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An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 8

by Conspirator ::: 04.Aug.2004

Miyazaki.

Never before had a group of travelers been so happy to see a sign bearing that name! After the cheerlessness of the first part of the morning and the terrifying encounter with bandits before lunch, Daisuke and his family were more than ready to reach this city.

Not that the rest of the trip had been difficult—far from it. About twenty minutes after they had resumed their trek after lunch, Noriko had started singing a silly little children's song to entertain Nomi, and soon everyone, including Baiko, was singing along. Kenshin, at first, just listened, for the song was bringing back the strangest memory. In his mind's eye, he could see himself helping his mother in a field, and she was singing this very song to him while they pulled radishes together. He vaguely remembered that she was wearing a light brown kimono with a pretty green obi, though he couldn't quite remember her face…. Now he started singing along, too, a strange ache arising deep within him that he couldn't quite name. Then the song was over and Mei chimed in with another one, as did Mayako and Ikuko, and before they knew it, they reached a crossroad teeming with travelers. Kenshin forcibly pushed his memories out of his mind as he scanned the crowds. If there were this many people traveling, he decided, the bandits must not have gotten this far north.

With so many people on the road now, the smaller children were put up onto rear of the wagon so they wouldn't get lost in the crowd, and they sat there swinging their legs and waving to passersby. Vendors became more numerous as they got closer to the city, and the journey now almost seemed like one giant social gathering. Everyone seemed to love it—except Kenshin. As travelers passed by his side of the wagon, he could feel their eyes glancing surreptitiously at him—it was the red hair, he knew. He was just thankful that his left cheek—his scarred cheek—was facing inward toward the wagon, not outward toward the road. There was a reason he tried to stick to back roads, after all.

Finally, they had come to that sign welcoming them to Miyazaki, and Daisuke motioned for the small caravan to stop outside the shop of a prosperous-looking book seller. He walked back to Baiko, handed him a scroll, and sent him in. Kenshin watched as the shopkeeper started pointing this way and that, apparently giving directions, and then as Baiko handed the man the scroll. As the shopkeeper unrolled it and read it, his eyes grew wide, and he began a flurry of bows towards the wagon, which Daisuke returned with a carefully rehearsed patrician aloofness. The shop's customers now gathered around the shopkeeper as he pasted the poster onto his doorway, and a collective "Oooh!" went up. Some of them immediately started moving towards the wagon, and Kenshin instictively found his hand hovering over the hilt of his sakabatou as they did, but Daisuke pushed his hand away, saying, "Not to worry, Himura-san—they're just our fans."

Fans? Kenshin looked over at the poster to see what it said:

"Kabuki Performance!
The Famous Daisuke Family of Kagoshima.
Tomorrow, Miyazaki Grand Jingu Shrine.
Thursday and Friday, Soudai Theater."

Below were illustrations of Daisuke, Orinosuke, Ryosuke, and Ennosuke.

Daisuke now handed a stack of illustrated cards to Bunjiro and Byako and sent the boys off to hand them out to the crowd. The women, in particular, seemed to treat the cards as if they were almost holy relics. Curious, Kenshin tapped Byako on the shoulder as he passed by and asked almost shyly, "May sessha have one, too?"

Byako chuckled, fanned through his stack, and pulled one out. It was a portrait of Orinosuke. "That's my dad," he said proudly.

Baiko came back to stand with Kenshin while the boys did their job and said, "Didn't know they were this famous."

The two watched in amazement as the crowd literally grabbed for the cards. Then Kenshin said, "Did you happen to read that poster?"

"No. Why?"

"It's not just tomorrow they're performing—it's the two days after that as well," Kenshin replied in a worried voice.

Baiko turned to read the poster now. "Hmpf," he muttered, "they never said anything about that to me, but what do I know? I'm just the hired help."

"You don't understand," Kenshin said in an urgent voice. "Sessha needs to leave tomorrow—this one can't risk staying any longer than that!" He glanced around at the crowds again and added, "Sessha's not even sure he can risk staying here tonight!"

Baiko put his arm around Kenshin's shoulder and pushed him to the rear of the wagon. "Himura, you gave your solemn word you'd help them out for this command performance, or whatever they call it, tomorrow. You have to do it, and that's that, but after that I'd say all bets are off." He patted Kenshin on the back reassuringly. "You'll be fine, you'll see." Then he pushed Kenshin back towards his own post.

