Genre

Rating

Spoiler Level

An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 5

by Conspirator ::: 19.May.2004

The day dawned crisp and clear, perfect for an outdoor performance. Kenshin was thankful for that because he didn’t need any extra distractions, like rain or thunder, for his first time on stage. He was thankful as well that he had slept relatively soundly. He appeared to have had one of those rare nights free from the usual hellish nightmares. Maybe being an actor was a good antidote, he thought wryly.

As they had the night before, Kenshin and Baiko had split the night watch, with Kenshin taking the first shift and Baiko the second. The previous morning, when Kenshin had awakened, he had managed to slip away from the camp undetected to practice his kata; Baiko had found him later and watched. Now Kenshin saw no harm in letting Baiko know where he was going, and so after speaking briefly with him, he went off toward the stream to practice. It felt so good to go through the familiar forms in the brisk, early morning air. There was a time, during those dark years in Kyoto, when these kata had served only to remind him of assassinations and slaughter. But now he found that the joy his kata used to bring when he was a boy was starting to come back. When he finished his practice, he felt renewed and ready to face the challenges of the day.

The performance was scheduled for mid-morning so that the troupe could be on the road for Miyazaki right after lunch. Not only was Kenshin’s play on the ticket, he learned, but also the final scene from the drama Kanjincho. In this, he was told, Daisuke and Orinosuke would show off the finest dramatic acting in all of Japan; Ryosuke would be replacing Ennosuke in a minor role. So it was that the entire camp was bustling even at this early hour, and breakfast was a rushed affair. By seven-thirty, the men were already practicing their kabuki kata, and by nine o’clock the stage was ready to be set with props and furniture. As it took Kenshin considerably longer to get costumed and made up than the others, he was sent immediately to the wagon to begin the process with Ikuko.

It wasn’t more than ten minutes after Kenshin started the makeup process when Satoshi, the doctor, showed up. His excuse for arriving so early was to check on Ennosuke’s leg, but his real reason was his desire to talk to Kenshin again. The thought that the rurouni traveling with the kabuki troupe might be related to the little red-haired boy he saw all those years ago with the Kiheitai had piqued his curiosity. The only people he saw when he arrived, however, were Daisuke and his sons setting up the stage. Satoshi managed to contain his disappointment by watching the men start setting the stage with props and furniture. He found it so intriguing that when Ennosuke hobbled over to lead him to the family’s tent, he found it difficult to tear himself away. He returned fifteen minutes later to find everyone gone except Orinosuke, who was putting the final touches to the set. At the sight of Satoshi, Orinosuke jumped down from the stage to meet him.

"Sensei-san,"Orinosuke said, bowing in a rather curt, business-like way, "what’s the news on my brother? Father is dressing for the performance and asked me to get your report."

"He’s doing quite well, actually," Satoshi began. "The stitches I put in are holding nicely, there’s no bleeding, and he seems to have gotten the hang of those crutches pretty quickly. I’d say there should be no problem for him to travel as long as he’s not jostled too much over the next two or three days."

"That’s good news, indeed," Orinosuke said.

He immediately turned to get back to work, but Satoshi stopped him and said, "I have some medicine and instructions for your brother’s care. Perhaps I should give these to Himura-san?"

"Himura," Orinosuke growled. Just the name raised his hackles, but he quickly reined in his anger. In a calmer voice he said, "Himura-san is changing for the show also. He’s filling in for my brother. Perhaps you can leave everything with me."

Satoshi handed him several packets of salves and written instructions, then said, "You know, it’s so odd to meet a true Japanese with red hair, but he is actually the second one I’ve seen in my lifetime."

"The second?" Orinosuke repeated, suddenly very alert and interested.

"Aa," Satoshi went on, eager to tell someone—anyone—his story. "About eight years ago I joined the Kiheitai, over in Chousu—you know, the people’s army that got started right at the beginning of the Bakumatsu—and there was this little kid with a big sword and red hair. I had never seen red hair before, but they told me he was a true Japanese. Thirteen or fourteen, they say he was. Must’ve had some gaijin blood in him or something. I never actually met him—he was off to Kyoto pretty soon after I got that glimpse. So, your rurouni’s the second one I’ve seen. Maybe he’s a cousin of the one I saw. Wouldn’t that be coincidental!"

"I don’t believe in coincidences," Orinosuke said darkly. He turned to stare at the wagon, where Kenshin was having his makeup applied.

"Now that I think of it," Satoshi continued, "he’s really the third red-head I’ve heard of.

