Watsuki Nobuhiro. Jump Comics. Viz. Many others. Copyright holders all. Not me. Darn.
While handing out flyers in Miyazaki, Kenshin is recognized, and now there’s a rumor that the Hitokiri Battousai’s in town. Kenshin knows he must leave the Daisuke family as soon as possible, but that may not be so easy.

Here’s a list of who’s who in the Daisuke family:

Daisuke: also called Father, Father-in-Law.
Orinosuke: also called First Son, First Brother.
Ryosuke: also called Second Son, Second Brother.
Ennosuke: also called Youngest Son, Youngest Brother.
Ikuko: Daisuke’s wife.&9;
Mayako: Orinosuke’s wife.
Mei: Ryosuke’s wife.
Noriko: Ennosuke’s wife.
Bunjiro, Byako: Orinosuke’s sons.
Saburo, Oda: Ryosuke’s sons.
Nomi: Ennosuke’s daughter.
None.
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An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 10


by Conspirator ::: 31.Jan.2005


One thing you could say about being a rurouni—life was always full of surprises. Wandering as he did, Kenshin was always at the mercy of those who agreed to hire him, and so he had found himself working as a cook, a dishwasher, a blacksmith’s helper, a farmhand, a handyman, even a babysitter once to twins. Never in a million years, though, would he have thought he’d end up as a kabuki actor, and an onnagata one at that. He had been understandably reluctant to agree to this crazy notion, but now that he had done it, now that he had actually performed before an audience, he found that Ikuko had been absolutely right—it feel good to make people laugh. Hell, it felt good to find laughing. He only had about half a day left with this strange family before he would have to slip away; he was determined to enjoy every moment as much as he could. Despite everything, therefore, he actually found himself looking forward to the afternoon’s performance.

And so, as he and Baiko entered the yard behind the theater to eat lunch, he wore a small smile on his face that, for once, was genuine. It didn’t last long. As soon as they walked in, Ikuko was thrusting bento boxes into their hands with exhortations to hurry and eat, and everyone seemed to be talking to them all at once.

"Where did you say you found him?" Ryosuke finally managed to ask Baiko. "A mile from here?" Turning to Kenshin, he added gruffly, "When you said you were going somewhere to practice, I thought you meant somewhere near here! Do you realize what time it is?"

Kenshin was caught off guard. His smile faded as he heard a sarcastic snort coming from Orinosuke and felt the eyes of everyone bearing down upon him. He felt like an errant child caught coming home late after curfew. He was determined, however, not to let anything stand in the way of his enjoying this day, so he turned on his vacant smile.

"Please forgive sessha," he said as he bowed low in apology. "It’s just that at the end of this path is a cliff overlooking a beach and the sea. It was so beautiful that this one lost track of time."

He peeked out through his bangs to gauge their reaction and saw the faces around him soften. Once again he found himself amazed at the disarming power of that silly little smile.

"A beach?" Ryosuke’s seven-year-old, Saburo, suddenly piped up. "Mama, a beach! Can we go shelling? I’ll bet there are lots of shells there! Please, Mama, please?"

Now Saburo’s little brother Oda and Ennosuke’s three-year-old, Nomi, started begging as well. Mei looked to her husband, who looked to his father, who gave a barely perceptible nod of agreement. "Yes, dumpling," she smiled. "Tomorrow morning you and all your cousins can go shelling."

A whoop went up from the children, and Nomi ran over to hug Kenshin, saying, "You, too, Uncle Ken-san—you come, too!"

Kenshin just barely managed to save his bento box from the onslaught. "But sessha’s not a cousin," he laughed as he extricated himself from the hug. "You bring some back for me instead, okay?" No doubt about it, he was going to miss these children.

The notion of doing something fun released the children’s pent-up energy. The past four days had been hard on them, and now nothing short of the voice of doom was going to quiet them down. That’s exactly what they got.

"Children!" Daisuke thundered in his most theatrical manner. "That’s enough!"

A silence fell, broken only by a giggle from Byako. Daisuke fixed him with a glare. "Daughter-in-Law, take these scofflaws out front to play, would you, before they taste the wrath of their grandfather!" Another whoop went up. "The cheek of that boy," Daisuke added in a mock pout, "laughing at my best demon’s roar."

Everyone was chuckling now, annoyance at Kenshin’s lateness all but forgotten. In fact, Daisuke seemed extremely pleased with himself.

"Gentlemen," he said with gusto after the women and children had left, "we have business to discuss. It seems that the yakuza we fought yesterday had a price on their heads—a very hefty price—and we, as the men who defeated them, have earned ourselves a very substantial reward from the government!" He smiled broadly as he took in the looks of amazement on the faces around him. "This," he said to Orinosuke, "is what Shimazu-sama’s personal secretary had to tell me this morning.

"The reward," he continued, "is so substantial that all of us, including our two swordsmen here plus the horse and wagon, could all take the ferry back to Kagoshima instead of going back by land, and still there would be enough left over for generous individual rewards! Wife has suggested we do this in light of Youngest Son’s injury. Whatever is left over will be split evenly between all six of us. After all, if it were not for these two," he turned now to bow deeply to Kenshin and Baiko, "I believe we would not even be alive today."

Daisuke looked up to find everyone in a state of shock. Baiko, who had a mouthful of food, was so surprised he didn’t know whether to swallow first or return the bow first, and so found himself somewhere in between. As for Kenshin, he seemed frozen with hashi halfway to his mouth. A reward? For fighting? Oh no, no, no, no, no!

"A reward," breathed Ryosuke. "Who would have thought…. I mean, a bunch of actors like us…."

"Well, we did have some expert help," Ennosuke noted quickly with a bow in Kenshin and Baiko’s direction.

"More expert than you know," Orinosuke muttered darkly as he sent a deadly glare at Kenshin.

