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An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 11

by Conspirator ::: 07.May.2005

Demons Out, Fortune In was a simple play. It’s Setsubun time, the time when homeowners seek to cast evil out of their homes and bring in good fortune. A widow prepares the talismen for warding off demons—a sardine head on a holly branch and roasted soybeans—and asks an exorcist to remove all evil from her home. Then a demon disguised as a traveler appears and convinces her to let him in by making beautiful kimono for her with his magic mallet. She becomes greedy, gets the demon drunk, and tries to steal the magic mallet. When she tries to remove the demon’s own kimono, she realizes what he is and pelts him with the roasted soybeans, thus driving him out. It was really from the comic kyogen tradition, not from kabuki, but it had become a staple of the Daisuke family’s repertoire for generations because of its broad slapstick appeal.

Kenshin listened as Orinosuke announced the play and its performers to the audience, and as with the last time, he joined Daisuke and Ryosuke in closing his eyes to prepare himself mentally. Last time, he had prayed merely that he survive the ordeal of appearing on stage. This time, he prayed that he survive whatever Ryosuke might throw at him. He knew from experience now that Ryosuke would try ad-libbing just to keep him on his toes (and, he suspected, to help keep him from worrying about the audience), but Ryosuke’s promise to repay Kenshin for the practical joke earlier that afternoon suggested that he was in for more than just ad-libbing. He quickly ran through the highlights of the play’s action. There really wasn’t much to it—how much mayhem could Ryosuke really do? He opened his eyes as he reached his conclusion: plenty.

So it was with a wary eye and all his sharpened senses on alert that Kenshin started the long walk down the ramp to begin the play. Well, the ramp didn't give way—so far so good. He continued walking to the far end of the stage, where he was to light an altar candle with a match. He heard Daisuke, as the wandering exorcist, begin to tell the audience what was happening. On cue, Kenshin squatted down to pick up one of the long matches, but when he tried to light it, it wouldn’t take. He reached for the second, and as he did, he realized that someone (and he knew exactly who) had soaked them both in water so they wouldn’t ignite. There was only one match left, and he had to get this candle lit. He was still wearing his gi under his costume, and he was beginning to think he might have to reach into his sleeve pocket for a flint, but the third match seemed to be dry, so he gave it a try. As soon as he put it into the lantern, it burst into a huge flame, sending Kenshin reeling backwards onto his rear. There was, he noticed as he fell, the distinct smell of burning sake in the air. Someone (and he knew exactly who) had tampered with this match. The audience laughed.

The next action was to take the sardine head on the holly branch and place it outside the doorway of the little house, thus setting up the meeting with Daisuike, the exorcist. No problem there, although Kenshin cringed slightly when Daisuke ad-libbed something about this widow being in particular need of some good luck. Then Daisuke handed Kenshin the box of roasted soybeans and added, “Absolutely no demons in these beans.” Kenshin breathed a sigh of relief. All he needed at the end of the show was to find something outrageous in the roasted beans!

After a bit more stage business, it was time for Ryosuke as the demon to make his appearance, and at the knock at the door that signaled his entrance, Kenshin immediately steeled himself for the worst. He went to the door and screamed as he should when he saw the demon, but all the while he was casting out his senses trying to figure out if Ryosuke had something more up his sleeve. Surprisingly, Ryosuke did nothing unusual as he produced the kimono that convinces the widow to let him in the house. Kenshin briefly entertained the idea that maybe the little joke with the matches was all Ryosuke would attempt, but a sixth sense told him not to count on it.

Now it was time for the demon to produce three kimono from his magic mallet. The first one was supposed to be very plain, as Daisuke explained in his narration, but when Ryosuke produced the kimono from the magic mallet, everyone could see that it was a kimono fit for an empress—deep blue with intricately embroidered silver and red dragons and birds. Kenshin, as the play required, had to act as if it were nothing but a rag. The audience tittered. Ryosuke then produced the second kimono, which Daisuke, of course, described as being more beautiful than the first, but although it was a lovely light green with beautiful cherry blossoms embroidered on it, it was clearly no match for the first. Kenshin, of course, had to act as if this surpassed the first kimono. The audience was catching on to the joke. Now, as Daisuke narrated, Ryosuke’s demon was to produce the most beautiful kimono of all. Daisuke could barely contain himself for he, like the audience, knew what would happen next. The third kimono was as plain as plain could be, and Kenshin, of course, was required to act as if it were the most beautiful kimono in the world. The audience roared with laughter. Ryosuke looked so self-satisfied at Kenshin’s discomfort that Kenshin was tempted to take his fan and stick it where Ikuko had suggested in her tips to ward off unruly admirers.

Next, Kenshin’s widow was to offer the demon sake in the hopes of getting him drunk. Maybe it was Kenshin’s senses that warned him or maybe it was having lived so long with a prankster like Hiko, but somehow he knew that danger lay ahead. Sure enough, after setting out the cups and turning around to get the sake bottle, he heard a chuckle come up from the audience. From the corner of his eye he saw Ryosuke mugging to the audience and placing something in Kenshin’s cup. Kenshin didn’t even have to look—he knew it would be wasabi powder. Sure enough, when he went to drink from his cup, there was a burn hot enough to light up a city. He’d be damned if he’d give Ryosuke the satisfaction of a reaction, so he forced himself to act as if nothing had happened. At Ryosuke’s surprised look, Kenshin merely smiled and bowed politely, as any woman would do to a guest.

Now Ryosuke was supposed to turn around to grab a second bottle of sake, and as he did, Kenshin quickly switched cups, then watched with supreme satisfaction as Ryosuke took a huge sip and gagged. The audience was practically in tears. And so the play spun out to its end, with Kenshin giving as good as he got, and the climactic bean fight having all the passion and energy of an extremely enthusiastic food fight. As the demon withdrew in a final hail of beans, the audience was shouting and applauding wildly.

“By the gods, Second Son, you were in fine form this afternoon!” laughed Daisuke as Kenshin and Ryosuke regrouped behind the curtain before taking their bows.

“Why, thank you, Father!” a panting and smiling Ryosuke returned. He was still huffing from the exertion of the final scene. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed myself quite so much! Eh, Himura-san?” and he slapped Kenshin heartily on the back. “Pretty funny switching those sake cups!”