As it turned out, their inn was on the far northeast side of the city, not far from the shrine, which meant the caravan had to travel through the city from one end to the other. Daisuke had the wagon stop every few blocks so that Baiko could hand out posters at various shops along the way, and every time they stopped, Kenshin became more and more uncomfortable. It wasn't just the stares—that was bad enough—but the fact that there seemed to be more than several soldiers wandering around the streets wearing the crest of the Satsuma army. The youngest ones he wasn't worried about, for most likely they had fought only in the recent Boshin War. The older ones, however, in all likelihood had fought in the Bakumatsu itself, and if they had fought in the final battles, especially at Toba Fushimi…..

He stopped himself. There had been thousands and thousands of Satsuma and Chousu soldiers on the battlefield that day, but only a relative handful had actually fought with him, and those were mostly Chousu men. The chances were slim, he told himself, that any of these soldiers had actually seen him.

Still, he felt a great sense of relief when they finally reached their destination, an imposing-looking inn near the northeast edge of town. He watched as the innkeeper came out and paid grand obeisances to Daisuke, who responded with all the aloofness of a grand aristocrat. There was no question that Daisuke had a commanding presence, but Kenshin had always found him to be a friendly man who didn't seem to care much for grand formalities. Since arriving in Miyazaki, however, Daisuke had suddenly taken on the persona of a rather intimidating lord. Curious about the change, Kenshin cast out his senses to see if there was a corresponding difference in Daisuke's ki. Strangely, he got the sense that it was all a ruse and that Daisuke was enjoying himself immensely. Sure enough, when the innkeeper started backing up and bowing in order to reenter the inn, Kenshin caught just a hint of a twinkle in Daisuke's eye. Well, the man was a consummate actor, after all. Should he have been surprised that this was all an act?

"Baiko-san, Himura-san," Daisuke called out now. The two came forward, and Daisuke clapped his hands on their shoulders. "I've got some bad news. You'll be staying at this inn with us, so you won't have to sleep in a warehouse like you did last night, but the innkeeper insists that all he has available for you is a small servant's room. Frankly, I think he's lying. Then he said because you'll be in a servant's room, you can only use the guest bathhouse after everyone else has finished, and you'll have to take your meals with the servants. The nerve, considering what I'm paying him for our own rooms! After what you two did earlier today fighting those bandits, you certainly deserve better than this, but there's nothing I could do to change his mind. I'm very sorry…."

Baiko let out a huge sigh of relief. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to say we'd have to dress up for dinner or something! This place is way too grand for me—servants' quarters would suit me just fine. How 'bout you, Himura?"

"What?" Kenshin had been focusing on the mix of strong ki's that seemed to be coming and going from this inn. "Oh, yes—that's fine," he stammered. He quickly put on the vacant smile he had been using all afternoon. "Sessha is only a rurouni, after all."

"Good, then that's settled," Daisuke said with relief. "So let's get the costume trunk and our personal luggage off the wagon, then you take the wagon and horse around to the stable. After that, you're free until tomorrow morning." Then, turning to Kenshin, he added, "Are you all recovered from your wound now?"

"Aa," Kenshin replied, "just a bit tired still, but that'll be gone by morning."

"Thank goodness," he replied. "You know, I'm convinced it was karma that brought you to us back on that mountain. For you to show up just when we needed you, to have you save my son's life that day, then to have the aid of your sword during our terrible encounter today—yes, it was karma, for sure. We are forever in your debt, Himura-san."

Daisuke now bowed deeply to Kenshin before walking into the inn. Kenshin bowed back, speechless. Once again, this family had confounded his expectations. He stood and stared as Daisuke followed his family into the inn until finally Baiko said, "Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to help me unload this stuff?"

Now Kenshin gave a genuine smile, and the two quickly got to work. Within half an hour, they had unloaded everything and brought the boxes to the appropriate rooms as well as parked the wagon in the stable and unhitched the horse. Then they found their room and sank to the floor for a well-deserved rest.

It was well after dark when a servant came to call them for dinner. Baiko was hungry, and he hopped up quickly and started for the door. Kenshin, however, didn't budge.

"Hey, aren't you hungry?" Baiko asked.

Kenshin shook his head.

"But you gotta eat," Baiko protested.