"So, are we agreed, then? Daisuke asked. "We use part of the reward for the ferry and split the rest between the six of us?"

Orinosuke suddenly stood up. "You do what you want," he said disgustedly. "I’m through trying to convince you of your errors." Then he stalked out.

"What the hell is he talking about?" Daisuke started to ask, but Ryosuke said, "Just let him leave. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got a deal. Right, Brother?"

Ennosuke nodded in agreement, as did Baiko, but Kenshin still seemed frozen. How could he possibly agree to such a thing? He lowered his hashi and said, "It is most kind of you, but sessha couldn’t possibly…."

A sudden jab to his ribs cut him off. "It’s most generous!" Baiko cut in. "We accept—don’t we, Himura?"

"But…."

He jabbed Kenshin again. "Just smile and shut up!" he hissed urgently in Kenshin’s ear. Kenshin smiled as ordered and nodded his head quickly.

"Excellent!" said Daisuke. He rubbed his hands together with satisfaction, then said, "This is clearly a good omen for the day, so let’s take advantage of it and get to work—we’ve got a show to do in less than two hours! Baiko-san, you’ll show the food and souvenir vendors where to set up when they get here. Himura-san, you and Second Son start getting the stage set for your play; Wife will come for you as soon as she’s ready to do your make-up. The rest of you, let’s get those costumes hung up backstage and get our make-up on. Warm-ups in forty-five minutes!" And with that, Daisuke and his sons quickly got up and left.

"What the hell were you thinking, telling them you can’t accept that reward?" Baiko practically exploded as soon as the two were alone. "You trying to draw more attention to yourself or something? Of all the stupid, lame-brained things to say…."

"You don’t understand!" Kenshin said tersely, clearly taken aback at Baiko’s outburst. "There’s no way sessha will ever accept money for wielding a sword!"

Baiko sighed in exasperation. "Himura," he said slowly as if he were talking to a dolt, "you’re on the verge of being discovered, which you’re trying to avoid, right?"

"Right."

"And the idea is for you to leave before anyone figures out who you really are, right?"

"Right."

"And you’re determined to leave as soon as your play’s over, right?"

"Right."

Baiko sighed once more. Could the man really be this dense? "Then why, Himura, do you need to say anything at all about the reward? You won’t even be here when they give it out, you idiot!"

"Oh…."

"’Oh?’" Baiko spluttered in exasperation. "That’s all you have to say is ‘oh?’ Listen, Himura, you might not be around when they give out that reward, but I will be, so don’t go screwing this thing up for me! I mean, I could really use that money, but if they find out I’ve known all along that you’re the Hitokiri Batt…."

Kenshin suddenly grabbed Baiko’s arm and said, "Shh!" Not two seconds later, Ryosuke stuck his head out the backstage door calling out, "Hurry and finish, you two! The vendors are starting to show up already and we still have to get this stage ready!"

"Coming, coming!" Baiko called back as he tossed his bento box into a nearby trash heap. He got up to leave, but he turned back to Kenshin and said, "You know, you don’t have to do this—you could just take off right now. They’ve got plenty of time to figure out what to do without you."

Baiko was doing all he could to act nonchalant, but Kenshin could tell he was worried that something would happen when the ceremonial guards showed up. "It’ll be okay," Kenshin reassured him. "Even if someone recognized me, they wouldn’t risk doing anything about it during the performance. Anyway, sessha feels honor-bound to keep my promise to Daisuke-san. As soon as this one is done performing, sessha will leave. Everyone will be too busy to notice."

"Baiko, get out here—now!"

It was Orinosuke’s voice, and Baiko quickly noted not only the irritated tone, but also the lack of an honorific. The old sourpuss was obviously in a particularly lousy mood. "I gotta get going," he said as he headed off, "but promise you won’t leave without saying goodbye first."

Now there was a request Kenshin rarely, if ever, heard. "Sessha promises, but where will you be?"

"Look for me out front if I don’t find you first," Baiko replied. "And remember, keep your mouth shut!" Then he hurried off towards the front courtyard.

The backstage area of the old Noh theater was a cavernous room, a room large enough to comfortably hold at least a dozen actors and their costumes, several musicians and their instruments, and still have room left over for boxes of props. When Kenshin had run off before lunch, the room had been virtually empty, but now it was all he could do to not run into someone or something. In one corner were Byako, Saburo, and Oda getting changed into their acrobat costumes, with help from Byako’s mother Mayako. Noriko was opening a tall folding screen nearby and hanging what Kenshin figured must be her dancing costume on its top edge. Nearby, Ikuko had Bunjiro standing on a box with a too-long man’s kimono draped on him as she worked to alter the garment to fit his short body. Along a good part of the back wall the men had rigged a taut rope on which Daisuke and Orinosuke were hanging costumes, most of which Kenshin recognized from their performance in the small hamlet two days before.

But it was what Ryosuke’s wife Mei was doing that stopped him dead in his tracks. She had laid out four small mats and four low tables, on which she was calmly placing four heads. Each head had a face painted on it, and on each she placed a wig. It was all done so matter-of-factly—clearly nothing out of the ordinary—but for Kenshin it brought back sudden memories of black envelopes and the sound a head made as it tumbled from its owner. Mei noticed him staring and said, "I painted the faces myself. Do you like them?"

Her question quickly pulled Kenshin back to the present. "Aa," he stuttered, still trying to reconcile his memories with what he was seeing. "They’re quite…realistic."

Mei tittered in embarrassment. "I made Husband’s the most handsome," she whispered loudly. Then, blushing, she rushed off to start putting out mirrors and pots of make-up.

Kenshin tore his eyes away from the disturbing sight and headed for the boxes of props, which sat near the steps leading to the stage area. There was the chest of armaments that had so worried him that first evening, and boxes and boxes of all sorts of items, from the pots and pans needed for his own play to the parts for the barrier gate needed for the drama Kanjincho. He grabbed the box with the pots and pans and headed up the steps.