Kenshin just smiled as Daisuke and Ryosuke each took a hand and led him out with them to take their bows on the ramp Baiko had built. He was astonished to find the audience reaching and grabbing for them to shake their hands or touch their clothes, and he pulled back instictively. Ryosuke pushed him farther forward. “Just ignore them,” he whispered loudly in Kenshin’s ear as he basked in the adulation.

Daisuke, however, did stop for one patron, an obviously high-born samurai bearing a note with a seal. Unobtrusively, while bowing to the rest of the audience, Daisuke took the note and secreted it inside the front of his costume. Then he led Kenshin and Ryosuke back behind the curtain. Once there, he quickly read the note, held it aloft, and said, “The governorwants to meet us out back. I believe we’re a hit! You, too, Himura-san,” he added as he saw Kenshin trying to escape to the backstage room. “He’ll expect to see you, too, you know.”

Kenshin stopped in mid-step. Meet the governor? Shimazu Hisamitsu? The man had been one of the leading daimyo of the revolution, and as such was well aware of who and what the Hitokiri Battousai was. Despite the camouflage afforded by his costume and makeup, he was all too aware that if one looked long and hard enough, one could just make out the shape of an unusual scar on his left cheek. He had to get out of this. “Shouldn’t sessha go sign autographs?” he finally managed to ask.

Ryosuke laughed and pounded him on the back again. “Himura-san, no one gives up an audience with a governor, especially the one who showers favors upon us! You’ve probably never met a daimyo before, but really, it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Actually, Kenshin had met daimyo before, though the meetings were necessarily brief—they had all been brought about by little black envelopes. He pushed the thought from his mind and reluctantly allowed himself to be herded out to the courtyard behind the theater to await the arrival of the great man himself.

The yard behind the theater was quite large and was surrounded on all sides by a high wall, the better to discourage curious fans. The only way in was either through the door of the backstage room or through the one gate leading to the front courtyard. That gate now opened to reveal a large retinue of people. First came six ceremonial guards, who swept swiftly in and took up defensive posts along the three sides of the wall; Kenshin guessed it was protection prompted by the rumor of the Hitokiri Battousai. Next came two more ceremonial guards, who ushered in the governor’s wife and her three ladies-in-waiting. Then came three more ceremonial guards surrounding the man who clearly was the governor, along with three of his retainers. Behind them were the twelve guards who were to be extras in the performance, and as soon as they entered, they immediately headed for the backstage door.

Kenshin stepped back behind Daisuke as the group flooded in, quickly scanning the faces of the guards for any he might recognize. He recognized none of the first group and none of the second group, but as the governor’s own personal bodyguards filed in, he caught his breath—one of them had been at that meeting five years earlier at which Kenshin had acted as Katsura’s bodyguard. For just an instant, Kenshin’s ki flashed before he could bring it under control again, and the bodyguard sensed it. The man suddenly tensed and started searching the courtyard with his eyes for the source of the flare, but finding none, he returned to stare stony-faced at the group before him. Kenshin could tell, however, that the man was now on alert. There could be no more slip-ups. He only hoped that this man, unlike the guards he had overheard earlier, would not be bothered by his apparent lack of ki.

The governor came forward now and said, “Daisuke, my deepest appreciation to you and your family for undertaking this arduous trip on our behalf. My secretary has told me of the unfortunate accident that befell your son Ennosuke. It pains me that this misfortune occurred on our account.”

Daisuke bowed very formally and said, “Please, there’s no need to apologize. In fact, thanks to a gaijingadget called a wheelchair that a doctor has lent us, Ennosuke is well enough to perform one of his most celebrated pieces, The Medicine Seller."

“That is excellent to hear,” Shimazu responded. “My wife, as you know, is the one who requested Demons Out, Fortune In. She specifically hoped to see Ennosuke in the role of the Widow, so she was very disappointed when she heard he would not be appearing. She does seem quite taken, however, with this Shinosuke who replaced him. Is he a grandson?”

Kenshin bowed low as Shimazu made his remarks, not so much out of necessity as out of an intense desire to avoid the man’s close scrutiny, for now Shimazu was staring right at him.

“Ah, you enjoyed Shinosuke, did you?” laughed Daisuke. He reached back and pulled Kenshin forward. “An apprentice, Shimazu-sama, and a very talented one at that!”

Kenshin bowed some more, but Daisuke pulled him up. “That’s enough,” Daisuke whispered roughly in his ear. Kenshin plastered a vacant smile on his face instead.

There was a rustle of noise now from the women. “Oh, yes,” Shimazu said. “My wife wishes to request your autographs on her fan.”

Immediately, one of his retainers snapped his fingers, and a lady-in-waiting came forward with a souvenir fan. Then the governor’s personal secretary produced a vial of ink, a brush, and a board on which to write. Daisuke immediately took the implements and began to sign the fan, as did Ryosuke. As they did, Kenshin discreetly backed up, bowed, and started heading for the backstage room, but Daisuke caught him and said, “Shinosuke, I’m sure they’d like your signature as well. Isn’t that right, Shimazu-sama?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Shimazu replied with an indulgent smile. His wife and her ladies-in-waiting all nodded in agreement.

Ryosuke handed the board over to Kenshin. He took the brush, but then hesitated. He hadn’t thought to ask Ikuko what kanji to use for his stage name, although he did remember that it was supposed to be a combination of the last part of his own name and theirs. He glanced at Daisuke’s and Ryosuke’s signatures, then slowly began writing, painfully aware of how childish his signature looked compared to their flamboyant ones. Then he handed the board to Daisuke, who handed it to the lady-in-waiting.

With this piece of business accomplished, Shimazu turned to Daisuke and said, “Your presence today in Miyazaki confirms your allegiance to us and assures us that our confidence in you and your family is not misplaced. I know this trip has been a hardship, but our request for your presence is a sign of how important it has been to our political fortunes to have your theater in Kagoshima. Satsuma was in the forefront of western learning and technology longbefore the revolution, but until we could establish ourselves in the forefront of the traditional arts as well, no one up north paid us much attention. Your stature in the world of culture has helped establish Kagoshima as a cultural center in the eyes of the rest of Japan. For this, you have earned our undying gratitude. If there is any way we can show our appreciation, you have only to let us know.”

