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An Unexpected Lesson: Chapter 12

by Conspirator ::: 02.Jun.2005

It was nearly dark now, the deepest part of twilight, with only torches to light the courtyard. All the vendors had already closed up and gone home, and so with nothing to delay them, most of the theatergoers started heading home, with Baiko pointing out the way for them. As predicted, some hung back to collect more autographs, even from Kenshin.

His concentration was elsewhere, however, for there was one group that seemed inclined not to leave the courtyard at all—the large retinue of the governor. Only after the last autograph hound had left did the governor and his group approach, apparently for another long talk with Daisuke and his sons. The long formalities of greeting and praise went on and on, seemingly interminably. That's when Kenshin realized that no one, not even the governor's bodyguards, was paying much attention to him. Experimentally, he took two steps back. No one noticed. He took another two steps back. Still no reaction. Nobody was watching.

This was his chance to escape, and he took it. He stealthily walked farther and farther back until he was completely within the deep shadow of the theater building, then he hurried along its wall to the gate leading to the back. Two of the governor's bodyguards were blocking the gate, but as Kenshin was one of the actors, they had no hesitation about letting him through.

As soon as the gate was closed, he ran for the wagon as best he could in the high geta and threw himself inside. Immediately, he reached up and grabbed his sakabatou and zori from the high shelf, then quickly whipped off his wig. There was no way in the darkness that he could run through the forest undetected while wearing the cumbersome woman's kimono, so he quickly untied the obi and slipped out of the kimono and bulky chest-piece. Then he grabbed for the towels Ikuko had used earlier to clean his wound and hurriedly started rubbing the makeup off his face; in the dark, the bright white would make him stand out too much. In his haste, he didn't even bother searching for a mirror; he just hoped that with sufficient rubbing, all traces of the makeup would eventually be gone.

He was still rubbing the red off his lips when he detected the approach of an extremely hostile ki, and it was coming fast. It was Orinosuke. He threw down the rag, quickly slipped his sakabatou into his obi and the zori onto his feet, and made for the wagon opening. Orinosuke was in his face before he could jump out. Kenshin tried to push past him, but Orinosuke pulled out his sword and barred the way. Kenshin backed up and said, "That's a costume sword."

Orinosuke sneered, "But as we all know, even a dull blade can inflict grievous wounds—Hitokiri Battousai."

He stared at Kenshin's impassive face, waiting for some reaction but finding none. "Oh, yes, I know who you are, and I have proof now. You see, I've just had a talk with one of Shimazu-sama's bodyguards, one who apparently met you several years ago."

He pushed further into the wagon, forcing Kenshin back. Then he yelled out, "Father! Brothers! Come quick! I've caught the Hitokiri Battousai!" To Kenshin he added darkly, "Lucky for you the governor's men just left."

"Why are you doing this, Orinosuke-san?" Kenshin asked in a cold voice. "Sessha has no argument with you; this one wishes only to leave."

Now there was the sound of running and shouts of "What's going on out there?" Baiko was the first to arrive, and as soon as Orinosuke saw him, he called out, "Get up here and draw your sword—he's the Hitokiri Battousai!"

Baiko stared at Orinosuke's stormy face, then at Kenshin's emotionless one, and hesitated.

"You heard me, man—draw your sword!" Orinosuke yelled in fury. "That's an order!" He slapped Baiko hard on the face, and Baiko reluctantly drew his sword. "And aim it at him!" Orinosuke added when he saw that Baiko had no intention of pointing the blade at Kenshin.

By now Daisuke and Ryosuke had reached the wagon. Daisuke roughly pushed Baiko out of the way and yelled, "What the hell is going on here? What's this all about?"

Orinosuke turned to his father, his face triumphant as he announced, "This, Father, is the man everyone's searching for! The Hitokiri Battousai—that's who your beloved rurouni really is!" At his father's look of disbelief, Orinosuke said, "Oh yes, I have my proof now. You wouldn't believe me before when I said he was dangerous, but now I have the proof! Shimazu-sama's bodyguard, Father—he met the great Hitokiri Battousai once, and he told me all about him. The one they call the demon from hell, the one who moves with the speed of the gods and flies like one as well. The one they say drinks blood for the fun of it! Red hair, he said, a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. Thought he'd be taller, he said, but he's really rather short—and very young…."

Daisuke pushed his son aside and faced Kenshin himself. He stared into Kenshin's eyes and demanded, "Is this true?"

Kenshin looked down at his hands. "There were some who called me that," Kenshin answered softly.

