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An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 9

by Conspirator ::: 06.Nov.2004

It wasn't hard to find the old Noh theater. Even Baiko, who didn't have much talent for sensing ki, could have found it with his eyes closed. All they had to do was follow the rather obvious sounds of yelling, singing, and hammering coming from down one of the paths. It all sounded so normal and reassuring after the tension that had gripped them earlier in the city. Kenshin and Baiko grinned to each other in relief as they approached, then walked through the open doorway to a scene of barely controlled chaos.

To their right, the four boys were practicing a rather elaborate acrobatics routine. Bunjiro, the eldest, was barking out the orders as the other three performed a series of spectacular back handstands, leaps, and rolls. To the rear were Ikuko, Mayako, and Mei practicing the music for the afternoon's performance. Noriko was practicing a dance to the music, with little Nomi next to her doing a rather good job of copying her mother's movements.

To their left they found, to their surprise, Ennosuke, who was sitting in the strangest contraption Kenshin had ever seen—a western-style, high-backed chair with wheels. From the sing-song sound of Ennosuke's voice and the rather wild gesticulations he was making, it looked like he was rehearsing part of some play. When Ennosuke saw them, he stopped and rolled himself over.

"What do you think?" Ennosuke asked enthusiastically as he waved his hands over the chair. "The doctor lent it to me. I tell you, those gaijin sure do come up with some useful contraptions!" He circled around the two men, being careful not to hit them with his outstretched broken leg.

"Are you acting today?" Baiko asked in surprise.

"Sure! Why not, now that I can move around?" Ennosuke said. "It's just a little between-acts thing, but still—I'd go crazy if I had to wait weeks before getting into makeup again!" Then, with a quick nod of the head, he was off to practice some more.

As for Orinosuke and Ryosuke, they were in the center of the theater trying to attach the portable ramp to the front of the stage.

"This isn't going to work," they could hear Orinosuke say in a disgusted voice. "I don't care how many nails you put in this thing, it isn't going to hold."

"Will you shut up already?" Ryosuke snapped. He had three nails sticking out of his mouth and a hammer in his hand. "Just because we don't have time to find a carpenter doesn't mean we can't get this done—ouch!!"

He spit out the nails and dropped the hammer. "Damn—that hurts!" he cursed as he looked at the thumb he had just hit instead of the nail. He stuck the offending digit into his mouth and started sucking on it to calm the pain. As he did, the ramp detached itself from the stage and clattered to the ground.

"What did I tell you," Orinosuke fumed. "This is ridiculous—the whole idea of making this damned trip was ridiculous! First the accident with that damned wagon, then the bandits—we shouldn't have to put up with this!"

Ryosuke rounded on him, throbbing thumb forgotten. "Just shut up, will you? Just cut it out! Father's already given you permission to leave—isn't that enough for you? Just drop it!" He picked up the hammer again and tried once more to position the ramp on the edge of the stage.

By this time, Kenshin and Baiko had reached them and had grabbed the sides of the ramp to steady it. Ryosuke gave them a look of thanks, then started placing another nail for yet another attempt at securing the ramp to the stage.

"It's about time you two showed up," Orinosuke snarled at them. "Where have you been? You were expected half an hour ago."

"Lay off!" Ryosuke growled through his mouth full of nails.

"Gomen nasai," Baiko said, bowing deeply as he tried to hold the now shaking ramp, "but your father told us to blanket the city with posters, and it's a big city. Say, exactly what are you trying to do with this thing anyway?"

Ryosuke wiped his brow with his forearm, then spit out the nails. "I don't supposed either of you is any good with a hammer and nails, are you? We've got to get this thing attached to the front as a kind of walkway. That's how our stage is set up in Kagoshima—we bring the play into the audience so they feel like they're part of the action. We were so late in getting here, though, that we couldn't hire a carpenter to do it, and I'm hopeless with a hammer, and First Brother's arm is still sore from that gash he got in the fight yesterday…."