“My Lord, why, I don’t know what to say,” Daisuke sputtered. It was rare to find him at a loss for words, but that’s what he was.

The lady-in-waiting took advantage of his speechlessness to whisper something to the secretary, who spoke quietly to the governor. With a laugh, Shimazu said, “I am ordered to ask whether the incomparable Orinosuke might be available for a signature, as well as young Ennosuke himself.”

“Of course!” Daisuke answered, his chest swelling with pride. Then, turning to Kenshin he said, “Go backstage and get them, would you? Then go out there and sign those autographs!”

Kenshin bowed and hurried away. Frankly, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. While all this had been going on, he could sense an intense unease in the bodyguard he had recognized, and while he was signing the fan, he could tell the man was staring at him. Clearly, the man had noticed his lack of ki and was trying to figure out why. Even as he walked through the backstage door, he could feel the man’s eyes on his back. Of course, backstage now were the twelve ceremonial guards who were to be extras in the play, and immediately Kenshin felt the eyes of the one man who had noticed his lack of ki earlier that afternoon. He just couldn’t win.

“Kenshin-san, Kenshin-san!” he heard someone shout.

It was Byako calling to him from the stage door. The boy was supposed to escort him out front and stay with him while he signed autographs. The stage door seemed like just the right place to be at the moment—far away from prying eyes. He quickly clacked his way over in his noisy high geta and went through to the stage wings, pulling Byako along with him as he did. How covenient, he thought—he was now safely out of sight. Even better, he could now ask Byako to find Orinosuke for him, for the last thing he wanted to do right now was to talk to someone as angry at him as Orinosuke seemed to be. So, he plastered a smile on his face and said, “The governor wishes the autographs of your father and Ennosuke-san. Could you find them and let them know?”

“The governor?” the boy repeated reverentially. “You mean Shimazu-sama himself? Wow!” and he ran off to find them.

Within a minute, Byako returned with his father, dressed as a twelfth-century samurai, and Ennosuke on crutches, dressed in the most ridiculous-looking merchant’s outfit Kenshin had ever seen. Obviously, there were worse things than being an onnagata, Kenshin thought as he took in the sight! “He’s supposed to be a shady medicine seller,” Byako whispered at Kenshin’s bemused look.

Kenshin and Byako now headed out the gate into the front courtyard. Unlike the bare and empty space of the morning, it was now packed with people and stalls and sights and smells that Kenshin, for one, hadn’t experienced since perhaps Kyoto. It really was like a street festival, just as Ikuko had said, but still, Kenshin hadn’t quite expected this many people. Instinct took over as he started scanning the crowds for any sign of danger until he felt Byako pulling on his sleeve and saying, “Come on!”

He allowed himself to be dragged forward into the crowds until they reached the souvenir fan stall near the theater entrance. The vendor, a wizened old man, bowed low to them as they approached, then quickly laid out two tatami mats, a small writing table, and a brush and ink. There was a throng of women milling about the stall apparently waiting for their arrival, but as Kenshin and Byako settled themselves down on the mats and the women got a good look at them, they started grumbling.

“This isn’t Ennosuke-sama,” a middle-aged matron started saying.

The other women started murmuring, “What, this isn’t Ennosuke-sama?”

“We were expecting Ennosuke-sama,” the middle-aged woman said to Byako, pointedly ignoring Kenshin entirely. “Why isn’t he out here?”

Byako was taken aback. He was just a kid, what was she asking him for? “Well,” he finally managed, “the announcer did say that Shinosuke the First was playing the role of the Widow. You must have heard it, and this is Shinosuke the First.”

There was some more murmuring, then the woman said, “But the posters said Ennosuke-sama would be performing. We want Ennosuke-sama!”

“Well, Ennosuke-sama couldn’t play the Widow today,” Byako said in an exasperated voice. “Shinosuke the First is our newest actor, and anyway, soon he’ll be as famous as Ennosuke-sama.”

Kenshingaggedat that comment, but he kept his mouth shut.

“We don’t care about that—we want that handsome Ennosuke-sama!” one of the other women demanded. “And if not him, then we want Ryosuke-sama and Daisuke-sama. Why aren’t they out here? This guy’s a nobody.”

The crowd started pushing forward as they all murmured their agreement. Kenshin had never found women to be inherently threatening before, but now he was beginning to change his mind. How did one defend oneself from a crowd of angry women, he wondered? It was definitely something Hiko had never taught him, that was for sure! “Perhaps we should leave,” he whispered to Byako.

“Oh, no, we couldn’t do that!” Byako whispered back. “Mother would kill me! We make a lot of money from this!” but he could see the crowd was getting ugly, so he decided on a different tactic. In as theatrical a voice as a nine-year-old could muster, he announced, “Ennosuke-sama was in a terrible accident a few days ago. Our wagon fell on him and broke his leg, and it was Shinosuke here who saved him. Why, if Shinosuke the First hadn’t come along—I mean, if he hadn’t been with us—then Ennosuke-sama would probably be dead right now!”

There was a stunned silence, then cries of “Oh, no, Ennosuke-sama! Did you say he was dead!”

“No, no, he’s fine now!” Byako assured everyone quickly. “In fact, he’ll be on stage right after intermission, so maybe you can get his autograph then, but meanwhile, why don’t you get the signature of the man who saved him!”

He sat back down and gave Kenshin a satisfied grin. “If that doesn’t bring these folks around,” he whispered, “I don’t know what will!”

Byako’s little speech worked, for suddenly the woman who had complained the most bowed low to the ground and cried out, “Oh, Shinosuke-sama, please forgive what I said and sign my fan!”

The old vendor rushed forward to collect the fee for the autograph before she could change her mind, then handed the woman’s fan to Kenshin. Suddenly, there were twenty women crowding around, all holding out their fans as well. The vendor pushed them back and croaked, “One at a time, please, one at a time!”