Ryosuke was pacing out measurements on the stage floor before placing various pieces of furniture, and he merely waved Kenshin over to the far end of the stage where the hearth had been set up. It didn’t take long to unpack the box and place the items in the proper spot, so Kenshin headed back for more. Soon the two of them had nearly everything in place. As Ryosuke stood to survey the results, he said, "So, Himura-san, are you sorry you agreed to be an actor for us?"

"Sorry?" Kenshin repeated. A small smile crept onto his face. "Actually, it’s been somewhat…enjoyable."

"You sound surprised, although considering the stage fright you had the other day, maybe you are surprised. I must say you overcame it beautifully."

Kenshin chuckled. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Joining up with this family seemed to be having all sorts of effects on him.

"It was a new experience for this one to have so many people staring at him," he said truthfully. So was having people laugh at him instead of cower in fear, but he couldn’t tell that to Ryosuke. "Anyway, sessha did want to avoid your cure for stage fright."

"My cure?" Ryosuke looked stumped. "Oh, yes, you mean that little goose in the posterior! Works every time!" he laughed. "Actually, Himura-san, you have the makings of a good actor, you know that? You might want to consider becoming an apprentice at our school when we get back to Kagoshima. I doubt your voice would be low enough to do men’s roles, but you could certainly specialize in onnagata roles."

Kenshin choked. What the hell was wrong with his voice? "Sessha’s no actor," he said in as deep a tone as he could muster.

Ryosuke fixed him with a stare. "Oh, come on, Himura-san—you’ve been acting the whole time you’ve been with us. You know you’re no run-of-the-mill rurouni, not with the talent you’ve got with a sword, yet you were able to convince even my father that that’s all you were. If that’s not acting talent, then I’ll eat my hat. And then there’s the way you carry yourself—that kind of stage grace takes years to teach, but you’ve already got it down pat. Practically all you need is to learn the cadences of kabuki dialogue and you’ve got it made."

Baiko’s advice echoed in Kenshin’s mind, stopping him from telling Ryosuke the real reason he couldn’t consider this strange idea. Instead, he said the only thing he could think of. "Oro?"

"No, I’m serious, Himura-san. Join us! You have no other job prospects, do you? What have you got to lose?"

Kenshin thought fast. What could he say that wouldn’t give away his need to leave today? "Sessha could never afford the lessons," he finally managed.

"But once you collect your reward you could," Ryosuke countered. "Anyway, you could pay for it by teaching us your sword technique. It’s like we said yesterday after you fought the yakuza, if we could do on stage what we saw you do, our audiences would go wild!"

Getting around this one was going to be a lot more difficult. "There is much to commend your own style, Kogen Itto-ryu," Kenshin tried. "It, too, has many leaps and flourishes in the advanced kata."

"But nothing like what you do. And the fact that it’s Sengoku—that’s the period a lot of our plays are set in. It’s perfect!"

An abrupt silence descended, and Ryosuke suddenly felt an almost electric tension fill the air.

"The style you wish to learn is too deadly," Kenshin responded in a voice so cold that it stopped Ryosuke in his tracks. "It has no place in this new era of peace. Sessha will not teach it to anyone, ever. Those secrets will go with me to my grave." Then he turned to leave the stage.

The voice seemed so out of character for the Kenshin Ryosuke knew that, for a moment, he just stood and stared as Kenshin walked away. "Himura-san, wait!" he finally called out, but Kenshin had already disappeared through the door. "Damn," he muttered to himself. "I was hoping to ask if his technique could stand up to a hitokiri. Oh, well, it’s only a rumor that one’s in town anyway…."

He was getting lazy, that’s what it was, Kenshin thought as he emerged once again into the room backstage. These people had made him feel so comfortable, so welcome, that he had begun to let down his barriers. If he had kept himself alert to the surrounding ki, he berated himself, he would have realized in advance that something was up, that Ryosuke would get too close to the truth of the rurouni, that Ryosuke would ask to learn what he would never teach. He made sure now that his face betrayed nothing, not happiness, not curiosity, certainly not the tension he was feeling, as he wove his way through the maze of people, props, and costumes towards the door leading outside. "Himura-san!" he heard Ikuko call out as he swept past, but he kept on going, not daring to interact with anyone until he had a chance to sort things out.

The wagon was not far off behind the theater, and he found refuge against its far side, where no one would see him. He leaned against a wheel and closed his eyes, then sank slowly to the ground and put his head in his hands. How naïve he was to ever think he could stay very long with this family. His life had been too violent, too blood-soaked—too different. He envied their seemingly carefree existence, where swordfights were something to choreograph for entertainment, where revenge might take the form of leaving the family and moving to Kyoto. He could never have fit in, not with his past. He remembered that first day when Ikuko had innocently tried to remove his sword, how without even thinking he had instinctively grabbed her wrist as if she were an enemy. He remembered how he had scared young Bunjiro with his sudden lecture on what it really meant to kill. Most of all, he remembered the look on Bunjiro’s face yesterday when the boy saw the broken bodies of the yakuza Kenshin had fought. Baiko was right, he was damaged goods, and even now, after three years of wandering, after three years of trying to forget what he had been, he still couldn’t be sure he could control the instincts of the hitokiri that still resided within him.

He stood up now, his mind more composed though certainly not calm, and took stock of the auras emanating from the theater. He had become sufficiently familiar with this family to be able to pick out at least the ki of the men. Nothing special there, he noted, except for a strange something—was it a sense of triumph?—coming from Orinosuke. Perhaps he had won his fight with his father, Kenshin thought, but as he focused further on it, he recognized it as the sensation of someone ready to spring a trap. There was only one trap Kenshin was aware of where Orinosuke was concerned, and that had to do with Kenshin’s identity. Baiko had assured him that the ceremonial guards Daisuke had hired as extras had no opportunity to tell anyone what they knew. What if Baiko was wrong?