"Third?" Orinosuke asked absently, his eyes still glued to the wagon.

"Aa. You’ve of course heard of the Hitokiri Battousai, haven’t you?"

Orinosuke turned back to look at Satoshi, his eyes narrowed and glittering with suspicion. "We heard rumors of such a hitokiri when we lived in Kyoto, but we left for good after the Ikedaya massacre. What of it?"

"Well, they say he had red hair, too. Of course, I haven’t ever seen him, but they say he was seven feet tall, eyes of fire…."

"Was?"

"Well, from what I hear, he disappeared right after the Shogun abdicated. I’m guessing his luck ran out. But the stories they tell about him…!"

"Yes, thank you, sensei-san," Orinosuke cut him off. "I must get back to work. I will pass on your instructions to the rurouni." Then he strode away, leaving Satoshi in mid-word.

No, Orinosuke thought as he finished positioning props on the stage, there could be no coincidence here. The sensei said he saw a red-haired boy eight years ago and that the boy was thirteen or so? The rurouni said he was twenty-one, though he looked a good deal younger. Himura may have fooled the sensei, but it didn’t fool him. He would bet his last ryo that Himura and that boy were one and the same, and that meant this rurouni had been in the thick of things in Kyoto back during the Bakumatsu.

As for the Hitokiri Battousai having red hair? There had been rumors of a shadow assassin with that name when the family left Kyoto—an assassin whose very name filled hearts with terror—but when they left, no one had ever actually seen him. So, the terror of Kyoto had red hair as well…. Kagoshima being as far south in Japan as one could go without falling into the ocean, they had never gotten much news of what went on in Kyoto after the move, so he had never heard anything more about the assassin. Not for a moment did he believe anyone was seven feet tall, but in his line of business he knew all to well that all one had to do to achieve eyes of fire was to squint with a certain angry intensity….

"Hey, First Brother—stop staring off into space and get changed!" Ryosuke shouted from the tent at the back of the stage.

Orinosuke glared at him. He stuffed the packets from Satoshi into his sleeve pocket and walked back to his own tent to change. Best to put it all out of his mind right now, he thought. There would be plenty of time later, on the road to Miyazaki, to tease the truth out of the rurouni.

Ikuko was just putting the final touches to Kenshin’s makeup when Kenshin felt the surge of angry ki, which he quickly identified as Orinosuke’s. He cast his senses out to try to determine what had caused it, but he couldn’t tell. There was someone out there with him, but it wasn’t possible to determine who. A pang of anxiety shot through him at the thought that it might be Satoshi—no telling what the man might tell Orinosuke—but it could just as well have been one of the children or even one of the townspeople arriving early. Ikuko must have sensed his apprehension, for she said, "Getting nervous, Himura-san?"

Kenshin’s mind snapped back to the wagon. "What? Oh, no, just thinking," he stammered.

Ikuko laughed gently as she started wrapping the cloth around his hair. "You wouldn’t be the first to get the jitters before your first show, you know. You should have seen First Son before his debut as the priest in Narukami. One of the greatest roles in all of kabuki, and he was only twenty when he first performed it! Here he had been performing several of the great secondary roles—to much acclaim, I might add—but the way he was shaking and chewing his nails that night, you’d think he had never been on a stage before in his entire life!"

She now placed the wig on his head and started helping him into his kimono. As she started tying the obi, she said, "Now, Himura-san, there are a few things you need to know about performance days. First, no one must see you before you have been on stage, so you will go directly from here to the tent at the back of the stage. After the performance, however, some people might want to come back to pay you a compliment. If they do, you must remember to always act the part of a woman. Never break the illusion, even if some ignorant man tries to proposition you."

"Proposition me?" Kenshin choked out. That brought his mind even more quickly back to reality. "You mean, try to seduce me?!"

It took a valiant effort on Ikuko’s part to hold back her laughter at Kenshin’s panic. "It has happened on occasion," she said. "After all, even you didn’t know that men played the women’s parts, did you?"

"This one knows it now," he grumbled. Great. On top of having to act like a woman even outside the play, he was going to have to fend off lecherous townspeople.

"Oh, and one other thing," Ikuko said. "Husband has created a stage name for you—Shinosuke the First. You like it? He took the kanji from the last part of your name and made it into something that sounds like it belongs to our family."

A stage name? He hadn’t expected anything like this, and certainly not a name that made him sound like part of the family.

"This is more than sessha deserves," he said with genuine gratitude, and he bowed as deeply as he could without losing the wig. "Arigatou gozaimasu."