Byako chuckled as Kenshin started signing fan after fan. It looked like they’d take in a handsome amount of money for Kenshin’s autograph after all; Byako was quite proud of himself. It took nearly ten minutes to satisfy the initial crowd, but they had little time to rest before more people wandered by asking for his autograph. The news, apparently, traveled fast.

In the midst of all this craziness came Baiko, wearing a seal around his neck identifying him as an official of the Daisuke family. He pushed his way through to Kenshin’s side and said softly, “What the hell are you still doing here? I thought you were supposed to, you know, not be here….”

“Sessha knows,” Kenshin said exasperatedly as he wrote on yet another fan, “but Ikuko-san ordered me to sign autographs. Sessha had no choice.” He dared not say anything more with Byako sitting next to him.

“Yeah, well, come find me later,” Baiko said. “I’ve got something important to tell you.” Then he melted back into the crowds.

It took nearly fifteen more minutes before the flood of customers slowed to a trickle, then to nothing at all. Byako started getting restless, and Kenshin was itching to get back to the wagon to change and disappear. After several minutes of nothing to do, he turned to Byako and said, “Do you think maybe we could leave now? Sessha could sign some extra fans just in case someone comes later asking for one.”

Byako’s eyes lit up—he was getting very bored. “Hey, that’s a great idea!” he enthused. “Ojiisan,” he called out to the vendor, “what do you think?” In reply, the old man handed Kenshin a dozen fans.

Byako jumped up and stretched his legs, a huge smile on his face now that he didn’t have to sit in one place. “Man, I don’t know how you grown-ups manage to sit for so long! You want me to wait while you sign those fans and walk you back?”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Kenshin smiled. “Sessha needs to find Baiko anyway.” That’s all Byako needed to hear, and he quickly disappeared into the crowd.

Kenshin found Baiko at the far end of the courtyard near the stalls selling food and drink. The aroma of soba noodles and sweet buns mixed with the smell of tea and sake, making Kenshin feel hungry for a snack. It apparently had the same effect on Baiko, for when Kenshin caught up with him, he was just finished a sweet rice dumpling and was licking his fingers.

“Himura,” he said in between licks, “good stuff here—you ought to try some!”

Kenshin pulled him away from the stall and said, “As soon as the show starts up again, sessha will go back to change. Then sessha will pick up his things at the inn and leave.”

“Hang on,” Baiko broke in. “That’s what I wanted to tell you—there’s been a slight complication. You know those samurai who saw you this morning while we were putting up the posters? Well, their story about seeing you-know-who is getting around pretty quickly. I don’t think anybody in Miyazaki necessarily knew much about you—him!—before, but they sure do now, and I’m not sure it’s safe for you to show up at the inn. Can you wait a half-hour or so before you take off? The old man asked me to run over to the inn during the show and bring our things back here. He wanted you and me to take the wagon straight over to the Soudai Theater after the show, and he wanted us to stay there overnight with it. I guess it’ll just be me now, but still…. If you could just wait a bit, I could go to the inn as soon as intermission’s over, and you wouldn’t even have to show your face in town.”

Kenshin thought for a moment. Even at his fastest, it might take nearly fifteen minutes to change and get all his makeup off. “Okay, sessha will wait.”

“Good,” Baiko said. “As soon as everyone’s back in the theater, I’ll take off.” Then he gave Kenshin a quick clasp on the shoulders.

Some customers at one of the sake stalls happened to be watching as Baiko did so. To them it looked as if Baiko was hugging a pretty geisha, and they started laughing and pointing. Then, as Kenshin started walking back toward the theater, they started to follow him. It didn’t take much skill to know they were following, for their drunken stench was all too obvious, and so Kenshin shouldn’t have been surprised when one of them reached out to spin him into an awkward embrace, but he was. He was really beginning to understand now what Ryosuke had meant that first day when he said being an onnagata would make him appreciate what women went through. Men!

“Hey guys! An unattached geisha, and a pretty one at that!” the man slurred out in his drunkenness. “Maybe we could pay you to entertain us, eh?”

Kenshin flung his arms out to the side to break the man’s hold, nearly sending himself tottering over on his high geta in the process. Then he waved his fan in front of his face, as women were taught to do when they’re embarrassed, but the man started lunging tipsily for him again. Kenshin backed up several steps, rapped the man’s arm hard with his closed fan, then sent it up under the man’s jaw. The man yelped in pain, but Kenshin’s move apparently just whetted the man’s appetite more, for this time the man tried to grab Kenshin’s shoulders to pull him in for a kiss. Kenshin backed up again. All he wanted to do was get back to the wagon—he was in no mood for this! So, in as deep a voice as he could manage, he growled out, “I am no geisha. I am Shinosuke the First, a member of this acting troupe.”

“Ooh, it’s one of the girlie men!” another of them said, and they started laughing until they saw Kenshin start walking away. “Hey, we’re paying customers!” the first man shouted, and he tried to grab Kenshin’s arm to pull him back, but Kenshin easily yanked his arm out of the man’s grip.

“This one suggests you leave me alone,” Kenshin said in a voice that would have sent chills up the spine of most men, but these men were too drunk to notice. Instead, another one started reaching for the neckline of Kenshin’s kimono.

What was it Ikuko had told him to do if anyone gave him trouble? Deck them but be ladylike about it? In the blink of an eye, Kenshin grabbed the man’s extended arm and flipped him over; the man landed on his back with a sickening thud. It all happened so fast that the others just stared dumbfounded at Kenshin, who quickly whipped out his fan and smiled in a demure, feminine way as if nothing had happened. That was too much for them. They suddenly backed away and ran, leaving their comrade on the ground moaning in pain. Now Baiko and one of the governor’s ceremonial guards came running over to see what all the commotion was about. “He got fresh,” Kenshin said to Baiko with a smirk, and with no more explanation than that, he once again headed for the gate that would lead him back to the wagon.

He couldn’t get through the gate fast enough. Kenshin had never liked crowds, but today in particular it put his nerves on edge. He was better now at walking in high geta, but more than once he had found himself nearly losing his balance after being jostled. Then there was his constant worry over the wig. What if, in the crush of people, someone knocked into his wig by accident and caused it to fall off? With so many of Shimazu’s ceremonial guards ringing the area, the last thing he wanted was for even one wisp of his red hair to be seen. So it was with a huge feeling of relief that he finally made it through the gate and closed it behind him. When he then heard the drum announcing the end of intermission, his relief was complete. Within minutes, the noise and chaos of the little mini-festival had disappeared.