Baiko took the hammer from Ryosuke and picked up the nails. "Here, leave this to me," he said. "I learned some carpentry in the army. You get me those two wooden trunks you use for costumes, and I'll make you a walkway you could march an army over."

Orinosuke's eyes bored into Baiko's as he tried to decide whether to trust a mere former soldier with the job or not. Then he glanced back at Ryosuke, who was sucking on his injured thumb again. Kenshin could almost hear him think, 'Pathetic.' After another moment of glaring at everyone around him, Orinosuke shouted out, "Bunjiro, Byako! Go empty the two costume trunks and bring them here right now! And mind you fold those costumes up neatly, or your grandmother will have your hides!"

Baiko grinned and bowed deeply. "Thank you for your confidence, Orinosuke-san," he said. "You won't regret it, I promise!"

"I'm not confident," Orinosuke snapped, "and this thing had better not collapse during the performance, or you'll be sorry you were ever born!" Then he stalked off to a small side table and started wetting an inkstone in preparation for writing.

"You really think you can do this?" Ryosuke asked Baiko.

"Sure, no problem," Baiko reassured him. "You go on and rehearse with Himura. I'll have this done in a jiffy."

"Well, if you say so," Ryosuke said hesitantly, but they could tell he was relieved. "Come on, Himura-san, we've got work to do."

Kenshin whispered, "Good luck," then followed Ryosuke up onto the stage. He reached for a pair of high geta that someone had left there for him and started warming up with some of the onnagata kata he had invented for himself. Ryosuke watched as Kenshin practiced the mincing steps and graceful arm movements of a woman. Not bad, Ryosuke noted, but nowhere near as fluid as they had been just two days ago. Great, he thought darkly—all he needed now was to find that the rurouni had forgotten everything they had taught him. But as he continued to watch, he saw that Kenshin's movements became smoother and more natural-looking. In fact, he could have sworn he recognized some of his mother's distinctive mannerisms. Maybe everything would turn out fine….

"I hope you remember this play, Himura-san," Ryosuke finally said after a few minutes of watching, "because I don't think I can take any more setbacks today."

Kenshin put on his vacant smile and pretended to whip a fan modestly in front of his face.

"I don't know, Himura-san, what with everything that's happened these past two days and First Brother getting on my nerves, I'm not sure I'm in the right frame of mind for doing comedy today. I may have to play a practical joke on someone just to get in the mood."

Kenshin stopped in mid-step, his senses on sudden alert. Ryosuke, who up until this moment had been the picture of glumness, now had a strange glint in his eye. Why did Kenshin get the distinct impression that the person Ryosuke was thinking of playing this little joke on was Kenshin himself?

"Perhaps sessha could tell you a funny story to get you in the mood," he said quickly. Anything to avoid a practical joke by an obvious master of the art!

"I don't know…," Ryosuke demurred, but Kenshin started in anyway, telling him about the farmer at Kenshin's first performance who had proposed marriage to him. As he came to the actual proposal and how Baiko pretended to be his fiance, Ryosuke roared with laughter.

"You're right, Himura-san, that was pretty funny! A marriage proposal! And Baiko your fiance? Priceless!" He reached behind the curtain that formed the stage's backdrop and grabbed his props. "Come on, I think I'm in the mood now. Let's rehearse!"

Kenshin silently breathed a sigh of relief.

It had been two days since Kenshin's first performance, and only three since he had been taught what to do, yet everything seemed to come back to him quickly. When he would have a momentary lapse, Ryosuke would quickly supply a cue, and then he'd remember. The first run-through was a bit stiff, but considering how new Kenshin was to all this, it went quite well. The second run-through went much more smoothly, with the two of them starting to goad each other on the way they had at the first performance.

Ryosuke, in fact, was amazed as he watched Kenshin perform. Had it only been three days since he had begun teaching Kenshin this part? Except for the fact that Kenshin had no lines to speak, he could have passed for a fairly competent kabuki actor. As they finished the climactic bean-throwing scene, Ryosuke jumped to his feet and pounded him on the back saying, "Great job, Himura-san, great job, especially considering all the distractions!"