Baiko was waiting for him outside the wagon to help him down and walk him to the stage tent, and this time Kenshin didn’t refuse the help. As he walked, he saw the townspeople starting to arrive. The doctor, he noted, was already seated up front with his wife and young son. Satoshi kept looking around as if trying to find someone, and Kenshin had the funny feeling it was him. Baiko noticed the doctor as well and suddenly slapped himself on the head.

"I almost forgot!" he said apologetically as he drew the packets out of his sleeve. "Here, this is for you—it’s Ennosuke’s medicine and instructions from the sensei. He gave it to Orinosuke-san to give to you, and he passed it along to me. I figured I should put them in your travel bag for you."

So, Satoshi had talked to Orinosuke.

"Baiko," Kenshin said tensely, "did the sensei discuss anything else with Orinosuke?"

"I don’t know," Baiko answered. "I was putting up the flag poles at the time. All I saw was him handing these packets to Orinosuke-san. Why? You worried?"

Kenshin didn’t answer. A farmer and his family were passing by and were bowing to him in a most formal way. It took all his strength of mind to push his worry aside and to bow back in a manner befitting a well-off woman. The effort almost made him lose his balance on the high geta.

"Kuso," he muttered under his breath as he regained his footing.

"Tsk, tsk—not being very lady-like, are we?" Baiko teased at hearing the expletive.

"Baiko," Kenshin growled dangerously, "you’re pushing your luck."

"Listen, Himura," Baiko said, bringing Kenshin back to the subject at hand, "if old Sourpuss gives you a hard time, just give him your ditzy-widow routine. Might as well make use of what they’re teaching you, ne?"

"Just what do you mean?" Kenshin asked.

"Well, I should think that’s obvious," Baiko replied. "If Satoshi-sensei did tell his story to Orinosuke-san, you don’t want to tell him he’s right, do you? And you certainly can’t threaten him with your sword. But you could pretend you’re as clueless as that widow character you play, couldn’t you, and what could he say to that?"

"Hmm," was all Kenshin said in reply.

By this time, they had arrived at the tent. Baiko left him there, saying, "Don’t worry," but Kenshin was good and tense now. Ryosuke noticed it right away but attributed it to a case of stage fright. He was just putting the finishing touches to his makeup and now looked like a rather fearsome demon, so when he smiled at Kenshin, the effect was rather disconcerting.

"First-day jitters, Himura-san?" he asked amiably.

"Hmm? What?" Kenshin muttered. "Oh, no, Ryosuke-san, just thinking. Gomen…."

Daisuke shot a concerned glance at Ryosuke; Ryosuke nodded back imperceptibly.

"Himura-san, did I ever tell you about the first time Youngest Brother had his first speaking lines?" Ryosuke continued. "It’s not like he had never been on the stage before, but when it came time to say those lines, he froze—just froze! You know what Father did? Came up behind him and goosed him, right in the posterior! That got him going!"

Ryosuke roared with laughed at the memory while Daisuke mimed the action.

"Works every time, doesn’t it, Second Son?" Daisuke guffawed.

Kenshin looked from one to the other in horror, which made them laugh all the more. Kenshin decided he’d better find that sense of fun pretty quickly before something drastic happened, and he soon managed to smile along with his companions.

"That’s better, Himura-san," Daisuke said soothingly. "Nothing to be afraid of here—you’ll do just fine."

Suddenly, the hubbub of the audience outside came to a halt, and Kenshin could hear Ennosuke announce the play and the names of the players. It took him a moment to realize that the actor identified as Shinosuke the First was actually himself. Well, it was certainly a better name than the one had had been known by during the Bakumatsu, he thought ruefully. Daisuke and Ryosuke now became very quiet and closed their eyes as if meditating. Kenshin decided to follow suit, and he prayed to the gods that this trial he was about to endure would pass without incident.

Then the drum sounded, signaling the start of the play. Kenshin’s character was the first on stage, so down the long ramp he went to begin the scene. Everything went well for the first minute or so, but then he heard the laughs coming from the audience at his actions. He looked out and suddenly froze. After spending so much of his life hiding in the shadows trying not to be seen, he found it suddenly terrifying to find himself being stared at by hundreds of eyes. He started backing up, almost instinctively moving his hand to his hip for his absent sakabatou. The audience laughed even more, thinking it was all part of the play. Luckily, Daisuke was making his own entrance at that very moment. He, of course, understood immediately what was happening.