Kenshin hurried across the rear courtyard now, anxious to change and be gone. Ryosuke’s boys, Saburo and Oda, were playing a spirited game of hanetsuki just in front of the wagon, and he nodded to them, but as he went to climb in, Saburo called out, “Hey, you can’t go in there!”

Kenshin stopped, foot in mid-air. “Why not?” he asked somewhat irritably. He couldn’t wait to get out of the wig and kimono!

“Because Nomi-chan is in there napping.”

“I am not!” came a cry from inside the wagon.

Saburo rolled his eyes and shouted, “Shut up, Nomi-chan!” Then, to Kenshin, he said, “Well, she’s supposed to be taking a nap, and Auntie says if she doesn’t sleep, she has to at least rest until the end of Second Uncle’s skit.” He stuck out his tongue at the wagon, and called out, “So there!”

“But it’s not fair!” Nomi challenged from within the wagon.

“Shut up, Nomi-chan!” Saburo and Oda cried out in unison.

Kenshin hesitated. He hadn’t counted on the children being around when he made his getaway. It would be easy enough to concoct some kind of story to keep the boys in the dark about what he was planning to do, but he absolutely needed to retrieve his sakabatou and zori first. That meant dealing with a rambunctious three-year-old whose current favorite pastime was to cling to his leg or bowl him over with hugs. Clearly, that made retrieving the sakabatou and zori an impossibility right now, but from what the boys said, Nomi would not be resting much longer. He turned back from the wagon and sat on its step. He might as well wait it out, he figured. Anyway, hadn’t he just promised Baiko he’d wait a half-hour?

With nothing else to do, he idly started watching the boys play hanetsuki. He chuckled despite himself as four-year-old Oda tried in vain to hit the cork ball and as Saburo became more and more annoyed with his brother. Time, however, weighed heavily upon him. He was edgy, anxious to be gone. Even closing his eyes to try to center himself didn’t work, for every time he opened them, he was reminded that he was dressed like a woman. He was surprised at how helpless that made him feel, and he didn’t like that feeling at all.

The boys eventually threw down their paddles and started playing tag, laughing as they landed on top of each other in a heap of arms and legs. It reminded Kenshin of those afternoons in the yard of the little house in Otsu, when the local children would come to play. He couldn’t remember how it had come about, but somehow the children had managed to include him in their play. He remembered one particularly ironic day when the boys had convinced him to play the evil Shinsengumi captain to their heroic Ishin Shishi fighters. He came to look forward to their little visits, for in all his life he never remembered ever having playmates or even having time for such fun and games. It had made him even more determined to help bring about the new era of peace and justice, so that children like them—like Saburo and Oda now—would never have to endure what Kenshin had had to endure under the harsh Bakufu. And he had done it, he had helped topple that cruel regime. So why didn’t he feel happier watching these boys play? Wasn’t this what he had fought for, so that these boys could grow up without the fear of sudden and random death, without the grinding oppression of the old regime? Why, instead, did he feel so empty inside?

Slowly it came to him—he ached to stay with this family, not leave them. Why else had he come up with all those excuses for not leaving before lunch? There really was no earthly reason he had to stay. So what if he broke his promise to Daisuke to help out with today’s performance? Would that really have been worse than having his presence discovered among them? No, he wanted to stay, to feel like he belonged somewhere. For that’s what this family had done for him—it had made him feel like he belonged.

But it was more than that. All his life he had been surrounded by violence and death—his parents’ death from cholera, the harshness of being a slave, the slaughter of the slavers’ band, the Bakumatsu itself. Hiko had taught him the way of the sword, for which he would be forever grateful, but it was the only way of life he knew. It had led him, in his ignorance, to his fateful agreement to bring ‘heaven’s justice’ to the enemies of the Ishin Shishi.

This family, however, was offering to teach him a different way, a way that would bring joy and happiness to people instead of death. Already he had surprised himself with his own laughter, and he had to admit that hearing an audience laugh at his antics on stage had felt almost liberating. After the darkness of the Bakumatsu and the loneliness of wandering, it was like a tiny ray of sunlight sneaking into his life, and he didn’t want to let it go. If only Orinosuke weren’t about to find out the truth about him, if only that ceremonial guard hadn’t recognized him on the street that morning….

Kenshin sighed. Baiko was right. Any chance he might have had for a normal life had been forfeited the moment he became a hitokiri, but that didn’t mean he didn’t long for it. For these few brief days, he had almost managed to forget that he had no right to such a life. No, his lot in life was to wander to the end of his days trying to atone for all the lives he had taken, and he couldn’t afford to forget that ever again. He steeled himself now, tried to harden his heart, for despite all his wishes, he knew he had to leave this family right away. Danger lurked within the very theater itself, not only in the person of Orinosuke, but especially in the presence of the man now onstage as an extra who sought revenge against the Hitokiri Battousai.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of applause coming from the theater. The boys stopped what they were doing, then turned to each other and clapped hands in a high five—their enforced babysitting was at an end! They yelled “See ‘ya later!” to Kenshin, then ran full speed for the theater just as Ennosuke emerged from the back door.

This was Kenshin’s chance. Even though Ennosuke was heading for the wagon, he was on crutches, and it would take him awhile to cross the courtyard. All Kenshin needed to do was grab his sakabatou and zori, then jump over the wall—he could change out of his costume later and leave it where it could be easily found. He quickly started up the wagon steps to tell Nomi she could get up now, only to find that somehow, despite all the noise the boys had been making, she had fallen fast asleep. Worse, she had stretched herself out crosswise in front of the opening, preventing him from doing anything quickly, especially dressed as he was in the bulky woman’s kimono. It would take too long to tie back the kimono’s voluminous sleeves and grab for his things without waking up Nomi. He looked back and saw Ennosuke waving to him. He had no choice. He backed down the steps and waved back.

“What’s going on up there?” Ennosuke called out softly. “Is Nomi-chan giving you a hard time?”