"You see?" Orinosuke crowed. He spotted Ennosuke now, who was just reaching the wagon on his crutches. "Brother, do you believe me now?" Then, turning to his father, he said, "For seven long years you've kept us in Kagoshima, one bad decision piling on top of another. I always thought moving us from Kyoto was the first, but maybe giving money to those blood-sucking Ishin Shishi was the first. Now, though, you've gone too far. You made us harbor not just a killer, but the most notorious killer in all Japan! You put all of our lives at risk!"

He turned to look at Ryosuke and Ennosuke and said, "It's time this family had new leadership. It's time we took back our rightful place in Kyoto. If you had any doubts about that before, this…" and he pointed his sword back at Kenshin "…should prove it!"

Ryosuke suddenly pushed his way into the wagon, grabbed his brother by the neck of his costume, and punched him square in the jaw. Then he threw him out onto the ground. "Is that what this is all about? Displacing Father as head of this family?" he shouted angrily. "Never!"

Orinosuke got up and brushed himself off. "You're outnumbered, Second Brother. Youngest Brother agreed to join me once I had proof. Isn't that right, Youngest Brother?"

Ennosuke glared with outrage at Orinosuke and growled, "I agreed to no such thing. How dare you try to displace our father!" Then he turned to Daisuke and asked him pointedly, "What do you want us to do?"

Daisuke was furious at Orinosuke's mutinous remarks. Without even turning around, he said, "Get First Son out of my sight. I'll deal with Himura-san."

Daisuke rubbed his forehead wearily as he tried to block out the sounds of his family screaming and yelling at each other. How could it be? This gentle rurouni, who had saved his youngest son's life and even agreed to help out as an onnagata, was the infamous Hitokiri Battousai? He looked again at the young man standing forlornly before him, then at Baiko, who was still standing with his sword held out half-heartedly by his side.

"Oh, put that thing away, will you?" Daisuke muttered to Baiko. Then he turned to Kenshin and said, "Look at me."

Kenshin looked up, but before Daisuke could speak, Baiko broke in. "Daisuke-san, he's not what you think…."

Daisuke looked at Baiko with tired eyes. "What do you know about this?" he asked dispiritedly, "and for how long?"

"Since that first night," Baiko answered truthfully, "when he told us his name was Himura. Listen, you know I fought in the Boshin War. My squad commander was a fellow named Matsuo—Matsuo Hideoki from Choushu. Big guy, never said more than three words at a time, as honest as the day is long. He's the one who told us the Hitokiri Battousai's real name was Himura. He told us Himura was his friend, that Himura was a good man, not some ferocious demon. Daisuke-san, Matsuo is the most honest, plain-speaking man I've ever met. If he said Himura was a good man, then there was no question in my mind that he was. And Himura himself has proved it. Orinosuke-san attacked him twice, but did Himura do anything to hurt him? And even those rotten thieves—if anyone deserved to die, it was them. But did he kill them? No! Matsuo was right!"

Daisuke had been staring at Kenshin as Baiko spoke, trying to make sense of everything and having a hard time of it. "You are the one who caused so much carnage in Kyoto?" he finally managed. Then a thought occurred to him. Hadn't Kenshin told them he was twenty-two? But that would mean…. Impossible! "Why, you would have been just a young boy back then! It can't be!" Daisuke sputtered incredulously.

Kenshin didn't say anything. He just kept staring at the hands in his lap.

It was unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. This young man, who looked barely older than a boy anyway, had once been a cold-blooded killer? Daisuke still couldn't see it in him, but the facts were the facts, and Kenshin wasn't denying them. "Himura-san," Daisuke said, "I don't know what to think. You apparently are who they say you are, but I've seen no sign, no hint even of any of that…."

"What they say is true," Kenshin said softly. "Sessha cannot deny it, though what this one did nearly destroyed my soul. That's why sessha vowed that once the war was over, he would never take another life again, and he hasn't. Sessha took up the sakabatou instead and pledged himself to protect the defenseless. It was the only way this one knew to atone for all the lives he had taken. Sessha doesn't blame Orinosuke for his fear. It's no more than sessha deserves…."

Daisuke stopped him. "You deserve no such thing! You've been nothing but honorable during your stay with us! There was absolutely no call for my son to treat you so dishonorably! But what to do about you now…."

"Daisuke-san, sessha knew it was only a matter of time before your son figured things out. This one should have left this morning, but there was my promise to you to stay for the performance for Shimazu-sama. Sessha thought perhaps he could disappear right after the first play—before anything happened—but…."