"A wandering exorcist am I," Daisuke intoned in his sing-song kabuki delivery, "and a widow in need meets my eye. Possessed by a goose of a demon, no doubt!"

Kenshin was not so frozen that he didn’t notice the unusual dialogue. Goose of a demon? That was not in the script! The fear of a pinch on his posterior was a great motivation, and he quickly snapped out of his paralysis. Now he turned his finely honed concentration skills solely on Daisuke and then on Ryosuke when he came out, and he soon ceased to notice the audience at all. Ryosuke, for his part, immediately started teasing Kenshin with improvisations as a way to keep him on track; it didn’t take long before Kenshin found himself teasing back, just as he had the day before during their rehearsal. At the climactic bean-throwing scene, when Ryosuke once again rolled some beans on the floor in an attempt to trip him, he even felt comfortable enough to recreate his pratfall of the previous day, complete with a return volley of beans that was faster than the eye could see. The audience loved it and responded with long and loud applause. As he took his bow with Daisuke and Ryosuke, he found himself somewhat astonished once again that so many people were watching, but now it was okay—no one had threatened him, no one had recognized him. He was still safe.

They all retired now to the tent at the back of the stage, where Orinosuke was waiting in full costume and make-up to help his father and brother make a quick change for the upcoming drama. Perhaps it was because of the rush, but much to Kenshin’s surprise, he found Orinosuke to be all business—there was none of the hostility or anger that had been so apparent earlier. Not wishing to press his luck, Kenshin quickly took his leave out the back to return to the wagon and change out of his own costume.

This time there was no one to help him walk back to the wagon, for Baiko was helping Bunjiro, Byako, and Saburo change the scenery and props and the women were playing a musical interlude. Even Ikuko was busy, taking care of the two youngest children. So, on his own, he slowly and carefully started making his way towards the wagon, carefully avoiding even the tiniest pebble lest he stumble.

He hadn’t walked more than ten steps when he saw a farmer hurrying towards him calling out, "Onna-san! Onna-san!" Kenshin kept right on walking, not realizing who the man was talking to until the farmer brazenly grabbed Kenshin’s elbow to stop him. Kenshin looked up in surprise to find the man performing a most elaborate bow.

"Onna-san, please, allow this poor farmer to address your eminent self!" the man said as he continued his nonstop bowing.

Kenshin was rather startled by the man’s actions, and not knowing what else to do, he returned the bows. Never break the illusion, Ikuko had ordered him, and so he put on what he thought would be the look of a startled woman.

"Onna-san, your plight has moved me greatly," the farmer continued.

What the hell?

"That a widow, with no husband to protect her, must defend herself against the most horrible of demons! Why, the injustice is too great!"

Oh, no, Kenshin realized, the guy thought the play was real! He bowed in what he hoped would be a conversation-ending manner and tried to walk off, but the farmer stopped him again.

"I am but a poor farmer and a widower myself," the man persisted. "I own merely three sections of land, planted in potatoes, soybeans, and an orchard, but it would be my honor to offer you all that I own as well as my humble protection if you were to marry me."

Now Kenshin’s eyes went wide, and he whipped out his fan to hide his face. Why, the man was proposing to him! He had been told to keep the illusion, but this was going too far! He started looking around in a panic for some way to get out of this situation short of speaking, which would give away his gender. As luck would have it, a savior arrived in the nick of time in the form of Baiko.

"Anata! Meeting an admirer from the audience?" Baiko called out heartily as he moved possessively to Kenshin’s side.

"Anata?" the man squeaked. "Is this woman your wife? I thought she was a widow!"

Kenshin slunk back a step and started fanning himself as his eyes darted back and forth between the two men. He had no idea what Baiko was up to, but he had the feeling it was going to be embarrassing.

"Ah, that she is," Baiko replied with a smile and a wink at Kenshin, "but we’re to be married in just a few days. A fine performer, ne?" He took Kenshin’s hand, patted it gently, and placed it on his arm in preparation for walking.

"Oh, ah, oh!" the man stammered. "Please, onna-san, I had no idea! Please forgive my forwardness! Oh dear, oh dear!" And he backed away in a flurry of bows and hurried off as fast as he could.

Kenshin slapped the fan shut and stared at Baiko. His hand had become as tight as a vice on Baiko’s arm, and Baiko yelped.

" ‘Anata?’ " Kenshin said in a low, dangerous voice. "’We’re to be married?’ Couldn’t you have thought of something else?"

Baiko pried Kenshin’s hand off his arm.