Kenshin plastered an innocent smile on his face and said, “Sessha was hoping to change out of this costume, but it looks like Nomi-chan has finally fallen asleep.” It was the truth, after all, though not the full truth.

“Finally?” Ennosuke said. “I’ll bet she tried to keep herself up, didn’t she.” He slowly lowered himself into a sitting position on the wagon step, then said, “Anyway, Mother should have told you that all of us go out for a final bow after the last act, including you. You’ll have to stay in costume for that.”

Kenshin’s smile faded. Another delay? He needed to get away, and get away now. With Ennosuke apparently settling in for some babysitting duty, however, it would be virtually impossible to take off undetected, even for someone as good at disappearing as Kenshin was. His mind raced as he considered his limited options. Then it occurred to him—why wasn’t Ennosuke out front signing autographs?

“Ennosuke-san,” he finally said, his smile plastered once more on his face, “shouldn’t you be signing those souvenir fans right now?”

“Oh, they went straight into the first act of Kanjincho without an intermission,” Ennosuke replied. “They won’t need me out front until after the first act. Why?”

“Oh, nothing,” Kenshin said nonchalantly, but Ennosuke’s answer told Kenshin exactly what he needed to know.

The two sat there now, Ennosuke leaning back and relaxing, glad to be off his leg, and Kenshin sitting tense and uncomfortable in the silence. Ennosuke glanced over at him. He had never really had an opportunity to get a true measure of this man, though how much he could glean while Kenshin was dressed as a woman was debatable. He thought back to his one extended conversation with Kenshin, the one that seemed to have raised more questions than answers, and decided the time had come to find out just what it was about Kenshin that had so set off his oldest brother’s alarms. “So,” he said after a long silence, “are you just back from fighting up in Aizu and Hokkaido with the Satsuma army, like Baiko-san?”

There was something troubling Ennosuke—Kenshin could feel it—but he didn’t know what. “Who, me?” he asked innocently. “Oh, no, sessha isn’t from Satsuma.” Then he quickly plastered the silly smile on his face, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Best to play dumb, he decided.

“Oh, I just sort of assumed…. So what brought you this far south, then?”

Kenshin went on full alert. Ennosuke was a skilled actor—his voice gave nothing away—but Kenshin could tell from his ki that Ennosuke was aiming for more than just idle chit-chat. An interrogation, that’s what Ennosuke was up to—not a hostile one, but an interrogation nonetheless. He determined to bring it quickly to an end. “Sessha was just looking for someplace warm to spend the winter, that’s all.”

“Ah, good thought,” Ennosuke replied. “Kagoshima is noted for its mild winters….” But Ennosuke wasn’t willing to let it go at that. There was something about Kenshin that obviously had set Orinosuke off, and as much as he thought his oldest brother was an overbearing bastard, he had to admit that his brother’s instincts were often right. “So if you weren’t with the Satsuma army, whose army were you with?” he continued in a conversational tone.

This man wasn’t about to give up, was he? Choosing his words carefully and keeping the benign smile on his face, Kenshin answered, “Sessha was with the Ishin Shishi.” Best not to be too specific, he figured, and for a brief moment he thought maybe he had managed to satisfy Ennosuke’s curiosity, but he was wrong.

“Ishin Shishi? The patriots during the Bakumatsu? But that was years ago.” He looked again at Kenshin. “You’re about my age, aren’t you? Maybe a little younger? Surely you couldn’t have fought that long ago….”

“Sessha quit after Toba Fushimi,” Kenshin broke in. That, he knew, would be a safe answer. Thousands of soldiers from all over the country had descended on those two unlucky towns, and at that battle it didn’t matter which rebel province one was allied with. Ennosuke didn’t need to know any more than that.

“Ah,” said Ennosuke with an understanding nod. Then, after a little mental math, he said, “So, you must have been, what, eighteen or so? Well, that makes sense. And that’s when you decided never to kill again, right? I can understand that. Even down here, where news is months old by the time we get it, we heard that Toba Fushimi was an extremely bloody battle.”

“Aa,” was all Kenshin said in response, but he decided now to get up and walk around. He couldn’t afford to have Ennosuke ask any more questions.

He wandered along the long wall, stopping here and there to examine some of the scraggly bushes that lined it, when he felt, more than heard, Baiko come through the gate. He looked up to find Baiko half-running to the wagon with two bedrolls and their travel bags slung over his shoulders. The look of surprise on his face at seeing Kenshin still in costume was unmistakable. Kenshin hurried forward to meet him before Ennosuke could ask any questions.

“Himura, what the hell…?” Baiko sputtered as he dropped their things near the wagon.

“Shh,” Kenshin said quickly “Nomi-chan is asleep.” With a meaningful look, he added, “In the wagon.”

“In the—what?”

“Your friend here was so anxious to get out of his costume he wanted to change right away, but Nomi-chan is napping,” Ennosuke supplied helpfully.

Baiko looked from Ennosuke to the wagon to Kenshin as the situation became clear to him—Kenshin was stuck. He picked up Kenshin’s things and flung them at him and said, “Here, take these and follow me. We’ll stick them on the seat up front for now.”

Baiko grabbed Kenshin’s kimono sleeve and started dragging him along. “What the hell is going on?” he whispered when they were out of earshot of Ennosuke. “I thought you’d be ready to bolt by now!”

“Nomi-chan fell asleep across the wagon opening,” Kenshin explained quickly, “and before sessha could get in, Ennosuke-san was here. There will be another intermission soon, and then this one will be gone.”

Baiko sighed. “Well, I hope you have better luck this time. Listen. I know you’re still planning to deliver a letter of some sort to that guy who’s hunting for you. What’s his name? Ozumi? Ozawa?”

“Ozawa,” Kenshin confirmed.

“And I’m guessing you’re not planning to give it to him here, right?”

“That would not be wise, no.”

“That’s what I figured, so I asked the innkeeper if he knew where Shimazu-sama and his bodyguards were staying. Turns out he’s not the governor of Miyazaki—did you know that? He’s just visiting because of that dinky shrine we saw back there. Anyway, he’s staying with the governor of this prefecture, who lives in the old daimyo’s compound. The compound has a barracks, but that’s not where you’ll find his ceremonial guards—they’re being billetted in the south guest house at the back. The compound’s not far from the inn, so he says.”