Kenshin looked to make sure the servant was nowhere in sight, then said softly, "Baiko, it's not a good idea for this one to eat with so many people around."

"What are you talking about? A servant isn't going to know who you are!"

Kenshin sighed. "Already as we were walking through town, people were staring at me. It's the red hair, you know, but at least they couldn't see the scar." His hand moved unconsciously to touch the "X" on his cheek. "Once they see the scar, though…."

Baiko was already halfway through the door, but now he turned back in and grabbed Kenshin's bag. "You mean to tell me that in this bag of yours, you don't have some kind of bandage or something you can put over that scar?"

"Well, actually… yes, sessha supposes there is something this one could use," he answered slowly, "but wouldn't that raise some suspicions with Daisuke-san's family?"

"Are they eating with the servants?" Baiko asked. "Of course not! So how would they know!"

A small smile crept over Kenshin's face. "Maybe you're right," he said.

He dug into his bag and came up with a small bandage, which he carefully affixed it to his scarred cheek.

"You think this will do?" Kenshin asked.

Baiko laughed. "Hell, yes! Come on, let's go eat!"

The two of them headed down to the kitchen to find it crowded with not only the inn's own eight servants, but ten servants of guests as well. They were lucky to find a place to squeeze in at the far end of the long table. As Kenshin expected, there were stares but once the novelty wore off, no one bothered them, and the meal proceeded without incident. As some of the others finished, though, one of them said, "Anyone up for a little dice and gambling tonight?"

That brought the group to life, and Baiko was no exception. He turned to Kenshin and said, "Hey, what about it? You play dice?"

Kenshin chuckled. "Aa, sessha has played dice, but it's been a long time. Anyway, this one is rather tired."

"Oh, come on—let's have some fun," Baiko goaded him. "You can use the money, can't you? Or are you the kind who couldn't win even if the dice were loaded?"

That did it. Kenshin's smile grew larger. "Sessha could use some money for a warm haori, that he could. Aa, sessha will join you, but this one will not play against you—only against the others. Agreed?"

Baiko looked at him quizzically but said, "Agreed."

So, the two followed the others to the large shared servants' quarters, where the other men were already clearing a space for the game. They looked at the newcomers and chuckled.

"Hey, soldier!" one of them said to Baiko. "Who's the kid? His mommy know he's out gambling?"

The other men laughed as Baiko looked around.

"What kid?" he asked confusedly. Then he looked at Kenshin. Kenshin had put on his vacant smile, and with the bandage on his cheek, Baiko realized he looked not a day over sixteen. "Oh, him! Yeah, well, he's got more experience than you think." He leaned over and whispered in Kenshin's ear, "You do know how to gamble, right?"

Kenshin just smiled.

The game started, with the dice going around the circle of men. They were sure they would make a killing, what with an apparently clueless kid as part of the crowd. At first Kenshin just watched, confirming their hunch, but after several rounds, he finally pulled a coin from his small purse. He took the dice, rolled, called out his bet, and won. Luck of the novice, the men thought. Then Kenshin rolled the dice again; again he won. A third, fourth, and fifth time the he rolled the dice, winning every time. He was beginning to amass a good-sized pile of coins now, and the other men were beginning to get upset.

"Hey, Himura, what's going on?" Baiko whispered as he felt the atmosphere chill in the room. "You got those dice rigged or something?"

Kenshin put on as innocent a look as he could and said aloud, "It's just luck, that it is," and he handed the dice over to Baiko.

Now Baiko tried his hand. No luck. On the next roll, Kenshin leaned over and whispered, "Six and two." Baiko quickly yelled out, "Six and two," and won. On Baiko's next turn, Kenshin again whispered in his ear, and again Baiko won. The other men were now starting to grumble audibly.

"Baiko," Kenshin whispered, a smile still plastered on his face, "this one thinks it's time we left—before there's a fight."

He calmly started to drop his winnings into his purse. Baiko looked around at the stormy faces of their companions and decided to do likewise.

"Well, gents, it's been a pleasure," Baiko said. Then he and Kenshin quickly got up to leave.

"Yeah? And don't come back!" one of the men yelled after them.

When they got back to their room, Baiko said, "Himura, how the hell did you do that?"

"Do what?" Kenshin asked innocently.

"You know what I mean—call every roll of the dice right every time. I've never seen anything like it!"