"Well, I had to think of something, didn’t I?" Baiko said with a smirk. "And it worked, didn’t it? You’d think a woman would be more grateful for being saved from a proposition like that!"

Kenshin growled and was about to whip out the fan in the Shinsengumi manner when Baiko said, "Come on, buck up! At least let me help you walk back to the wagon and keep any other love-struck fans away. I’m on my way there anyway to pick up a prop Daisuke-san forgot to put on the list."

Baiko placed Kenshin’s hand back on his arm and gave him a smug smile. If anyone had seen the two walking, all they would have noticed was a man leading a woman with an exceedingly grim expression on her face and a black cloud hovering over her well-coiffed head. Damn, Kenshin thought! He did appreciate the help walking back to the wagon, but this—this was just so humiliating!

After finally arriving back at the wagon, Kenshin waited impatiently while Baiko rooted around for the needed prop, then he quickly slipped out of his geta and hopped inside. He immediately removed the heavy wig and unbound his hair, shaking it out with great relief. Within minutes, the obi and kimono were gone as well and folded neatly on top of the costume box. Then it was on to removing the make-up. Only when he was done did he look in a mirror, and only then to make sure there were no traces of white left on his face. It was only the X-shaped scar on his cheek that seemed to hold remnants of the make-up, but even those few flakes disappeared once he gave the scar an extra scrubbing. Then he tied back his hair and, finally, picked up his sakabatou and put it through his belt. Now he felt complete—at last he was himself again! He hadn’t realized until that moment how stressful it had been to don the persona of a woman, and he knew he would be very glad when Ennosuke was well enough to take back this job.

Now that he was out of costume, however, his worry about running into the doctor reemerged. He very much wanted to watch Daisuke and his sons in the upcoming drama, but he was afraid that if he sat with the audience, Satoshi would see him say something again about his past. The roof of the wagon, however, looked like it might afford him a good view of the stage, and there was no way Satoshi would find him there. So, he jumped lightly to the top of the wagon and sat on the edge. The view was excellent.

The play, he had been told, was one of the stories dealing with the famous rivalry between two great warlords of the twelfth century, Minamoto Yoritomo and his younger brother Minamoto Yoshitune. In this story, Yoshitune must pass a roadblock set up by his brother to capture him. In order to prevent Yoshitune’s capture, the samurai Benkei disguises Yoshitune as a lowly porter and concocts an elaborate ruse to fool the barrier guard Togashi, even going so far as to nearly beat Yoshitune to death when Togashi comes close to suspecting the truth. When Togashi sees this, he is so filled with admiration for the depths of Benkei’s loyalty toYoshitune that he lets them pass, knowing that this act of disobedience to his own lord means he himself must commit seppuku.

Kenshin remembered this story from when he was a boy. Hiko had made it a practice to tell Kenshin the famous tales of bravery and honor, and this had been one of them. It had not been one of Kenshin’s favorites back then. He had fully admired Benkei for his courage and loyalty, but he could not say the same for Togashi, whom the story also made out to be a hero. If he had been Togashi, he used to think, he would never have let his personal admiration for Benkei interfere with his duty. That, to his boyish mind, would have been too shameful. Now that he was older, though, he saw things differently. Back during his days in Kyoto, there had been a few men he had admired greatly for their integrity and courage, even though they remained fiercely loyal to the shogun and the Bakufu. He had killed them, of course, as duty had required, but he remembered thinking even then that it was particularly wrong to have taken their lives….

His mind was snapped back to the present with the announcement of the play and its actors and the sound of the drum. He had never seen a kabuki drama before and so didn’t know what to expect, but from the first moments of the play, he found himself totally transported into the heart of the story. Orinosuke was positively riveting as the courageous samurai Benkei. As for Daisuke’s Togashi, Kenshin was astonished to see how much emotion could be conveyed by just the smallest of his facial expressions, lending great power to his performance as well. Kenshin may never have seen a kabuki production before, but he was sure he had just witnessed two of the greatest actors alive.

Now that the play was over, however, his fear of running into Satoshi surfaced again, so he quickly hopped back into the wagon and busied himself with readying the boxes for packing away the costumes and props. By the time he and Baiko had finished putting everything away, he knew Satoshi would be long gone, and he felt a huge surge of relief.