Kenshin absently patted the sleeve holding the letter. This was good information; it would save him valuable time later. He squeezed Baiko’s arm and said, “Thanks.”

“So, are you going to tell me when you plan to meet this guy?” Baiko asked before Kenshin could walk away.

Kenshin looked surprised at the question. “Baiko, you’re a good friend and all, but this must be between only me and this man.”

“I know, but…you know…I mean, what if something were to happen…if you were all alone…I mean, you said so yourself, there are no guarantees in a swordfight….”

Kenshin laughed softly. “Baiko, sessha will be just fine, but if it makes you feel any better, it’s at midnight in the clearing where you found me at lunchtime.”

Baiko smiled weakly. “Yeah, I know, you’ll be fine,” but he planned to hide himself nearby anyway, just to make sure.

Baiko walked back to sit with Ennosuke now, and Kenshin listened as the two started talking and laughing together about something or other. Then came the sounds of applause from the theater, and he saw Bunjiro waving to Ennosuke from the backstage door. Baiko helped Ennosuke up onto his crutches, and the two hurried off to the front courtyard, leaving Kenshin alone.

Well, not entirely alone, for before Ennosuke and Baiko had even reached the gate, the twelve extras had already started filing out into the courtyard to relax. Despite their costumes, no one would mistake these men for actors. Or at least Kenshin’s well-honed senses had no trouble telling that every one of these men was a highly skilled samurai, and it didn’t take long to realize that one of them was staring at him. No matter—he would be gone in a matter of minutes. He turned his back on the men and climbed up to the wagon bench, hoping to enter the wagon from the front and avoid Nomi entirely. Unfortunately, when he pulled the curtain aside, he found that someone had piled up a bunch of boxes against the opening. He growled in irritation.

There was nothing for it but to try again to enter from the rear without waking Nomi. So, tying up his copious kimono sleeves and pulling the voluminous hem as tightly around his legs as possible, he kneeled next to the sleeping child and reached for where he had left his sakabatou. His hand, however, felt only empty space. He leaned forward to get a better look, but his sakabatou, as well as his zori, were nowhere in sight. He leaned even farther forward over Nomi and started frantically feeling around for his weapon. Nothing! Nomi stirred now as a stray fold from Kenshin’s kimono brushed the side of her face.

“Mama?” she murmured drowsily at what she thought was a woman next to her.

Kenshin looked back. Now was not the time for Nomi to be waking up—it would take too much time to quiet her, and he had precious little of that. And so, as calmly as he could, he said, “Hush, Nomi-chan, it’s not time to wake up yet.”

“Oh, okay,” she responded dreamily, and she rolled over and went back to sleep.

Kenshin sat back on his heels now, an unfamiliar feeling of panic rising in his chest. He was positive he had left his sakabatou halfway back in the wagon along the left wall, yet it definitely was not there. But wait a minute. He hadn’t known that a child would be napping in the wagon, and certainly no one would have wanted a weapon within easy reach of little hands….

He looked up along the walls of the wagon. There it was, on a top shelf near the front of the wagon, along with his zori. Ikuko must have put them there sometime after he left. He couldn’t risk stirring Nomi a second time—that would guarantee the little firecracker would stay awake—so he quickly backed down the stairs of the wagon and headed again for the wagon bench, determined to move the boxes so he could reach the shelf. He was just about to do so when he sensed someone approaching. It was Ikuko, bearing a tray of food. “Himura-san?” he heard her call out.

He ducked down. Were all the gods conspiring against him or something? He heard Ikuko call out again; apparently, she had not seen him yet. He quickly analyzed his options, given this latest turn of events. Perhaps he could just hide and not answer, and then she would go away, but Ikuko, he knew, was not the sort to give up, just like her eldest son Orinosuke. If he didn’t answer, she would probably start searching for him, and no matter what explanation he came up with for why he was hiding, it would make it even more difficult for him to disappear later. Once again, he had no choice. And so, with a sinking heart, he climbed down from the wagon seat and bowed a greeting. How incongruous, he thought ruefully as he watched Ikuko approach. Here he was, the infamous Hitokiri Battousai, known far and wide for his ability to appear and disappear like a shadow, being thwarted in all his attempts to disappear by a grandmother and a three-year old!

“Konnichiwa, Himura-san,” Ikuko sang out, a huge smile on her face and a tray of rice balls in her hand. “Things are just going so well, thanks to you! Your play was a hit, Youngest Son is well enough to do The Medicine Seller, what more could our family ask for!” She held out the tray to Kenshin and said, “Here, I’ve brought you a snack in case you’re hungry.”

Kenshin forced a smile on his face and took the proffered food with a bow.

“Oh, now, no need to be so formal with me anymore,” Ikuko said with a smile. “You’re family now—Shinosuke the First—and we’re proud to have you. Won’t you reconsider joining our acting school? Second Son told me you declined, but we’d be so honored….”

What he wouldn’t give to be able to say yes, to keep experiencing what it felt like to bring joy to people, but he knew that was just a fantasy. No, the reality was that he needed to leave this family forever before something terrible befell them because of him. The smile, of course, never left his face as he forced himself to say, “The offer was most kind, but a rurouni is a rurouni, after all….”

Ikuko waved his words away. “Oh, pish-tush,” she said. “If you had a reason to stay put, you would, wouldn’t you?” She was about to say more, but to Kenshin’s relief, she saw Byako waving and calling out to her from the theater. “Oh, goodness,” she exclaimed. “Intermission must be nearly over. I’d better get back to work! Well, enjoy the rice balls, Himura-san.”

The intermission was nearly over? This intermission was Kenshin’s last best opportunity to leave inconspicuously, and now it was gone! He walked back behind the wagon, away from the prying eyes of the extras, and munched a rice ball, his mind working at a furious pace. He figured he had maybe less than five minutes before someone, probably Ennosuke, came back to take over babysitting duties; it would take less than that to climb over Nomi, grab his sakabatou and zori, and be gone over the wall. Nomi, however, would awaken for sure and immediately tell her father about his disappearance. Ennosuke, he guessed, would then probably sound an alarm, which would bring out the governor’s bodyguards within minutes. He had no doubt he could elude anyone who tried to search for him, but not dressed as he was in his costume.