Then he sensed someone coming from the back of the theater, one of the boys. He stepped around the corner of the wagon to find Bunjiro, now dressed in his acrobat costume, searching the area. "Kenshin-san?" the boy called out. "Where are you?" When he saw Kenshin, he came running, but he tripped on a protruding tree root just as got close. He put out his arms to brace his fall but ended up slamming his hand into Kenshin’s injured shoulder instead. Kenshin easily caught him and steadied him, but not before he had involuntarily let out a hiss of pain.

"Oh, no, Kenshin-san, I’ve hurt you!" Bunjiro apologized as he regained his balance. "Are you okay? Grandmother sent me out to see if anything was wrong."

Kenshin forced the vacant smile on his face. "No, no, sessha is fine," he assured the boy, though he had a feeling he wasn’t, "just surprised. Is it time to do this one’s make-up?"

Bunjiro wasn’t listening, however; he was staring at Kenshin’s shoulder. Kenshin followed his eyes and saw a small spot of blood appear on his gi. As he suspected, the force of Bunjiro’s hand had opened his wound.

"Oh, Kenshin-san, I’m so sorry, so sorry," Bunjiro began to babble. "Grandmother will kill me when she finds out…."

Kenshin took the boy by the shoulders and said reassuringly, "It’s fine, Bunjiro-san, nothing to worry about. Sessha has endured much worse. If you could just tell your grandmother that sessha will be a few minutes—she wouldn’t be too happy if this one got blood on one of her costumes."

Bunjiro managed a small smile, then said, "Hai," and ran off.

Kenshin, meanwhile, peeked under his gi and was relieved to see that the wound was only leaking, not gushing. He hadn’t thought to bring any extra bandages with him when he left the inn this morning, although he had slipped a little box of healing ointment into his sleeve pocket just in case. If he was lucky, that would be enough to stop the bleeding quickly, before too much of the bandage became unusable. So he slipped into the wagon and pulled his gi down off his shoulders. As he began to unwrap the cloth holding the bandage, he heard the wind pick up outside and felt a chill creep into the air. Even here in warm Miyazaki, winter was obviously not far off. He’d definitely need to buy that warm haori sooner rather than later, he thought absently.

With the wound now exposed, he could see that it was only luck that had prevented more blood from reaching the bandage. The original wound from the shuriken had been fairly minor, but the cut Baiko had made with his sword to get rid of the poison had made the wound somewhat deep. He cursed softly under his breath, then grabbed a handful of the cloth and pressed it hard against his shoulder. He didn’t want to call any more attention to himself than was absolutely necessary, but if the wound didn’t stop bleeding pretty quickly, that’s exactly what would happen. He kicked himself for not bringing a packet of styptic powder with him, but then who would have thought something like this would happen?

He was just removing the cloth to check the progress of the clotting when Ikuko climbed into the wagon. He moved to cover the wound again, but she stopped him so she could take a look. "Tsk, tsk," she muttered. "I swear, that boy…. "

"It wasn’t Bunjiro-san’s fault, Ikuko-dono—he tripped and fell, that’s all." He placed the cloth back over the wound. "Sessha’s fine, really."

Ikuko started rooting around in some of the boxes and returned holding two large pieces of cloth. "Dish towels," she said as she started tearing one into strips. "They’re clean, we can replace them, they’ll make suitable bandages, don’t you think? Now, you just let go of that and let me take care of things, hmm?"

Kenshin couldn’t help but smile as he gave himself over to Ikuko’s care. She was all business as she poured some water into a bowl, dipped the end of one of the towels into the water, and started cleaning around the wound. "Seems like I was doing this just yesterday," she said with a smirk.

Kenshin looked at her in mild surprise. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might have been the one who bandaged him up originally. Somehow he had just assumed it was Baiko. "Surprised?" she chuckled. "When you’re the mother of three scrappy boys and the grandmother of four more, you get pretty proficient at this kind of thing."

In no time, Kenshin’s wound was clean and already forming a new scab. He handed her the little box of ointment and let her smear it on. Amazing how much gentler she was at dealing with wounds than the rough army doctors he was used to.

"There," she said with satisfaction. "All done. Now, you sit here and rest awhile. I’ve got to finish altering that costume for Bunjiro-chan. Third Son has worked him into his little entre’acte so Bunjiro-chan push the wheelchair for him. I’ll be back to do your make-up as soon as I’m done."

"You mean sessha doesn’t have to… won’t be going backstage for that?" Kenshin asked as she turned to leave. That meant he wouldn’t have to stare at those heads while she was painting his face, thank goodness!

She patted him gently on the back. "No, we’ll do it here," she replied. "I knew you’d be uncomfortable with so many people milling about." Then she left.

How did she know, Kenshin wondered? No doubt about it, he was going to miss her.

He took his gi off now and dipped the bloody spot in the bowl of water to wash it off. As he scrubbed, he idly looked around the wagon and spied, in the corner, the writing box he had seen Orinosuke use earlier that morning. He thought quickly—Ikuko would be sewing, everyone else was involved with preparations for the performance. This was the perfect opportunity to write that letter he would need to deliver to the Satsuma guard who was seeking revenge against him. He hastily blotted the water from his gi and put it back on, then opened the box, took a few drops of the water to wet the inkstone and brush, then pulled a small sheet of paper from the little drawer at the bottom of the box. He knew he didn’t have much time, so he wrote quickly.

"To the samurai Ozawa," the letter began.
"I am the man you seek, who took the life of your brother at Kinmon no Hen. He died honorably in defense of our emperor. I took no pleasure in taking your brother’s life. My commander ordered and I obeyed, as is required in war. Know that this one has since taken an oath never to kill again and lives now only to atone for the lives lost to his blade. If, knowing this, you still desire to avenge your brother’s death, you will find me at midnight at the end of the path leading from the Miyazaki Jingu shrine to the cliffs.
From the one formerly known as the Hitokiri Battousai."