Just as with breakfast, lunch was a hurried affair, for they had only two days to get to Miyazaki, and the road would be mountainous for much of the way. Kenshin once again took up his position on the right side of the wagon, accompanied by Noriko and Nomi, but as the road became steeper and more rock-strewn, Noriko put Nomi up into the wagon and then joined her to keep her out of trouble. That was a relief to Kenshin, for he wanted no distractions this day from casting out his senses for danger. Satoshi had been most specific with his warning of yakuzas the day before, and Kenshin only wished that the rest of the women and children could have ridden in the wagon as well. Unfortunately, with only a single horse pulling the wagon uphill, that was impossible.

It didn’t take long for Orinosuke to notice that Kenshin was alone, and he now fell back to walk at Kenshin’s side. Kenshin acknowledged his presence with a nod but said nothing. There was something about Orinosuke’s ki right then that made him very uncomfortable, and the man’s frequent, piercing glances only heightened his tension. Finally, Orinosuke spoke.

"I had a fascinating chat earlier with that doctor, Satoshi-san," Orinosuke began, an ominous tone to his voice. "He had some very interesting tales to tell."

He looked pointedly at Kenshin, but Kenshin merely kept walking.

"Seems he was a member of the Kiheitai during the Bakumatsu," he continued. "You know about the Kiheitai, don’t you?"

Kenshin again said nothing.

"Seems that while he was there, there was this young boy—a little swordsman with red hair who went off to Kyoto with the Ishin Shishi."

"Why are you telling me this?" Kenshin finally said tersely.

"You’re that boy, aren’t you," Orinosuke growled. When Kenshin didn’t respond, he said menacingly, "Answer me!"

What was it that Baiko had told him to do if this happened? Act like that ditzy widow in the play? He put on as innocent a face as he could muster. Then he turned to Orinosuke and said, "Oro?"

"What the…?" Now Orinosuke was truly angry, and fire flashed from his eyes. "Don’t play the fool with me, boy! You’re that red-head, aren’t you!"

A large pile of rocks that had tumbled down the mountain lay straight ahead. The caravan had been winding its way around many such piles of rocks for miles, but just then Kenshin decided not to avoid this one. He threw himself headlong over the pile as if he had tripped. When he sat up, he was swirly-eyed and holding his head.

"Oro, oro, oro!" he exclaimed.

Orinosuke stopped short and looked down at him in disgust. "You’re pathetic," he spat out. Then he stalked off.

If Orinosuke had had eyes in back of his head, he would have seen a radically different Kenshin, for the swirly eyes were instantly replaced with the narrowed, all-seeing eyes of a hitokiri. Baiko hurried over to help him up.

"What the hell happened?" he asked quietly as he pulled Kenshin upright.

"He knows," Kenshin said.

"He knows what?" Baiko asked.

"Satoshi-sensei told him about the Kiheitai. He knows."

"But did he say anything about… you know, who you are?"

"No, but it’s only a matter of time."

"Well, that’s okay, then," Baiko said with relief. "You’ve at least thrown him off the scent for awhile."

"No," Kenshin said grimly, "it’s no good. It won’t take him long to put two and two together. Sessha should leave now, before it goes any farther."

"You’d have hell to pay from Daisuke-san and the others—you’ve promised to help them out," Baiko reminded him.

"And you think they'd still want me around if they found out?" Kenshin laughed bitterly. "No, Baiko, once anyone learns that this one was not just a hitokiri, but the Hitokiri Battousai, nothing else matters to them anymore. And in a way, maybe they're right to be afraid—not of me, but of those seeking revenge against me. This one knows from experience that revenge-seekers think nothing of killing an innocent if they think it brings them closer to me." He lowered his eyes and shook his head. "What was I thinking, accepting Daisuke-san's offer like this? It will always be this way."

Once again, Baiko’s ire arose at the injustice of it all. What kind of thanks was that for someone who had done so much to bring about the end of the old, oppressive rule? He sighed in frustration. But as he headed back to his post at the rear of the wagon, he said, "Himura, Matsuo was right—you’re a good man—but if you even so much as try to walk out on us, I’ll come after you myself! You got that?"

Kenshin gave a small smile. "Aa, Baiko-san, sessha’s got it."

The afternoon seemed to drag on as they slowly continued up the mountain road, so that when they finally reached the crest and saw an expansive, fertile valley stretching out below them, they all let out a cheer. It would have been nice to stop and take a good rest before starting the long, downhill journey, but it was already mid-afternoon, and they still had a long way to go. So on they trudged, happy at least that the road was now all downhill.