Distractions? Kenshin had been concentrating so hard he had blocked out all the commotion going on around them, but now he noticed that the women were still practicing their instruments, and Baiko and Orinosuke were hammering fabric bunting to the sides of the now firmly attached ramp. Ryosuke was already admiring it and trying it out by jumping on it to test its strength. "First Brother!" Ryosuke called out. "Hop up here with me—let's give it a try!"

He took a fighting stance, and suddenly Orinosuke was up there with him, a fierce grin on his face. The two circled, then suddenly lunged at each other in a perfect imitation of a swordfight. They swung and parried, thrust and blocked, until finally Ryosuke had his sword at Orinosuke's neck. At least he would have if he had actually been holding a sword in his hand. It was so realistic, in fact, that even for Kenshin it took a moment to realize that it had all been choreographed, and they had done it all with nothing but air in their hands. Those kabuki kata really worked! Orinosuke jumped up now from his position on the floor as if nothing had happened and turned to Baiko with a curt bow. "Quite satisfactory," was all he said. Then he jumped off the ramp and walked away.

"Why, I do believe First Brother just complimented you!" Ryosuke said to Baiko. "That's one for the record books!" Baiko just beamed.

"Well, Himura-san, we'd better get this stage cleared," Ryosuke said now as he watched his brother looking expectantly out the theater door. "Those extras should have been here by now, and they'll need an empty stage to practice on."

Baiko returned to putting the bunting on the ramp while Kenshin and Ryosuke started moving the props backstage. As they did, Ryosuke found himself pondering a question that had been bugging him ever since their fight with the bandits: how could he, let alone his father, have missed the fact that this unassuming young man was not what he seemed? All of them, except perhaps his oldest brother, had believed Kenshin was exactly what he appeared to be—a homeless wanderer down on his luck. Yes, Kenshin carried a sword, but then most people did nowadays just for personal protection. Who would have thought the man actually was a master swordsman? Ryosuke had always considered himself an astute observer of human behavior, as any good actor must be, so how could he have been so wrong about the talents of this man? Yes, he had noticed a kind of confidence lurking in the background of Kenshin's demeanor that one wouldn't expect in a down-and-out vagabond, yet….

As he continued to watch Kenshin at work, he started scrutinizing the vacant smile and the purposely expressionless eyes. That's when Ryosuke understood: the man was, in reality, a consummate actor—in fact, such a good actor that he had managed to fool even Daisuke, whom everyone considered to be one of Japan's greatest. Only Orinosuke hadn't been fooled, although he was sure even his brother had not realized the extent of the rurouni's hidden talent.

So was his brother right that Kenshin was a danger to them all? Had they all been suckered in by Kenshin's seeming innocence to the point that they had put everyone's life at risk? Ryosuke's mind raced through the events of the past four days—the way Kenshin had rushed to help them when the wagon fell on Ennosuke's leg, the way Kenshin had saved Byako from breaking his neck, the way Kenshin had managed to defeat the yakuza without killing a single one of them. And despite the fact that twice Orinosuke had physically threatened him, Kenshin had not lifted a finger in self-defense. No, these were not the actions of a dangerous man, but they were the actions of a man who possessed supreme confidence in his own skills. So why was Kenshin taking such extraordinarly steps to hide them? It just didn't make sense.

Ryosuke finally couldn't stand it anymore. As Kenshin passed by him with an armload of props, he stopped him and said, "Himura-san, I'm a blunt man. I say what's on my mind, social graces be damned. We all know now that you're no mere wanderer. You've got talent with a sword that defies belief. I can think of at least a dozen men in Kagoshima alone who would hire you in a second as a bodyguard, so it can't be that no one's ever offered you a job. So why do you play-act at being a rurouni?"