"Tell me truthfully, Himura-san," Daisuke broke in, for a troubling thought had occurred to him. "Are you a wanted man? Is the government looking for you?"

Kenshin hesitated before replying. He had not thought so, but then there was that comment from Ennosuke the other day that suggested Okubo Toshimichi was looking for him. He had heard rumors that the new government was hunting down anyone who knew too much of its dirty laundry, and Kenshin certainly fit that description. He decided to answer as truthfully as possible. "Sessha was promised that wouldn't happen," he said finally.

"By whom?" Daisuke pressed.

"My leader, Katsura Kogoro."

"Katsura Kogoro?" Daisuke repeated in astonishment. "The Katsura Kogoro?"

"He was Himura-san's direct superior," Baiko confirmed. "I know that from what Matsuo told me."

"Well, that puts things in a different light…," Daisuke started, but Kenshin stopped him. He had an idea of what Daisuke was thinking, and he knew he had to head it off.

"This one will be forever grateful for the kindness you and your family have shown me," he put in quickly, "but it would be a mistake for you to shelter me any further. It's not just the fear that would always be lurking in the back of your minds if this one stayed. Sessha wishes this weren't so, but now that people know who this one is, my presence would bring only danger to you and your family. The fact that someone even now seeks me out for revenge places all of you in danger. There is no choice but for me to leave."

He reached forward to move boxes away from the wagon seat, where his travel bag and bedroll were, but Daisuke stopped him. It struck Daisuke that what was happening here was just like the plot of one of their kabuki tragedies, only this time he had the power to change the outcome.

"Meet back up with us in Kagoshima—you'd be safe with us there," he said quickly. "First Son will be gone to Kyoto, and Shimazu-sama could provide you his protection. Why, he was just saying this afternoon that if we needed anything…."

"But it's one of his own ceremonial guards who has a claim on my life—a legitimate claim," Kenshin reminded him. "No matter how much sessha might wish otherwise, it can't be."

Daisuke watched as Kenshin pulled his things off the wagon seat and into the wagon. The look on Kenshin's face told him there was no turning him away from his decision. "Then I'd better find the money right now to pay your portion of the reward. If you hadn't been with us when we ran into those yakuza…."

"It is most generous," Kenshin demurred, "but sessha cannot accept payment for using his sword. Baiko-san is your security guard. The money should rightly go to him."

Baiko shot him a surprised glance and mouthed a silent "Thanks!"

"Well, then, at least let me pay you for the two performances you've done," Daisuke insisted. "It's only right."

Kenshin paused to consider this offer when Ikuko suddenly burst in.

"Himura-san, what's this about your being the Hitokiri Battousai?" she demanded to know. She stared hard into Kenshin's eyes. The level of sorrow and guilt she saw within them told her everything. "Oh, Himura-chan," she moaned softly. "You?"

Kenshin lowered his eyes.

Now a whole range of emotions played across Ikuko's face—surprise, fear, anger, then resolve.

"Young man, you're in great danger," she suddenly announced. "Husband, are you aware there is a man in town seeking to kill him? We've got to get him out of here!" Now she started barking out orders. "Baiko-san, go keep an eye on First Son—make sure he doesn't do anything rash. And send Bunjiro-chan over here with one of those bento boxes the inn just sent over."

Baiko took off with a quick, "Hai, hai!"

"Husband, we need to give him his portion of the reward…."

"He's refused it," Daisuke said, " but I do believe he'll accept payment for the two performances he's done, right?" Kenshin nodded yes. "Then I'll need the money from today's souvenir sales to pay him, and Baiko-san still has that envelope. We'll need him back here right away." Then to Kenshin he said, "How do we go about getting you out of here?"

Kenshin started gathering up his things again. "Over the wall," he said. "That's what sessha was planning to do when Orinosuke-san stopped me. There's too great a chance of running into Shimazu-sama's entourage if this one goes out the front."

Ikuko moved behind Kenshin now to reach for a hat that was hanging on the wall of the wagon. "Here, take this," she said in a strained voice as she handed it to Kenshin. "You might need it to hide your hair."

Kenshin bowed low and murmured a thankful, "Arigatou," but when he looked back up, he saw not her usual kindly face, but a stern and implacable one.

"Himura-san, don't mistake this for kindness," Ikuko said. "I do this out of courtesy, as thanks for the services you have rendered to our family. I can't pretend to condone what you did back in Kyoto, spreading the terror that you did…."