He shuddered as he wrote that name. If only it could disappear into the dust, like the bones of all those he had killed.

Suddenly he heard the sound of footsteps; it was Ikuko. There was no time to hide what he was doing, so he quickly blew on the ink to dry it and hurriedly started folding up the letter as she entered the wagon. At her look of surprise, he said lamely, "Um, sessha was just writing some reminders for the play." He fumbled for his coin purse and added, "Sessha will pay for the cost of the paper."

She gave him an odd look, then said, "Why, that’s quite conscientious of you, to think of writing yourself some notes." She pushed away the coin he now held out to her. "And no need for that. I didn’t realize you took your acting duties so seriously."

Kenshin quickly put on as innocent a smile as he could muster while surreptitiously sliding the letter into his sleeve pocket. Then he watched uncomfortably as Ikuko gathered the charcoal stick, the white cream, the red lip paint, and the brushes she needed for his makeup. Although she may not have realized, he knew that she was glancing back at him surreptitiously as she did so. He had learned early on that she had a knack for guessing what was going on in his mind—it wasn’t his ki, he knew, because he was always careful to mask it in her presence—and he hoped she couldn’t sense his guilt now. He was relieved, therefore, when she finally said, "Husband will be so impressed when he hears you’ve made notes for yourself."

It was time now for the face painting. Kenshin had only gone through this once before, and although he knew what to expect, he still instinctively jerked back as Ikuko’s hand neared his face. "Now, Himura-san, remember from last time—it’s just my fingers, not a sword," she said. He willed himself to stay still as she started smearing the cold goo over his face and eyelids.

"You know," she continued conversationally in an attempt to put him at ease, "you may want to write some more things down on that list of yours. There are some other things you’ll need to do today after your play, like sign autographs."

Autographs? Kenshin’s eyes went wide, and suddenly Ikuko remembered he had never been to a kabuki theater before.

"Oh, my, no one thought to tell you. Well! Outside the theater there will be stalls selling delicacies and souvenirs and all sorts of whatnots, just like at a festival, and one of those stalls will be selling souvenir fans with pictures of Husband and my sons.After each act, there's always a crowd waiting for them to come out and autograph their fans.Your picture won’t be on them, of course, but people may still want your autograph. ‘Shinosuke the First’ you’ll write—the stage name Husband created for you. Fans with your signature will be real collector’s items someday! So, after your play is done, you’re to go out to the fan stall and sign autographs."

If she hadn’t been holding Kenshin’s head in a vice-like grip, he probably would have stood up to say goodbye right then and there. How was he going to be able to leave right after his performance if he was required to do this? Not only that, how could he be sure the heavy white make-up would hide the distinctive scar on his cheek from people seeing him up close? He kicked himself for refusing to look at himself in a mirror with makeup. "Please, Ikuko-dono, sessha can’t do that," he tried to say, but it came out sounding like "Pthh eeeeeedooooooo seshhh cnnn dooooooo thh."

"Oh, don’t worry about a thing, Himura-san," Ikuko laughed as she guessed at what he was trying to say. "I’ll have Byako-chan go with you. He can hold your hand in case someone tries to propose marriage to you again."

Ikuko still had his head in her grip, but he managed to splutter, "That’s not what I said…." He shook his head free just as her last little remark sank in. "Wait a minute, what was sessha supposed to do when that farmer proposed? You told me never to break the illusion!"

Ikuko roared with laughter. "Oh, Himura-san, you are funny! Yes, you’re not supposed to break the illusion, but heavens, what would you have done if someone tried to pinch your cheek, or even worse, somewhere else?" She laughed even harder at the mental picture that brought up.

She put down the white cream now and took up the charcoal stick and brush. "Let’s put it this way—never break the illusion unless you have no other choice. For instance, there was the time, when Second Son was our onnagata for the day, that a drunken patron tried to get fresh with him. Second Son just smiled sweetly, then shoved his fan right up where it hurts a man the most. Then he walked away as calmly as if nothing had happened. Get the idea?"

Kenshin certainly did, and if he hadn’t had the white make-up on, Ikuko would have noticed that his face was now about as red as his hair. He had no idea being an onnagata could be such a dangerous occupation! Regardless, though, he had to find some way of getting out of this obligation.

Ikuko sensed his unease and assumed it had to do with the perils of being an onnagata, so she said, "I don’t think you’ll have to worry too much about that kind of thing today. What with that rumor going around about a terrible hitokiri being in town, Shimazu-sama’s people are insisting on posting several of their samurai outside the theater doors, so I think everyone will probably be on their very best behavior."

Kenshin went rigid.

"You have heard about that rumor, haven’t you?" she added as she took in his reaction. She had just picked up the brush for the red paint, but she stopped before it touched his lips. It seemed that under the white make-up, all color had just drained from his face. She put her arm down and said, "Frankly, I wouldn’t worry about that rumor, if I were you. They claim it’s the same hitokiri who terrorized Kyoto during the Bakumatsu way back when we still lived there, the one they called the Battousai." She shivered involuntarily. "I don’t mind admitting that those were terrifying days. That hitokiri? People claimed he could appear out of nowhere, then disappear into nowhere just as fast. It did make you afraid to walk the streets."

She shook the memories from her head, not noticing Kenshin’s tense eyes and clenched fists. He knew his actions had scared the populace of Kyoto, but to hear that fear voiced by Ikuko was almost unbearable.

"Anyway," she said as she dipped the brush into the paint, "that was a long time ago and the war is over, so if you ask me, the rumor doesn’t make much sense. Husband agrees—he says it’s all a lot of hooey. First Son, of course, says the rumor’s true and that the hitokiri is in our midst even now, but then he always thinks the worst of everything. I guess, though, that Shimazu-sama can’t afford to take any chances."