Kenshin was so astonished by Ryosuke's question that he almost dropped what he was carrying. Not for the first time had this man surprised him with his sharp insights. He quickly put the vacant smile back on his face and said simply, "This one wouldn't be suited very well to a job like that."

Now that Ryosuke had figured out that it was all an act, however, he found himself a bit annoyed with Kenshin's evasiveness. "Not good enough, Himura-san. I can understand why you might not want to stay in the army, but I can't understand why you'd want to hide such a prodigious talent. Not when you could easily make your way in the world with it."

A moment passed as the smile faded, replaced by an inscrutible look that defied analysis. "Ryosuke-san," Kenshin responded carefully, "my shishou taught that a practitioner of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu should answer only to his own conscience, never to the orders of another. Sessha disobeyed that teaching only once. It was a big mistake." Then he turned quickly and went behind the curtains with his armload of props. This was definitely a conversation he did not want to prolong.

It was as he was going backstage that he sensed it—the unmistakable ki of a large group of armed men coming their way. It was such an unexpected event that he stopped what he was doing and stood stock still, his concentration set solely on the mass of ki moving his way. They were trained swordsmen, he could tell, and they were on edge, but they didn't seem to be on their way to battle. He stepped back through the curtain onto the stage to see what was going on just as Orinosuke came through the theater door yelling, "Finally! The extras are here!"

Extras. Daisuke had mentioned something about extras that morning. Now Kenshin realized he had no idea what that meant, but he had the uncomfortable feeling it had something to do with the swordsmen who were fast approaching the theater. He had no desire to give Ryosuke another opportunity to ask any more uncomfortable questions, but Ryosuke was the only person nearby who could answer his question. So, Kenshin walked back over to him and asked as calmly as he could, "What exactly are extras?"

"Extras?" Ryosuke responded somewhat absently. His mind was still chewing over what Kenshin had said before. "Oh, they're kind of like filler on the stage—background soldiers and the like. Why?"

"The men coming now—they're the extras?" Kenshin pressed.

Ryosuke looked at him now and noticed that although Kenshin's face showed nothing, his eyes were tense and wary. "Aa, they're the extras—members of Shimazu-sama's ceremonial guard. We usually use apprentices for this, but …."

"His ceremonial guard?" Kenshin's voice sounded calm, but inside his stomach was tying itself into a huge knot. He needed to disappear, and fast! As innocently as he could, he said, "Well, if you don't need this one anymore, perhaps sessha could go find someplace quiet to practice moving like a woman?"

"Yeah, sure, Himura-san…," Rysouke started to say, but Kenshin was already gone. In just the two seconds it had taken Ryosuke to say those few words, Kenshin had disappeared. How could a man move so fast that one's eyes literally couldn't take it in? It was impossible, yet…. He didn't have time to think on it any further, though, for his father now entered the theater at the head of twelve swordsmen dressed in the uniform of the Shimazu clan.

"Halt!" Daisuke shouted out. "At ease, men. Wait here while we prepare the stage."

"What took you so long?" an irritated Orinosuke said as soon as Daisuke had given the order.

"I'm well aware of how late it is," Daisuke answered testily. "Suffice to say that when I got to the governor's mansion, I was waylaid by Shimazu-sama's personal secretary. He needed to talk to me about our encounter with the bandits yesterday…."

"I knew it!" Orinosuke broke in darkly. "I knew that so-called rurouni would get us into trouble with the government! I warned you…."

"It's not what you think," Daisuke snapped back. "I'll tell you about it at lunch. Now let's get these men divided up and get on with it."

He turned and practically bumped right into the ramp that now stuck straight out into the audience space. "What the…," he sputtered. He stepped back to admire it, then called up to Ryosuke, who had just put away the last of the props, "Did you attach the ramp by yourself? I'm impressed! It's actually quite sturdy."

Ryosuke laughed. "Actually, it was Baiko-san who did it. Seems he's got talents we never dreamed of!"