The climate on this side of the mountain, they found, was different, for the sky quickly seemed to fill with gray clouds that held the threat of rain in the not-too-distant future. The trees lining the road, however, were ablaze with brilliant autumn yellows and oranges, which more than made up for the bleakness of the sky. Indeed, they had been enjoying this part of the trip for well over an hour when Daisuke suddenly pulled the horse to a stop and stood on the wagon bench. There was something in the road—something big. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, though, because it was getting close to dusk and the light was fading. He was about to tell Orinosuke to check it out, but Orinosuke was already running ahead, sword drawn just in case.

It was a huge basket slung on a pole, the kind carried by two men. It had been sliced open, and there was blood smeared on the side of it. There was still evidence on the road of the basket’s contents—lettuce and daikon, from the looks of it.

"Quick!" Orinosuke called out. "Get the women and children into the wagon! Bandits have been here!"

Baiko bolted forward at that. As he passed Kenshin, he yelled, "Help them up—I’m going for a look!"

Ryosuke ran forward as well, followed by Daisuke, who had handed the reins over to Ennosuke. Kenshin, meanwhile, quickly helped Mayako, Mei, and their children into the wagon, then jumped lightly on top to get a view of the surrounding countryside. He had not sensed hostile ki in the area, but one could never be too sure. At the sound of his landing, however, one of the women cried out, "Help! We’re under attack!"

It was Mei, and she was in a panic. Kenshin quickly lay flat on the roof and hung his head down into the open back of the wagon.

"Mei-dono, calm down—it’s only the rurouni!" he said quickly.

"You can jump that high?" Bunjiro exclaimed as he joined Mei at the opening. "Wow! Can you teach me—aack!"

His mother had grabbed him by the gi and pulled him back in. "Don’t let your father hear you talking to that man!" Kenshin heard her whisper rather loudly.

He pulled himself back up to stand on the roof again and surveyed the countryside. There were no signs of bandits, but he did see something off to the left side of the road.

"Baiko, over there!" he called out. "Looks like a hat!"

Baiko ran over to look. It was, indeed, a hat, but there was also a ripped yukata and signs of blood. He ran back to the road and motioned for Kenshin to join him and the others.

"Looks like these basket-carriers were attacked, all right," Baiko said grimly, "but the blood looks pretty old, and I can’t find any tracks except where someone dragged the guy who was bleeding off to the side over there. What do you make of it, Himura?"

Kenshin was already heading for the opposite side of the road. He made his way into the underbrush, walking slowly in order to take in the position of every twig of every shrub and every indentation of the earth. Hiko had taught him the art of tracking so well that he could sometimes even track the thirteenth master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu himself, and that was no mean feat. Tracking careless men like these bandits was infinitely easier, although he knew that most men could not see what he could. Sure enough, broken twigs and indentations in the grass gave evidence of several men heading east. Remnants of some lettuce leaves confirmed his find.

"From the look of it," Kenshin said as he returned to the group, "the bandits seem to have headed east, so I’d say the victims headed north towards the town. It looks like there were several attackers—three or four at least."

"You sure the attackers headed east and not towards town?" Baiko asked. He was worriedly looking down the road.

"Aa," Kenshin answered. "They weren’t too careful crashing through the brush. It was pretty easy to find their tracks, and they go east for quite a distance. I’d say we’ll most likely be safe on this road until we reach town."

"And you would know this how?" Orinosuke asked sarcastically. "Perhaps these are friends of yours from your Kyoto days, and you’re in cahoots with them?"

Kenshin pointedly ignored the insult and instead turned to Daisuke, saying "It makes sense that the victims would not go in the same direction as their attackers, so if they headed for the village, then it’s a good bet their attackers didn’t. Anyway," he continued, turning to Baiko, "didn’t Satoshi-sensei say these yakuzas attacked some outlying farms but not the village itself?

"Aa," Baiko answered. "What of it?"

"Then, most likely they’re only looking for easy targets—farmers going to market, isolated houses—people and places that can’t defend themselves. And since they left evidence of their attack right here on the road, they’d know that anyone else traveling past would be on alert for an attack. To this one, it looks like it’s been at least a day or a day-and-a-half since they struck. They’re long gone from here."

"That makes sense to me," Baiko said. Then, turning to Daisuke and his sons, he added, "What about you?"

Daisuke and Ryosuke were nodding in agreement when suddenly Orinosuke, who had been holding his sword loosely at his side the whole time, brought the sword up to Kenshin’s neck.

"You’d better be right about this," Orinosuke growled out menacingly, "because if you’re leading us into a trap…," and he pushed the blade of the sword even further against Kenshin’s skin.