"Ah," Kenshin laughed, "just a little something my shishou taught me. It has to do with watching the trajectory and spin of the dice…." He stopped, remembering how he had once tried to teach a friend to read the movement of the dice, without much success. "It takes a long time to learn. Just be glad sessha promised not to play against you!"

He stashed his winnings in his travel bag. Then he motioned towards the bathhouse, which was just steps from their room. "You think we can use it now?" he asked. He hadn't had a proper bath in he didn't know how long, and the thought of soaking in a warm tub, instead of a cold stream, seemed like an almost unbelievable luxury.

Baiko looked out the window and said, "Hey, after the day we've had, we deserve it."

Within minutes, the two were washed and settling into the warm tub, with Kenshin carefully keeping his wounded shoulder above the water. He closed his eyes as he sat there, and soon all the tension and worries of the day seemed to melt away. He was so relaxed, in fact, that he almost found himself dozing off. He caught himself just in time, though, and reluctantly pulled himself out of the tub to towel off. Baiko followed suit. Then they headed back to their room for a good night's sleep.

Kenshin awoke with the sun as usual. It gave him a bit of a start at first when he looked around and found himself in an inn, but then he remembered—he was in Miyazaki, not Kyoto, and the man snoring away at the other end of the room was Baiko, not another Ishin Shishi. He sat up slowly and stretched, his breath hitching slightly as he felt a small stab of pain from his shoulder, but all in all, he was relieved to find there were no other ill effects from the previous day's battle. He looked out the window—it looked like it would be a glorious day, and he was glad to find that Miyazaki was considerably warmer than the mountains they had just traveled through. He proceeded to get washed and dressed, then sat and stared out the window while Baiko awoke and did the same.

He had always had a fascination with people-watching. Growing up in the mountains with hermit like Hiko, he had had little opportunity to interact with others, so when he first moved to Kyoto, just watching the throngs of city dwellers passing by seemed like the greatest entertainment to him. Of course, as he became more and more consumed by his job as a hitokiri, people-watching took on a more sinister quality, but still he never quite lost his fascination with it. Were the women going shopping or were they going to meet a lover? Were the children happy or did their parents beat them? Were the men just going to work or were they… no, he would not go down that path today.

The window of their little room in the servants' quarters looked out on the bathhouse and well, and so as he looked out, he could see the kitchen servants starting their daily chores. Then some of the guests' servants started appearing, eyes bleary from just awakening. He chuckled quietly as he heard them grumble about having to bring in buckets of water for their masters. That wasn't such a bad job, he thought, when you considered the alternatives. Then a familiar form appeared—a regal-looking white-haired man. It was Daisuke, and he was headed for the bathhouse. The sun was just up above the horizon now—quite early for Daisuke to be up and about. He nudged Baiko and pointed.

"Hmpf," Baiko muttered blearily. "Unusual." He shrugged, then proceeded to shave.

Soon a knock came and the announcement that breakfast for the servants was being served. Kenshin hesitated only a second before deciding to place that bandage back on his cheek. Baiko was right—the Daisuke family would never know, and he'd feel less conspicuous with it on. And so the two made their way to the kitchen to join the other servants for breakfast.This time as they walked in, they were not ignored.

"It's the kid what took all my money," one of the servants muttered to his companion grumpily when he saw Kenshin.

"Yeah, and that other guy's in cahoots with him," said another. Then, to Baiko and Kenshin, he said, "And you're not welcome in our quarters anymore!"

Kenshin stifled a laugh and gave as clueless a look as he could muster. "Oro?" he said innocently. The servants just stared, not sure whether to laugh or groan.

Baiko grabbed his elbow and steered him to a table. "You're getting pretty good with that act," he whispered, "but if you don't watch it, you'll have an open rebellion in here. You won a hell of a lot of money from them, you know."

Kenshin patted his bulging purse, which he had tucked into his sleeve for safekeeping. "Sessha knows, sessha knows," he said with satisfaction.

The meal was simple—just a fish soup made with leftovers and fruit—but filling enough. They were just finishing when there was a knock at the kitchen doorway. It was Bunjiro. Kenshin panicked as he remembered the bandage on his cheek, and as Baiko got up to meet him, Kenshin quickly turned his head so Bunjiro wouldn't see it.

"Baiko-san," Bunjiro said, somewhat embarrassed by the bold stares coming from the servants, "Grandfather wants you and Kenshin-san to bring the wagon around as soon as you've finished breakfast. Then he's got some other things for you to do."