Daisuke walked around the ramp, then peeked behind the bunting. "Brilliant!" he enthused. "Using our trunks like that for stability—brilliant! Well, go tell the women to stop practicing, and take the boys outside to finish whatever they're doing. Third Son," he called over to Ennosuke, who was doing wheelies in his wheelchair, "get yourself and that contraption out of here before you get run over. First Son and I need to divide these men up and run them through their paces."

Orinosuke was already in the process of selecting six men for his group, but the men weren't being very attentive. Daisuke was surprised—these were considered to be Shimazu-sama's best-trained and best-disciplined men. He strode over to give them a lecture on discipline but stopped as he caught some of their conversation.

"…killed his brother," he heard one soldier say to another, "so he's out for revenge…."

"What's going on?" Daisuke broke in, pushing the men aside as he did so. "Who's out for revenge?"

"Ozawa-san—the tall one over there. He says the man who killed his brother during the Bakumatsu has been sighted in Miyazaki, and he's sworn to find him and get his revenge!" one of the soldiers explained excitedly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Daisuke muttered. "Well, not on my time he won't!" He started heading for the man in question, but the soldier stopped him.

"Daisuke-san, you don't understand! The man who killed his brother was the Hitokiri Battousai. That's who's been sighted—the demon of Kyoto! No one's seen him for years, and now he's been sighted right here in Miyazaki! Don't you realize what that means? Every one of us is in danger with him around!"

"That's ridiculous!" Daisuke said, his temper rising. "First off, no one even knows what the Hitokiri Battousai looked like…."

"Oh, yes we do!" another soldier broke in. "He's got…."

But Daisuke was angry now and wasn't listening. They were already running late. All he needed now was a bunch of pumped-up swordsmen out for revenge against some figment of their imagination. They'd never get anything done at this rate! He put his fingers in his mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle before the man could finish his sentence. Everyone went silent.

"Now listen to me—all of you!" Daisuke shouted out, his eyes glowering. "All this talk about a hitokiri and revenge, I'll have none of it, you understand? You're here to follow our orders, not to chase down some ridiculous rumor! You will say and do nothing about this revenge business while you are under our command, or I will report you to your captain!"

The men started grumbling and eyeing the doorway nervously as if they expected the Hitokiri Battousai to burst through it at any moment.

"Remember," Daisuke added ominously, "you are here at the orders of your lord. Therefore, disobeying our orders will be considered the same as disobeying his orders, and you all know the consequences of that, I presume. Do I make myself clear?"

Silence descended once again.

"Good!" He looked around at the twelve soldiers, fixing them all with the fiercest glare in his arsenal of acting techniques. "Now that we understand each other, let's get to work."

He signaled for his contingent of six men to follow him; Orinosuke did likewise. As Orinosuke did, though, he said softly to the soldier next to him, "I'd like to hear more about this Hitokiri Battousai. You men actually know what he looks like, I take it."

The soldier looked back to make sure Daisuke was not within earshot, then whispered, "Yeah, a few of the others even spent time with him once. Come by the tavern after the show—the one near the governor's mansion. I'll introduce you."

Orinosuke nodded his head in agreement, then proceeded with his father to run the men through the scenes in which they would appear.

Kenshin, meanwhile, had taken off like a shot and was far into the woods before the soldiers even set foot in the theater. Shimazu-sama's ceremonial guard were the extras? How much worse could things get? 'Ceremonial guard' was the name the daimyo of Satsuma, now the governor of Satsuma, used for his contingent of bodyguards—one hundred of his best-trained and most loyal samurai. He had heard that to be accepted into the ceremonial guard, one had to serve with distinction as a soldier for a minimum of five years. He knew about them first-hand, for he had met several of them during the Bakumatsu, at the crucial meeting that reestablished the alliance between the Chousu and Satsuma Ishin Shishi.