Now she started painting Kenshin’s lips, preventing him from saying anything even if he wanted to, which he most certainly didn’t.

"So why here and why now?" she mused, talking for the both of them. "That Battousai may have been a hitokiri, but at least he was our hitokiri—I mean a hitokiri for the patriots—so he’d certainly have no reason to want to kill Shimazu-sama now. Why, the new government respects Shimazu-sama so much that he was one of the first daimyo in all Japan to be made governor of his own domain! So many of the others have been stripped of their lands and forced to move to Tokyo, you know. In fact, the reason he’s dragged us and his whole extended family all the way to Miyazaki is to show the government and the emperor how appreciative he is. You'd think that lovely Shinto shrine in Kagoshima would do, but oh, no, it had to be this dinky little shrine in Miyazaki just because it was supposedly built by the first emperor himself a thousand years ago. So it couldn’t be that the government’s trying to kill him."

She stepped back now to admire her handiwork and at last noticed that the gentle violet eyes she was used to seeing were hard and tense. "You don’t think First Son is right, do you? It just wouldn’t do to have a killing happen during one of our performances…."

Kenshin lowered his eyes and willed his body to relax. "The era of the hitokiri is over," he finally said as calmly as he could, though even to him his voice sounded strained. "Shimazu-sama has nothing to worry about."

He could see her relax at his statement. "I’m glad you think so," she said with some relief as she placed the wig on his head and tightened it. "You’re an experienced swordsman, after all. I knew you’d understand about these things." She reached now for his costume, which lay folded on a bench behind him.

"AAAAH!" she suddenly shouted.

Kenshin instinctively grabbed for his sakabatou and whirled around to protect Ikuko from whatever was threatening her, but he stopped in mid-draw as he stared at the cause of her alarm. His opponent was a toad peeking out from the folds of the costume’s sleeve. The toad took one look at Kenshin and Ikuko and hopped away as fast as it could. Ikuko growled, "Ooooh, that Second Son—this is his doing, I know it! Wait ‘till I get my hands on him…!"

Kenshin’s anxiety was gone in an instant, and he found himself laughing. Ryosuke had done it again, had managed to disarm the tension within him. Through his laughter, he said, "No, Ikuko-dono, a practical joke is called for here, don’t you think?"

An impish smile came across Ikuko’s face. "What did you have in mind, Himura-san? Something dastardly, I hope."

Kenshin thought for a moment, then said, "Are they done dressing yet for the first play?"

Ikuko looked out towards the back door of the theater. She could just hear the men starting their vocal warm-ups. "No, probably not. They’ll finish their voice exercises first. Why?"

Kenshin joined her at the wagon opening and scanned the area. Yes, there it was—an old, gnarled rosebush he remembered seeing as he walked back at lunchtime. "Ikuko-dono, if you could just manage to find a thorn or two from that old rosebush over there and work it into the underside of Ryosuke-san’s wig…."

"Oh, Himura-san, you are devilish, aren’t you! A brilliant idea!" She quickly helped him dress, tied his obi, then left to do the dirty work. Not fifteen minutes later, a howl of pain emanated from the back of the theater, then, "Himura-san! Where are you, you dirty bastard!" An eruption of laughter followed from the rest of the men. Yup, Kenshin thought in satisfaction as he descended from the wagon, Ryosuke will be in just the right mood now to do a comedy.

It was time now to join the others backstage, so he started walking slowly and carefully across the yard towards the theater. He still wasn’t completely comfortable in the high geta he had to wear, and he was mindful that there was a tree root out there waiting to trip him, as it had Bunjiro. So, it was with great relief that he reached the theater door without incident. After his experience wearing these god-forsaken things, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind about the superiority of zori over geta where a swordsman was concerned!

The backstage room was still bustling and crowded, so he headed for the nearest free bench to sit and wait. The men, he noted, were all in costume now, but still there were many men’s costumes hanging on the makeshift clothesline. Six of them looked like priests’ robes and hats; six looked like soldiers’ gi. There were crests on the gi, but whose he could not tell. He knew that Daisuke and Ryosuke had to change costumes between his own play and Kanjincho; maybe they, and perhaps Orinosuke as well, had further changes to make for the act he had never seen. But twelve clothing changes?

Then it dawned on him. Twelve costumes—twelve extras. Those must be for the twelve men drawn from the governor’s ceremonial guard. He knew, of course, that they would be here, but he hadn’t really given much thought to where they’d be. Of course they’d be backstage, you idiot, he thought to himself, and here he was weaponless and exposed for all to see. But what would they see? He had no idea, for he had assiduously avoided all mirrors after that first quick glimpse of himself in the wig. He berated himself once again for not looking, for how else would he know if he was unrecognizable or not?

Noriko came and sat in the empty space next to him and began to tune her shamisen. Kenshin nodded to her, being careful not to dip his head too far for fear of losing his wig. Noriko smiled and nodded back, saying, "You look quite realistic, Himura-sama. Mother-in-law did an excellent job."

Himura-sama? Oh, no, not again. Noriko had started calling him that after the fight with the yakuza, and it made him uncomfortable. "Please, just plain Himura-san," he said softly.

She bowed her head and said, "As you wish." She picked out a few notes on her instrument, then said, "Are you more comfortable now with being an onnagata? It must be difficult when you’re not born to it."

Kenshin smiled. "Sessha hasn’t had the courage to see himself yet."

Noriko laughed quietly. "Mother-in-law mentioned something about that. Well, would you like to see yourself now?"