"Sure thing," Baiko responded. He turned to go back to the table, but Bunjiro pulled on his sleeve.

"Baiko-san," he said worriedly, "you don't think we're in trouble with Shimazu-sama, do you? I mean, we were supposed to be here by yesterday to set up and everything. I asked Father, but he just got angry with me, and I'm afraid to ask Grandfather…."

Baiko tousled Bunjiro's hair. "Nah, you won't be in any trouble. Once they hear about your uncle breaking his leg and our run-in with the bandits, they'll understand. Don't you worry."

"Thanks," Bunjiro said, and he ran off down the hall. Kenshin gave an inward sigh of relief—he was sure his bandage had gone unnoticed.

"Hey," one of the servants said as Baiko sat back down, "that's one of the actor's brats, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so?" Baiko said warily.

"You work for them?" the servant asked.

"What of it?" he answered.

"Well, we live in Kagoshima, and my master and his wife go to that family's kabuki theater all the time!" the servant said enthusiastically. "When they saw those very actors right here—right at this very inn!—well, the mistress just couldn't stop talking about it! Especially about that onnagata of theirs—what's his name? Enno-something?"

"Ennosuke-san?" Baiko said. "Yeah, he's the onnagata, but he's got a broken leg, so Himura here's gonna…."

Suddenly, Baiko found his mostly empty bowl of soup in his lap. He leaped to his feet in surprise.

"Hey! What the…!"

Kenshin looked as astonished as everyone else at what happened, but he was not astonished that no one had seen his hand whip out at godlike speed to knock the bowl over. The servants started laughing as Baiko looked down at the embarrassing wet spot that now graced the front of his hakama. He started cursing under his breath. Then, hauling Kenshin up by his arm, he said, "Come on, Himura, let's get out of here. We've got work to do!"

He stormed off down the hall to their room and fished out another hakama, still muttering imprecations as he did so.

"Sessha hated to do it," Kenshin said through his laughter. "Gomen nasai."

Baiko turned around as the import of what Kenshin said slowly sank in.

"You?" Baiko asked incredulously. "You did this?!" He looked ready to kill.

Kenshin swallowed his laughter. "It's like you said when sessha first agreed to fill in for Ennosuke-san—no one would recognize me dressed up like a woman—but they might if you tell them this one is the onnagata. Spilling your soup was the only way sessha could think of to stop you from giving away the secret. Can you forgive me? This one will even wash your hakama for you to make up for it."

Baiko angrily threw his dirty hakama across the room and pulled on his clean one.

"You know what your problem is, Himura? You're paranoid! That's what it is—you're paranoid! You think everyone in the world is out to get you. Well, maybe they're not, and maybe you didn't have to dump that soup in my lap!"

Kenshin's face went rigid, and his eyes became unreadable.

"Of course," Kenshin said in a suddenly flat monotone. "You're right. Sessha should not have done that—it was inexcusable. But there is something this one did not tell you yesterday—one of the bandits recognized me. Sessha thought perhaps my description hadn't made it this far south, but it has. You understand now why sessha must leave as soon as possible."

The anger drained from Baiko's face at Kenshin's words.

"Himura," he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I was just angry about having to change. And it was pretty funny, I have to admit…."

He saw the corner of Kenshin's mouth turn up slightly.

"And it did get those bloodsuckers in there to forget how we cleaned them out last night…."

Now the other side of Kenshin's mouth turned up.

"Come on," Baiko said as he pushed Kenshin towards the door. "The horse and wagon await us—not to mention your swooning public."

Kenshin would have said something to that, but he was just relieved that Baiko had forgiven him. He quickly peeled the bandage off his cheek and threw it aside, then hurried out the door with his friend.

Within twenty minutes, they had the wagon pulled up in front of the inn. Daisuke was waiting for them, dressed in his finest kimono and holding a stack of posters in his hand.

"Ah, good—nice and early!" he said as Baiko and Kenshin jumped down from the wagon bench. He handed the posters to Baiko. "Here. You and Himura-san, take these and put them up around town, but save a stack to give to the Soudai Theater. We're a day late in getting them up, so you'd better get moving right away. And Himura-san, we need you back by mid-morning for a quick rehearsal. We'll be at the old Noh theater on the shrine grounds. You'll find the directions with the posters."