It had taken place two years after the disastrous Chousu assault on the Imperial Palace—the assault that had led Katsura to send Kenshin and Tomoe into hiding in Otsu. The attack had caused such a serious rift between Chousu and Satsuma that Satsuma briefly went over to the Bakufu side. So, when a meeting of conciliation was proposed two years later, no one on either side trusted the other. Thus it was that Katsura, not being sure of his own safety at a meeting with former enemies, had brought Kenshin along as protection, in addition to five other bodyguards. The daimyo of Satsuma, afraid for his envoy's safety as well, had sent ten of his own, all drawn from the ranks of his ceremonial guard. And there they had all sat, staring at one another for hours on end.

That had been only five years ago. That meant there was a good chance that some, if not all, of the ten bodyguards who had been at that meeting—who had seen the Hitokiri Battousai up close—were now in Miyazaki with the governor. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he would have to leave a place because his identity had been discovered. All things being equal, in fact, this would be the point at which he would normally just disappear, never to be found again. So why was he hesitating? Every nerve in his body was telling him to leave right now, before anything else happened. So what was holding him back?

Kenshin had now come to the edge of a cliff far from the theater. Below him, spreading out like a beautiful white fan, was a beach lined with palm trees. Beyond the beach stretched the blue waters of the sea. The sight was breathtaking. He stared at it a long time, letting the beauty of the place calm his agitated mind. As he gazed out, it gradually dawned on him why he couldn't bring himself to leave. It was the sense of belonging that had slowly crept over him the past four days. How it had happened he didn't know, but somehow Daisuke and Ikuko and Ryosuke and Noriko and—well, actually, everyone except Orinosuke—had made him almost feel like part of their family. How could he repay such kindness by breaking his promise to help them, and breaking it on the very day of their most important performance? Maybe, if he was lucky, he could do this one performance and then disappear.

He sighed. The one thing he didn't want, he knew, was to be present when the family found out who he really was. It was always so painful to see the look of fear and betrayal come over the faces of those who had taken him in thinking he was just a rurouni. To see that on the faces of this family? He didn't think he could bear it. On the other hand, nothing this family had done so far had conformed to anything he had experienced anywhere else. Never in a thousand years would he have expected their reaction to seeing him fight the bandits to be, 'Wow, what a show-stopper!' In fact, he had almost started thinking that maybe this family might consider having an infamous hitokiri living with them to be way to attract even more people to the theater. And why not? After all, Satsuma had been second only to Chousu in its fervent pursuit of the revolution. Wouldn't its citizens be more likely to accept him? But then there was that Satsuma soldier they heard about this morning in the city, the one seeking revenge for the death of his brother. No, it was pretty clear now that there was probably no place in Japan that he could go without someone wanting to kill him for his past. It was just a matter of time.

He looked out once more at the beauty of the ocean, then turned back toward the forest to begin his practice, for now he had resolved to do at least this one performance before going on his way. It was an odd feeling to know that this time it would not be his sword that would protect him from his enemies, but his ability to act like a woman. He reassured himself that what Baiko had said that first day had been right so far—no one could tell he was a man, let alone who he really was, once he was in costume. Even that doctor who thought he knew Kenshin from the Kihetai hadn't recognized him when he was dressed as a woman.

He began with some simple walking and stooping exercises, adding the hand and arm movements he had copied so carefully from watching Ikuko. Then it was on to sitting and standing, pouring tea and fanning, and all the other womanly things he would be doing onstage. His concentration was such that he lost track of time; only the occasional grumble of his stomach reminded him that lunchtime was fast approaching. So it was with a bit of a start that he heard Baiko call out, "Oi, Himura!" He turned to greet his friend who, he noted with surprise, seemed uncharacteristically agitated. Must be hungry, he figured.

"Is it lunchtime already?" Kenshin asked with a laugh. "Gomen nasai!" So into his practice was he that without thinking, he gave a graciously feminine bow.

"Himura, cut out the onnagata stuff," Baiko said in an urgent voice. "You've got a big problem."

Kenshin immediately dropped the act and went on alert.