She walked behind the portable screen that held her dancing costume and returned with a large hand mirror. Kenshin closed his eyes tight, put the mirror before his face, then opened his eyes. What he saw was a stranger—a stranger with his eyes, but a stranger nonetheless. He got the same sense of unreality that he had the first time, but this time he forced himself to keep looking, for there was one aspect of the face in the mirror that worried him. He looked now at his left cheek. It was as he feared—despite the heavy white cream, he could still make out the edges of his distinctive scar. Still, one had to look very closely to notice. "It doesn’t look like me at all, does it," he said finally.

Noriko smiled and said gently, "No Himura-san, it doesn’t look like you at all. I hope you’re not embarrassed…."

"Oh, no—not embarrassed!" Kenshin said quickly. "Well, except when that farmer thought I really was a woman," he added as an afterthought.

Noriko laughed again and plucked a few more notes on her shamisen. "I know what you mean. Husband’s been proposed to many times. It’s rather funny, really." She stood now and said, "Well, it’s time for me to go. Good luck, Himura-san. I know that whatever you do onstage, it will be a credit to our family, and for that we are all most grateful." Then she bowed and took her leave.

Kenshin watched her join the other women going up the steps to the stage. Noriko had been the first to make him feel at home with this family, and for that he would be forever grateful. Ennosuke, he thought to himself, was a lucky man to have her.

Now there was nothing to do but sit and wait, and he began to ponder the problem of when and how he could disappear. Leaving right after his performance was no longer an option. Perhaps once the big drama started? He certainly couldn’t wait much longer than that. His thoughts, however, were soon interrupted by music; the women had started to play, and the audience, he guessed, were probably coming in to seat themselves. He found the music relaxing, so he closed his eyes briefly to center himself for the play.

Seconds later, however, his eyes flew open as he sensed the approach of swordsmen’s ki. He quickly looked towards the back door just in time to see twelve of the governor’s ceremonial guards enter the room. He instinctively stood up and reached for the hilt of his absent sakabatou, but caught himself just in time to turn the movement into a deep bow. That’s when he realized that none of them had even noticed him. Of course, he thought; he was a woman now, beneath the regard of these men. Still, when he sat back down, it was at the farthest end of the bench, and he redoubled his efforts at masking his ki.

Daisuke and Orinosuke met the guards at the door and started giving out instructions. This gave Kenshin the opportunity to discreetly look them over. It took only a moment to assure himself that none of these men had been present at that meeting three years ago between Shimazu’s representative and Katsura, for whom Kenshin had acted as bodyguard. At least that was one stroke of good luck, he thought. On the other hand, he noted that every one of these men had the bearing and ki of a top swordsman. These men would not be easy to fool. He wondered which was the one seeking him out for revenge. It was impossible to tell. Daisuke now started gesticulating towards the costumes and then the door, and Kenshin heard him say something about coming backstage after the first play. Then the guards left.

Not all of them went very far. A group of them stopped outside the building to talk, just close enough to where Kenshin was sitting that he could hear them through the wall. He listened as they jabbered on about their exploits in the pleasure quarters the night before and about being stuck with sentry duty later and other mundane soldiers’ chatter. It was all so unremarkable that he slowly let himself relax just a bit. Then he heard a remark about the strange woman sitting in the backstage room. He suddenly perked up his ears again.

"You didn’t notice her?" he could hear one of the guards saying. "Pretty little thing, but she’s got no ki. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?"

He heard some pushing and shoving and laughing. "Yukio-kun, don’t you know that women don’t have a ki? They just float along waiting for us to come and fulfill them!"

More laughter. Then the first man said, "If you were married, you wouldn’t say that. And anyway, there’s something else not quite right about her, too. I just can’t put my finger on it. "

Another hoot. "What, that she didn’t fall all over you the moment you walked in? That’s because she’s not a real woman, you idiot—that’s their onnagata!" Gales of laughter followed this statement.

"You sure? He looks awfully delicate for a guy, but that would explain a lot."

"You better watch what you say, Yukio-kun," said another voice in mock seriousness. "After all, these are the actors who supposedly took out that whole gang of samurai and ninja bandits!"

More laughter. "Maybe he did it with his fan!" laughed yet another voice.

"I still say it’s not normal for there to be no ki," the one named Yukio insisted, "and it’s giving me the creeps."

Kenshin thankfully heard them walk away now. "Well," he heard a voice laugh, "maybe he’s trying to hide himself from the Hitokiri Battousai!"

"Shush, Haru-kun—if they hear you mention that rumor, you’ll get us all in trouble!" Then the voices were gone.

Pretty little thing? Awfully delicate? Kenshin didn’t know whether to be insulted or relieved. Perhaps the latter. After all, no one looking for the Hitokiri Battousai would suspect a pretty and delicate-looking woman. He briefly gave thought to staying in costume when he left, but then discarded the notion. Not only would he not be able to carry his sakabatou unobtrusively, but he would never forgive himself for what would, in effect, be stealing the costume. No, he would have to be satisfied with the amount of camouflage the costume afforded him while he was at the theater. After that, he would just have to rely on his wits, as always.

He watched now as the four boys, who had been practicing their juggling, headed for the stage door. It was time for their performance; his own play would be starting right after. In fact, Ryosuke was walking over to him right now, probably to tell him that, so Kenshin quickly made a decision—he would fulfill the obligation to sign autographs, then immediately get out of costume, pick up his travel bag at the inn, and disappear. He’d need to drop off his letter for the guard Ozawa, of course, then find a place to hide himself until midnight, but that wouldn’t be too difficult, he figured. He stood now as Ryosuke reached him. "Time to go?" he asked as if nothing more were on his mind.

Kenshin noticed an evil gleam in Ryosuke’s eye. "Not quite, Himura-san. I just wanted you to know that I will be paying you back for that practical joke once we’re on stage."

So, Ryosuke was gearing up to tease him, was he? Kenshin smiled. It appeared that despite everything, despite his past coming up to haunt him yet again, at least he would get one thing he wished for—he would certainly be enjoying this performance. Minutes later, Daisuke came forward and swept them both before him towards the stage door. The boys were in the midst of their act, and it was time to wait in the wings.