Walking through town to put up posters? This was about the last thing Kenshin wanted to do right now. It was one thing to go out in public in stage makeup and a woman's costume, totally another to walk through a fairly large city crawling with soldiers who might recognize him. Not only that, he had already taken off the bandage covering his X scar, and he had no others with him—they were all in his travel bag. He had to find some way to get out of this!

"Sessha needs to check Ennosuke-san's leg," he said quickly. "Perhaps Baiko-san should go on without me. Everything this one needs is back in our room…."

"No need to worry about that," Daisuke broke in. "The innkeeper's already arranged for a local doctor to come by and look at him—should be here any minute, as a matter of fact. No, you just go on with Baiko-san. It'll get done twice as fast with the two of you. Well, off you go!"

He stood and watched as Kenshin and Baiko set off, then turned and climbed into a waiting palanquin. He was off to the governor's mansion to pick a dozen men from the governor's ceremonial guard to use as extras in the afternoon's play.

As soon as the inn was out of sight, Kenshin stopped. "Baiko, sessha must go back. There is too great a chance that sessha will be recognized."

Baiko stood and looked him over. True, Kenshin said one of the bandits had recognized him yesterday, but did that mean that someone in Miyazaki would recognize him, too? He couldn't decide whether to be concerned or not, but Kenshin clearly was. "You're really worried, aren't you."

"Aa," Kenshin said, nodding his head. "Sessha has tried to avoid cities, and when that wasn't possible, at least to wear a bandage on my cheek, but sessha took the bandage off before we went for the wagon."

"Well, we can't go back now," Baiko said. "It'd look too suspicioius." He looked around. It was still early in the morning, and the streets were still fairly empty. "Listen, people are still eating breakfast—it'll be awhile before the streets get really crowded. Maybe we're both worrying for nothing. If we hurry, we'll be done and out of here before the crowds hit."

Kenshin wasn't convinced, but he had no choice. They started walking, and as they did, he found himself going on high alert, senses stretched out in every direction to detect hostile ki. He insisted on walking on the inner side of the walkways, between the buildings and Baiko, so that he would be less conspicuous to passersby on the street. It almost felt as if he were back in Kyoto during the Bakumatsu. Even Baiko noticed the difference, for when he happened to look sideways at his companion, he saw not the calm eyes and countenance of the rurouni, but the narrowed eyes and intense concentration of a warrior—of the Hitokiri Battousai, he realized with a shudder.

At every inn and market square they passed, they stopped to post a flyer. Or at least Baiko posted the flyers; Kenshin seemed to melt unnoticed into doorways or alleys. In fact, Kenshin managed to be so inconspicuous that the first time he did so, Baiko thought he had disappeared completely. And so an hour passed without incident. They finally reached the Soudai Theater shortly before mid-morning and turned over the rest of the flyers.

They were just turning the corner to go back towards the shrine when a group of three soldiers passed by them. The soldiers were talking and laughing, not paying much attention to people on the street, but a glimpse of red made one of them stop and turn. What he saw was not just a red-haired man, but a red-haired man with an X-shaped scar on his cheek. He stopped and pulled his comrades to a stop as well. Kenshin felt the surge of ki and quickly faded into the nearest doorway, leaving Baiko standing alone on the sidewalk.

"Did you see that?" the soldier said. He turned back towards where he had seen the red hair, but now he saw nothing except a very perplexed-looking swordsman with dark hair.

"What," the second soldier asked. "I don't see anything."

"Red hair," the first soldier said slowly, as if not quite believing it himself. "I could've sworn I saw red hair—and an X-shaped scar! I'm sure of it…."

"You got a hangover or something?" the third soldier said. "Or maybe you had too good a time with your girl last night!" He laughed boisterously.

"Hey—I'm serious! I really saw it!" the first soldier retorted. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say it was the Hitokiri Battousai, but…."

While the three soldiers were conversing, Kenshin had quietly managed to jump up onto the roof. He could hear every word, and now his blood ran cold.

"Hitokiri Battousai? You've got to be kidding," said the third soldier. "He disappeared years ago!"

"No! I heard he's been roaming the countryside, sent by the gods to slaughter the wicked," said the first soldier in an almost conspiratorial whisper. They had started walking again, but the soldier turned once more to look back. Still only that befuddled swordsman standing and looking around as if he had lost his pet dog. But that befuddled swordsman, too, had heard every word, and he was kicking himself for not letting Kenshin stay behind at the inn.