"You know that guy those soldiers were talking about this morning? The one out to avenge his brother's death?" Baiko went on. "Well, it turns out he's one of Daisuke-san's extras. He was there, at the theater! And that's all those guys were talking about—about how the Hitokiri Battousai was in Miyazaka and how this guy Ozawa was going to hunt him down and kill him!"

Kenshin's heart dropped. In a grim voice, he said, "So, the family knows about me, then."

"What? No—the old man cut them off before they could give him a description. He even told them if they didn't shut up about it, he'd have their commander order 'em to commit seppuku for insubordination!" Baiko gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. "But that's not the problem. This guy'll be back there this afternoon to be in the show. What if he sees you? What if…."

"Are they still there now?" Kenshin cut in.

"No, they won't be back until about a half hour before the show, but what difference does that make? He'll still be there later on!"

"That's okay, then," Kenshin said with more assurance than he really felt. "By that time, I'll be in costume."

"Yeah, but Himura…. Wait—you're not still going out on that stage today, are you? This is a real threat! If you ask me, this pretty much takes precedence over any promise you made to Daisuke-san!"

Kenshin patted Baiko on the shoulder and said, "Calm down. After all, didn't you say even my own mother wouldn't recognize me under all that makeup and a wig?"

Baiko couldn't believe his ears. Kenshin was going to go through with this performance? "How can you be so nonchalant!" he blurted out. "This guy's out for your head! Don't you realize that?"

Kenshin sighed, then leaned back against one of the trees and closed his eyes. How to explain what had become the recurring theme of his life these past few years? "Baiko," he finally said, "here's the thing. This man—Ozawa-san?—he has a legitimate claim on my life."

"What?!"

"Sessha took the life of his brother; his claim is something sessha must accept. Now that sessha knows this man is here in Miyazaki, what this one must do is get a note to him. It will be an offer to meet him at a given time and place so he can challenge me, as his honor requires. The note will also tell him that sessha now devotes his life to atoning for all the lives lost to his blade and that sessha has vowed never to kill again. If, under those circumstances, he still wishes to meet me, then this one will be there."

Baiko was in shock. "You mean you'll just let him kill you?" he asked incredulously. "Just like that?"

Kenshin gave the tiniest of laughs. "No one said anything about that. There is a difference between accepting a challenge and being killed, you know. Although," he added as an afterthought, "there is always the chance in any encounter…."

What kind of talk was that? Baiko just stared at Kenshin with incomprehension. He was beginning to realize that even after four days, he really didn't know this man very well at all. What he did know, however, was enough to tell him that Kenshin was one of the most honorable people he had ever met, and he'd be damned if he'd just let the guy throw his life away. So he crossed his arms and planted his feet and said, "No. I can't let you do that. I'll help you pack your things, I'll help you sneak out of here, I'll help you do anything you need, but you're getting out of here now, before anyone gets wind of this. You've already got that damned Orinosuke breathing down your back. Hell, he's already tried to attack you twice. What more do you want? Are you trying to get yourself killed or something?"

Kenshin rounded on him suddenly. "Do you think I care whether I live or die?" he snapped. Then he stopped. 'I?' He quickly shook his head as if to get his brain back in gear, then said in a quieter voice. "Someone once made sessha promise to keep on living, and so this one shall honor that promise, just as sessha must try to honor the promise made to Daisuke-san. If there is a way to do that safely, then it should be done. This Ozawa-san will not attempt anything during the performance, and once my promise to Daisuke-san is fufilled today, sessha will be gone. Believe me, sessha would not do anything that might endanger Daisuke-san's family."

Baiko let out an exasperated sigh. It was pretty clear that nothing he could say would change Kenshin's mind, so he turned and started walking silently back towards the theater. Kenshin followed. Baiko's mind, however, was anything but silent. He had had enough of battles and swords and friends injured or killed, and Kenshin was a friend, even if he had known him only a few days. He thought back to how terrified he had felt as Kenshin followed him through the city from the rooftops. He thought about how upset he had felt when he realized that Kenshin had been no more than a boy when the Ishin Shishi turned him into a hitokiri. He remembered wondering, back when he first met Kenshin, why someone everyone considered to be one of the greatest patriots didn't have some kind of high-ranking job in the new government. Now he knew. It was Kenshin himself, in fact, who had answered that one, back when that doctor had recognized him from the Kihetai. The Bakumatsu was no place for a boy with idealism, was what he had said. It was as if Kenshin regretted the whole thing.