Only Orinosuke and Ennosuke were left in the room now, along with Ennosuke’s daughter Nomi, who was enjoying a horsey ride on her father’s good knee. Orinosuke strode over and removed her, then leaned over to his brother’s ear and said, "You realize it’s time someone else took over leadership of this family."

Ennosuke lifted Nomi back onto his knee and sighed, "Not this again. Just let it drop. Father’s given you permission to leave. Isn’t that enough?"

Orinosuke once again removed Nomi from Ennosuke’s knee and curtly said, "Go play somewhere else." Then, turning back to his brother, he said, "It’s not just his decision not to return to Kyoto, though you’d think you’d care enough about your own career to see what a bad decision that is. And it’s not just his decision to drag us on this God-forsaken trip, though if he had at least used a wagon made for Satsuma roads, you wouldn’t be sitting here with that cast on your leg. But his decision to take on that so-called rurouni? The man’s a killer, I tell you, and that decision has put all our lives in danger—the worst in a long string of bad decisions."

Ennosuke grabbed his crutches and stood now to face his brother. "That man, as you call him, saved my life, or have you forgotten?" he said angrily. "And you may fancy yourself an accomplished swordsman, but even you could not have defeated those ninjas yesterday. No, I think Father’s doing just fine, and I support every decision he’s made—even the one to stay in Kagoshima."

He started walking over to where Nomi was sitting on the floor, looking for all the world like she was about to burst into tears, but Orinosuke grabbed his shoulder to stop him. "And what if I prove I’m right? What if I prove the rurouni’s not just any killer, but the most infamous and dangerous killer in all of Japan?"

Ennosuke turned to look at his brother. "You do that. You go prove that. Then I’ll think about it." He shook his shoulder loose and went to comfort his daughter.

"Tonight," Orinosuke called after him. "I’ll have all the proof you want tonight. Support me then and we’ll finally get the kind of leadership this family deserves!"

Ennosuke didn’t even bother answering. Orinosuke glared after him, then disgustedly headed for the stage wings himself, for it was his job to announce the beginning of Kenshin’s play.

Japanese Terms:

Onnagata: in kabuki, a male actor who plays a woman.
Yakuza: criminal gang.
Shimazu-sama: Lord Shimazu, formerly the daimyo (feudal lord) of Satsuma, now the governor under the new government.
Hashi: Japanese word for chopsticks.
Sengoku: the period of continuous warfare in the 1500s that preceded the Tokugawa Shogunate.
Shuriken: star-shaped weapon favored by ninjas, often tipped with poison.
Haori: warm overcoat.
Kinmon no Hen: the ill-fated Chousu attack on the Imperial Palace in July 1864.
Geta: wooden sandals.
Bakumatsu: Japanese civil war.
Daimyo: feudal lord. The rank was abolished by the new government and replaced with governors.
Zori: the flexible Japanese sandal.
Shamisen: a traditional Japanese stringed instrument.

Author’s Note: As many of you know, I managed to break my hand right before Thanksgiving and was unable to use a keyboard until just before Christmas, hence the long delay. Actually, it’s all Kenshin’s fault. Turns out he has been enjoying himself too much with the Daisuke family and just didn’t want to leave. How else to explain the rash of hand-related injuries that have occurred while writing this story (remember the bee sting to the finger I got while writing chapter 9?)!

So, would Kenshin really try to justify a killing in his letter to Ozawa by saying he did what he was ordered? I figure he’s heard the stories that the Hitokiri Battousai lived for blood and loved to kill, and he would want to set the record straight. Maybe, maybe not, but since it’s my story, I get to decide!

Next chapter: The end. Yes, it will definitely be the final chapter. Kenshin will endure the many hardships of being an onnagata, not to mention Ryosuke’s shenanigans, but will he manage to disappear before Orinosuke finds his proof?

Thanks to all our reviewers for your wonderful comments and suggestions. Even after this many chapters and this many stories, I still hold my breath every time I see that Reviewer Alert in my inbox. I write for you, so the least I can do is let the world see all your names: Calger 459, Haku Baikou, Bishounen Hunter, BakaBokken, Hitokiri oro-chan, PraiseDivineMercy, Hitokiri of the Bloodless Moon, Maeve Riannon, beriath, koe 760, Shimizu Hitomi, Cattibrie393, Ayumi Ikari, Lucrecia Le Vrai, Audi Daudi, Miranda Crystal-Bearer, Wistful-Eyes, ESP, Arcueid, Corran Nackatori, Marissa Willems, Hitokiri-san.,Toilet Marauder, TawnyBaka, AmunRa, MisaoShiru, November Dusk, zig-zag, Cetsunai, dark sapphire, Steffel, Baru-chan, iceblazingpheonix, wyrd, curiosicat, sasha, Ayashi1, LadyBattousai456, Neko Oni-chan, laial, audra no baka, tatk1, lilmatchgirl007, De Lazy Lime, Melissa, daniel-gudman, Kaloo, Terry McElrath, Methodic Madness, Darkening Dreams, anime kirei, chibi rurouni, Romm, Darkening Dreams, Silenced Doves, Mara Roberts, lotus-chan, Tazzy, KQL Moony, Sasha, Lady Adania Ebonsong, tomboy101, louiseoblique, Maldoror1, moeru himura, Silver Warrior, Ligar Zero X, lolo popki, nightcrawler, Night-Owl 123, Hitokiri Battousai214, and Amant de Mort. Wow, I just realized—several of you are wonderful authors yourselves. Way to go!

Co-Conspirator’s Note: It only took Co-C. two weeks but she’s finally given her go-ahead (yes, this chapter has been ready for two weeks!). Thank you, Rabid Conspirator Update Society, for helping me get her moving on this! Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time to write a note—too much homework. She’ll be back next time, I hope!
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