But if hopping the wall before the end of the performance was not an option, what then? It had been the presence at the rehearsal of Ozawa, the man seeking revenge against him, that had prompted Daisuke to forbid any talk about the Hitokiri Battousai until after the show, but once the performance was over, Ozawa and his comrades would be free to tell Orinosuke everything they knew. And heaven forbid that Orinosuke should strike up a conversation with the bodyguard attending the governor who had actually seen Kenshin at that meeting five years ago! Kenshin had no doubt that if Orinosuke found out the truth that way, he would immediately tell Ozawa. Either way, the chance of a bloody swordfight right then and there was tremendous, and in such an emotionally charged atmosphere, there was always the danger that innocents might be injured or killed. Rarely had he felt so powerless to stop the inevitable.

His guess about Ennosuke turned out to be right. Within five minutes, Ennosuke was back at the wagon to babysit, along with Saburo and Oda, who immediately pulled out a deck of cards to play menko. Ennosuke was looking pale and drawn. Kenshin offered him a rice ball.

“Oh, no thanks, I had a little something while I was out front,” Ennosuke said as he carefully lowered himself onto the wagon steps to sit. He closed his eyes, and Kenshin noticed a small grimace of pain cross his face. “Maybe I overdid it a little today,” Ennosuke muttered softly. “Ah, well….” Then he gave a chuckle and said, “I hear my adoring fans gave you a bit of trouble out there.”

Kenshin smiled wanly. He was in no mood at this point for small talk. “They were rightly insistent on seeing you, not me” he managed to answer.

Ennosuke chuckled again. “They can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, can’t they. Fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, if you know what I mean.”

Oh, yes, Kenshin knew exactly what he meant. If he hadn’t done his own job so well back during the Bakumatsu….

“So,” Ennosuke continued, “what do you plan to do with yourself once we get back to Kagoshima?”

Back to Kagoshima? Oh, yes, Kenshin remembered that no one knew yet that he had no intention of traveling back with them. Following Baiko’s advice to give nothing away, he said merely, “Sessha will probably wander as before.”

Ennosuke turned to look at him. “But why not stay on with us? I know Second Brother suggested a career as an onnagata, but you wouldn’t have to limit yourself to that.”

Kenshin groaned inwardly. Give nothing away, he reminded himself again, so he said, “Ryosuke-san said my voice wasn’t low enough for anything else.”

“He said what!” Ennosuke started laughing so hard he was practically in tears. “He said that to you!”

Kenshin just looked at him. It wasn’t that funny, was it?

“I’m sorry, Himura-san,” Ennosuke managed to say between guffaws, “it’s just that Second Brother’s voice used to be rather high itself, and we used to tease him mercilessly over it. Why, it didn’t really lower to where it is now until he was about your age!” He laughed some more before he brought himself under control. “He should have told you there are ways to lower a voice. All it takes is opening the throat some and projecting from the chest. That’s what he did for years!” And he started laughing all over again.

Kenshin glowered. It was bad enough that Ryosuke had made fun of his speaking voice, but to not tell him there was a way to make himself sound more authoritative? Actually, he could have made good use of that information about seven years ago….

“Oh, come on, Himura-san, don’t look so put out. I know you’re not comfortable as an onnagata….”

“I didn’t think it was that obvious,” Kenshin broke in.

“Well, anyone who’s so frantic to get out of a costume can’t possibly be comfortable,” Ennosuke noted, “but there’s so much more you could do….”

Suddenly, a small face poked out from the wagon, and a sleepy voice said, “Papa?” Nomi was awake. “Papa!” she cried out, and she crawled into Ennosuke’s lap and gave him a big hug. She gave Kenshin a sleepy smile, then buried her face in her father’s shoulder. “You look silly,” she said to her father, whose costume, Kenshin had to agree, looked totally ridiculous.

Ennosuke nuzzled her back and murmured, “Why, thank you.”

In what other family, Kenshin thought to himself, would such a comment be taken as a compliment? No doubt about it, he was going to miss all of them—well, maybe not all of them, but most of them—very much. Still, Kenshin was relieved that Nomi had interrupted Ennosuke’s conversation, for it was getting harder and harder to deal with. He was tired of lying, tired of pretending. He wanted more than anything to just be honest with these people, but it couldn’t be. Instead, he got up and went to join the boys in their card game.

They were into their fourth round of menko when Bunjiro trotted up to tell them it was time to head back to the theater. The boys cheered and quickly picked up their cards, glad to have this long afternoon over with. Kenshin felt like cheering with them. Playing menko had saved him from uncomfortable conversation, but he had found it to be a supremely unchallenging and utterly boring game. No wonder Hiko had never taught it to him. The children skipped and jumped now as they followed Ennosuke and Kenshin to the backstage door, making such a racket that Ennosuke finally called out, “Shh! There’s still a play going on! And remember, you’ve got to be very quiet backstage until your mothers are done and come for you.”

Saburo, Oda, and Nomi all nodded their heads very seriously, then entered the backstage room and sat on one of the benches as quietly as little mice. The room was so empty now, but Kenshin knew that within minutes, it would be crawling with twelve ceremonial guards. He would be glad to be out front when that happened.

“Himura-san,” Ennosuke said softly, “as soon as Father and my brothers take their bows, we’ll go out and link hands with them for a joint bow. Then Father will lead us down the ramp into the audience and out the front. The audience follows us, we give out last-minute autographs, and within fifteen or twenty minutes, everyone’s gone and we get to eat dinner. Got it?”

“Got it,” Kenshin acknowledged. Fifteen or twenty minutes, and all the children will be backstage instead of at the wagon? Maybe he’d have that chance to get away after all….

He followed Ennosuke and Bunjiro to the stage wings to await their entrance. Bunjiro quietly pulled out the wheelchair for Ennosuke, and Kenshin helped him settle in. Then the last words of the play were spoken and applause broke out. Within a minute, the three of them joined the others onstage for a group bow and the long walk down the ramp and out the theater door.