"Well," said the second soldier, "if the Hitokiri Battousai really is here, then we'd better tell Ozawa-san. His brother was killed by the Hitokiri Battousai, you know. It was at the beginning of the Bakumatsu, when those idiots from Chousu tried to kidnap the emperor. His brother was a guard at the Imperial Palace that night, and they say it was the Battousai who killed him. Ozawa-san's sworn vengeance against him ever since."

"Well, I'll be damned," said the first soldier as the group finally moved out of earshot.

Baiko had been looking for Kenshin without success ever since he faded from view, so once the soldiers were out of sight, he called out softly, "Himura? Where are you?"

"Up here," came the answer.

Baiko looked up to find Kenshin lying flat on the roof. He glanced around and saw no ladder or any other means of reaching the roof. He was mystified.

"How the hell did you get up there?" he asked. "And how did you do it without me seeing you do it?"

"Never mind that," Kenshin answered. "Sessha needs to get back before anyone else sees me. Let me follow you to the shrine from the rooftops. Just don't look up—pretend as if nothing unusual is going on."

Baiko shivered. It suddenly dawned on him just how Kenshin had come by this ability to seemingly appear and disappear without anyone noticing. The Hitokiri Battousai was legendary for his ability to move like a shadow, and Baiko was getting to witness it first-hand. Now he knew what it felt like to be followed—to be hunted—by a shadow on the rooftops, and it made his knees feel like jelly. He quickly reminded himself that it was a sakabatou Kenshin was carrying, not a katana, and thus fortified, he started off in the direction of the Miyazaki Jingu Shrine.

It only took a half-hour to get there, but it felt like the longest half-hour of Baiko's life. It wasn't that he felt he was in danger, it was just knowing that every step he took, every move he made was being watched by the eyes of a hitokiri. Well, a former hitokiri, but still! It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The shrine turned out to be set deep in the woods at the very northern end of town. He started down the path, wondering whether he should stop and wait for Kenshin to catch up.

"Sessha is right here," Kenshin said softly from behind, as if anticipating Baiko's question. Baiko jumped.

"Kami-sama!" Baiko blurted out, his heart pounding a mile a minute. "You just scared the shit out of me!"

Kenshin's mouth curled in a tiny smile. He bowed slightly by way of apology, then walked on ahead toward the shrine. Baiko quickly recovered his wits and caught up with him, but Kenshin could tell Baiko was agitated, and not just from Kenshin's sudden appearance.

"Himura," Baiko finally said, "you heard what those soldiers said back there, didn't you?"

Kenshin sighed. Here it comes, he thought. "Aa," he answered.

Baiko was fidgeting with the hilt of his katana; he was clearly on edge. "You were right—people are out after you," he admitted. "I guess I shouldn't have doubted you, but…."

But the whole thing just didn't make sense to him. The point of the revolution was to bring the emperor back to power, wasn't it? So why would Kenshin kill the emperor's own palace guards? Unless those stories about the Hitokiri Battousai were true and he really did kill just for the fun of it….

Kenshin sighed again. There was nothing for it but to tell Baiko the truth. "You know about Kinmon no Hen?" he asked softly.

"Sure, everyone does. It was when Chousu tried to kidnap the emperor and force the shogun's hand. It was a shameful day for Satsuma because we ended up allying with those bastards from Aizu to stop them. I seem to remember hearing that Kyoto almost burned down that day."

"Not all the Chousu leaders approved of that plan," Kenshin said, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "Katsura Kogoro knew it was a mistake. He was my commander—the commander of the Chousu Ishin Shishi in Kyoto—and he wanted to stop what he knew would be a disastrous mistake. Three thousand Chousu men were about to arrive from the south, so he ordered us to storm the palace first and hold it until he could rally the troops loyal to him and block the kidnapping. They sent me ahead to kill as many palace guards as possible before our own men moved in. I took the guards by surprise—I managed to kill twenty-three before anyone noticed. It's possible this Ozawa-san's brother was among them."

Baiko stopped walking and stared at Kenshin. Twenty-three men? In cold blood? He had heard of hardened murderers who thought nothing of slaughtering people unawares, but Kenshin? And all this took place seven long years ago, which meant… No, it couldn't be—Kenshin was only twenty-two now, though he looked much younger. But if he really was only twenty-two, then when he killed all those men—when he became the feared Hitokiri Battousai—he must have been only….