"You know, it's all that Katsura Kogoro's fault," Baiko said to Kenshin, breaking the uncomfortable. "He should've known better than to take a kid who's not old enough to understand what's going on and turn him into some kind of killing machine. How could he have done that to you? I mean, he stole your life from you even before you got to live it!"

Kenshin looked at him in surprise—no one had ever suggested such a thing to him before. He gave a rueful little laugh. "Would you believe," he said, "that when Katsura-san asked me to deliver heaven's justice, this one didn't even realize that he meant 'go out and be a hitokiri?' Sessha was very naïve. Still, sessha knew that the new age had to come, and come soon, even if this one did not survive to see it. My commitment to that never wavered. So, don't be too hard on Katsura Kogoro. He was a courageous man who managed to sweep away a hated and unjust government. And in many ways, he was very good to me."

"Good to you?" Baiko said disgustedly. "Listen, Himura, with friends like that, you don't need enemies. If he hadn't turned you into a hitokiri, you wouldn't be in the fix you're in."

Kenshin smiled. "It's okay, Baiko—sessha's used to it by now."

Used to it? Well, maybe Kenshin was used to it, but Baiko sure wasn't about to accept it. In fact, now that they were close enough to the theater to make out the roof through the trees, he started worrying all over again for Kenshin's safety. He wondered how long they really had before someone, most likely Orinosuke, discovered Kenshin's true identity. He could only imagine what would happen then. It really was amazing, when he thought about it, that Daisuke and his family still had no idea what the Hitokiri Battousai looked like, but he guessed that came from living in Kagoshima instead of Kyoto all these years. A piece of luck, really. He wondered if Kenshin knew why the family had left the capital back during the war—it was something he himself had only just found out.

"You know what Ennosuke-san told me this morning while I was wheeling him around in that contraption of his?" Baiko asked conversationally. "Seems all this time he and his brothers thought Daisuke-san moved them from Kyoto because all the assassinations had scared people away from coming to the theater, but that wasn't really it."

"It wasn't?" That was the explanation Kenshin had heard from Ikuko, and it had him feel even guiltier about his past.

"No—seems that old Daisuke-san was secretly funneling money to the Ishin Shishi, and after that massacre at the Ikedaya, he found out he was on a Shinsengumi hit list. He just told them about it two nights ago. Can you believe it?"

Kenshin stopped walking. Daisuke had been actively supporting the Ishin Shishi? Then it wasn't entirely his doing—or, more precisely, the Hitokiri Battousai's doing—that the family had to leave Kyoto! "Baiko," Kenshin said, his face brightening considerably, "that's about the best piece of news sessha has heard all day!"

Baiko seemed genuinely surprised. "How could being on a hit list be good news?"

"It's just, well, these people have been so kind to me, almost like this one is part of their family, so it was really weighing on my mind that it was most likely my actions that had caused them to lose their livelihood in Kyoto. If that hadn't happened, then they wouldn't be facing the prospect of having their eldest son leave them now. But now sessha knows it wasn't just because of me. That's a relief."

"What do you care what that bastard does, after all he's done to you? You're crazier than I thought."

"Baiko, he may be a bastard, but he's still a human being. He's just trying to live his life the best he knows how."

As soon as the words left his mouth, a strange feeling came over Kenshin that he had heard someone say those very words to him once upon a time. "Geez," he murmured to no one in particular, "now sessha's starting to sound like Hiko…."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Kenshin shrugged, a strange half-smile on his face. "Come on, we'd better get a move on or there won't be anything left for us to eat." And with that, the two hurried the rest of the way to the theater.