Baiko gasped and held his breath. He had seen Kenshin practice, had seen the speed of Kenshin’s sword and knew what he was capable of, and a momentary panic set in. But Kenshin, to his relief, stood stock-still, not moving a muscle. He merely returned Orinosuke’s stare with a cold stare of his own.

Suddenly Ryosuke leaped in between his brother and Kenshin.

"That’s it! I’ve had it with you!" Ryosuke yelled as he roughly pushed Orinosuke’s sword away. "This entire journey your bitterness has gotten worse and worse until it’s totally taken over your senses, and now you’re taking it out on strangers? Why don’t you just move back to Kyoto and leave us alone!"

"How dare you!" Orinosuke snarled. He dropped his sword and lunged for his brother, his fists upraised. Daisuke grabbed him and held him back; Baiko did likewise with Ryosuke.

"You know what I think?" Ryosuke yelled as he struggled against Baiko’s grip. "I think you’re jealous of the rurouni! Someone with no ties to anyone, can come and go as he pleases—aa, you’re jealous of him! Why don’t you just get up the courage and leave!"

Orinosuke’s face was now contorted with rage. "As if you don’t have an offer just like it from your wife’s family in Tokyo!" Orinosuke snarled back. At Ryosuke’s look of surprise, he added, "Oh yes, you think I don’t know about that? You’re a hypocrite!"

Ryosuke’s eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother. He shook an arm out of Baiko’s grip and pointed his finger accusingly at Orinosuke.

"You listen to me, Brother," Ryosuke spat out. "I’m not like you and never will be. You think you’re too good for any place but Kyoto, but I’m not like that. Give me a stage and an audience, and I don’t care where I am—I’ll give them the best damned performance I can possibly give. I don’t care if it’s in Kagoshima, Kyoto, or that god-forsaken little hamlet we just played this morning! What makes you think those people deserved anything less from me than what I’d do for Shimazu-sama himself? You’re a fool, Brother! Just cut your ties and leave. But if you can’t, then deal with that bitterness of yours right now, because we’ve had it! And just so you know—I turned that offer down before we left Kagoshima."

Ryosuke turned away abruptly and stormed back to the wagon, leaving a fuming Orinosuke and a shaken Daisuke in his wake. Daisuke let go of Orinosuke now and stared hard into his eyes. He was stunned at the level of anger he saw there. Clearly Orinosuke had been nursing a deep resentment of what he viewed as a seven-year exile from Kyoto. Now that resentment was threatening to tear apart the entire family.

"Go back and take up your position," Daisuke ordered Orinosuke in a grim voice. "We’ll discuss this later. Baiko, keep the women and children in the wagon, then let’s get moving. We’ve got to make it to the next town before nightfall. I don’t want to be caught out here after dark, just in case Himura-san’s wrong. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"What?!"

Baiko had been so absorbed in the fight between the two brothers that he hadn’t noticed Kenshin discreetly backing off and walking away. Once again he panicked, knowing that not too long ago Kenshin had expressed his intention to leave. He started sprinting back towards the wagon; he slowed only when he saw that Kenshin was already there, talking to Ennosuke.

Ennosuke, for his part, had been chafing at the bit to find out what was going on, since his broken leg had prevented him from leaving the wagon. So, when he saw Kenshin coming, he called out anxiously, "What happened down there?"

"Some farmers were attacked by bandits," Kenshin answered. When Ikuko’s head shot out of the wagon at the word ‘bandit,’ he added quickly, "It wasn’t today—it’s been at least a day or more since the attack. It’s likely that they are long gone from this area by now."

Ikuko gave a sigh of relief and went back inside, but Ennosuke was not satisfied yet. "If that’s the case, then what was all the yelling about?" he pressed.

Kenshin hid his eyes with his bangs, afraid he would give away the anger he was trying hard to control. "That," he said, "appears to be a family matter."

"A family matter? What are you talking about?" Ennosuke started to say, but then he saw his brothers and father approaching. From the anger on his brothers’ faces and the grimness on his father’s, he could guess what happened. "Orinosuke and Kyoto, right?"

Kenshin nodded but said nothing else. Instead, he returned to his position on the right side of the wagon to wait for the caravan to move on again.

Daisuke now swung up onto the wagon bench, but before Ennosuke could even get a word out, Daisuke cut him off.

"I don’t want to talk about it," Daisuke told him curtly. "Just know that your brothers had words about Kyoto. We will discuss it tonight. It’s time we resolved this problem once and for all." Then, with a shake of the reins and a cluck to the horse, the wagon was on its way again.