"Sessha was fifteen," Kenshin said, once again anticipating Baiko's question.

"Kami-sama," Baiko muttered softly.

They walked some more in total silence. He could feel Baiko struggling to come to grips with what he had just heard.

"Baiko," Kenshin finally said, "the hitokiri no longer exists. Sessha vowed never to kill again, and this one meant it. Sessha lives now only to atone for all the lives that were taken by his blade, nothing more."

"Kami-sama," Baiko muttered once more. "Kami-sama."

They had reached the shrine by now, and Kenshin walked forward to rinse his hands at the purification fountain at its entrance. It was a very plain shrine—really just a simple cedar building.

"Not much to it, is there," Kenshin commented. He pulled a coin from his sleeve pocket and placed it in the offering box.

"I wonder why Shimazu-sama sets such a high store by it," Baiko said. "Doesn't look all that special to me."

"Well, it is imperial," Kenshin remarked. "It does have the emperor's crest after all, so there must be something to it."

He clapped his hands twice, as was the custom at a Shinto shrine, then bowed deeply and prayed. Baiko followed suit. When they were done, Baiko said, "Didn't know you were the religious type."

Kenshin laughed softly. "This one isn't, but when one has so much to atone for, it doesn't hurt to get as much help as one can, you know?"

They hurried along now on the path leading to the old Noh theater. Kenshin felt his tension start to lessen as they walked through the deep woods. It was so peaceful here, almost like his home in the mountains with Hiko. The sound of the leaves as the light breeze swept by had that subtle swishing sound that always reminded him of sheets of paper rustling together. He wished he could just stop and sit under one of these majestic old trees to drink in that soothing sound, but they were running late. Maybe later, if there was time.

Baiko, on the other hand, was still on edge, and he found himself involuntarily scanning the branches for signs of bandits or other hidden dangers. Why was he so jumpy all of the sudden? He glanced sideways at Kenshin and saw that Kenshin, at least , seemed at ease. Intellectually, he knew that if Kenshin sensed no danger, then neither should he, but he couldn't shake it. What was wrong with him!

Then he realized. Back in the city it had hit him, like a fist to the stomach, that the man he now considered a friend truly was a hitokiri. Yes, he had heard all the stories before—that the Hitokiri Battousai lived for killing, that he reveled in blood, that he wasn't even human—but he hadn't thought much of it because it had nothing to do with him. So, when his old commander Matsuo had told them that the Hitokiri Battousai was not some evil demon but a good man, he believed it. And why not, after all? Matsuo had never told a lie in his life. If Matsuo said the Battousai was a good man, then it was true.

But that was all in the abstract. That was before Baiko had actually seen Kenshin in action. He had only caught the tale end of Kenshin's fight with the bandits, but what he saw had left him speechless. The speed, the deadly accuracy—there was no question the man he had taken to calling a friend was a killer. Then today, to experience first-hand the way Kenshin could seemingly disappear in broad daylight, to know he was being tracked without even a hint of Kenshin's presence—it had more than rattled his nerves. He didn't know what to make of the sakabatou or Kenshin's apparent vow never to kill again, but during the whole trek through the city to the shrine, all Baiko could think about was that at any second his life could be brought to a sudden and bloody end—by this seemingly kind and gentle man. It was almost as if Kenshin were two different people, he realized—the gentle rurouni, but also a potentially ruthless killer. He looked once again at Kenshin. There was a sort of far-off look on Kenshin's face, so different from the guarded expression he usually wore, and that's when Baiko saw it—a look of unfathomable sadness. In the blink of an eye it was gone, replaced again by that guarded expression, but it had been there.

Fifteen, Baiko thought—Kenshin was only fifteen when he was turned into a killer. Baiko felt that righteous anger well up in him yet again. Katsura Kogoro, Kenshin had said—that's who commanded him back during the Bakumatsu. Katsura Kogoro, whom everyone now revered as one of the great fathers of the new era. Great father? Bullshit! No father would ever turn a fifteen-year-old into a hitokiri! Not even the new era was worth doing that to a young boy! He swore to himself then and there that if he ever crossed paths with this Katsura Kogoro, he would kill him for what he had done to Kenshin.