"His immediate superior was Katsura Kogoro himself," Daisuke cut in.

"I have no doubt," Ikuko said dismissively. She was fighting with herself, a war between her conflicting feelings of outrage at what the Hitokiri Battousai had done in Kyoto and sorrow that the source of her outrage was someone she had come to care for. Why hadn't he admitted it earlier that afternoon when she told him that the Hitokiri Battousai had been sighted in the city? Her anger grew. He had deceived her.

She turned her back on them now to look out towards the theater for Bunjiro. So, Kenshin had taken orders directly from the great Katsura Kogoro himself, had he? She remembered how Kyoto that year had seemed to move so suddenly from relative calm to a sea of blood. How could she forget? Some of their most loyal patrons had been assassinated that year, killed by the Hitokiri Battousai, they had heard. That had brought out those ruthless thugs, the Shinsengumi, and then no one felt safe walking the streets, not even in broad daylight. Then came the massacre of patriot leaders at Ikedaya, followed by the terrible retribution against Ishin Shishi sympathizers everywhere. It all had the quality now of some horrible nightmare, thankfully one they had managed to escape. And all because of this seemingly sweet young man?

She looked back at Kenshin from the corner of her eye. She could tell her words had stung him deeply. He had been at the center of the nightmare that had been the Bakumatsu. So many things became clear to her now—his reticence, his flinching at the merest kind touch. She realized now that unlike her own family, he would probably have to live with this nightmare for the rest of his life. She couldn't deny she had taken a great liking to Kenshin. She had seen the truth of him through his actions over these past four days, and she knew that no matter what he might have been during the Bakumatsu, he certainly wasn't like that now. He didn't deserve this.

Bunjiro suddenly came running up with a bento box. His face was panicked. "Baiko-san and First Uncle just punched out my father," he cried. "Father was going to run after that guard who told him about Kenshin-san. He wants to get Kenshin-san killed! Grandmother, I don't want to go to with him to Kyoto! I don't even want to be near him!"

Ikuko bent down, tears in her eyes, and hugged the boy. "Hush," she said as calmly as she could. "We'll deal with all of that later. Now run back and tell Baiko-san we need him here right away."

She turned back to face Kenshin. His face was a cold, emotionless mask now, the effect of her harsh words, no doubt. She hated to admit it, but the mask he wore broke her heart.

"Oh, who am I trying to kid," she finally sighed. "What you did back then was what you were required to do, not what you wanted to do. I know that. We all did things back then that under normal circumstances we never would have done. What choice did we have if we were to survive?" She stopped and looked into Kenshin's eyes once more, then said, "You know, I've seen into your heart, Himura-chan, and what I've seen is honorable and good. It saddens me that the world may never allow itself to see in you what I've seen."

Kenshin's mask broke. Was she forgiving him? "Ikuko-dono," he started to say, but she cut him off with a flick of her hand, afraid that any more talking might bring on some tears she'd prefer not to shed. Anyway, Baiko was coming now, and time was growing short.

"Baiko-san, you have the money from today's souvenir sales?" Daisuke called out as soon as he was within earshot.

Baiko dug into his gi and handed Daisuke a fat packet. Daisuke quickly retrieved a handful of coins and handed them to Kenshin. "Two days' pay, plus a little something for your medical services."

"Medical services? But sessha can't…."

"Yes you can, and you will," Daisuke shot back. "Now, get out of here before it's too late!"

Ikuko moved away from the wagon's opening to allow Kenshin to jump down. Then she and her husband followed him to the nearby wall and watched him toss his travel bag and bedroll over the top. He placed the hat on his head, stuck the bento box inside his gi, and turned back to look at them one last time. Then he jumped gracefully over the wall and was gone from sight.

Baiko nearly missed Kenshin's departure, for he was busy rummaging in his own travel bag for his warm haori. Now he came running up and tossed it over the wall to Kenshin.

"Oi, Himura!" he yelled. "You'll need this, too!" At Daisuke and Ikuko's inquiring look, he said sheepishly, "Didn't want him to get cold." He heard Kenshin pick it up, then there was silence, not even the sound of a footfall.

It was pitch black in the forest behind the theater, with not even the moon to light the way. Kenshin had no need of light, however. His night vision was excellent, and he knew exactly where he was headed—the clearing at the end of the path between the Miyazaki Jingu shrine and the cliff, where he had stood just that morning admiring the view.

It wasn't just the sea he had noticed then. His instincts being what they were, he had naturally found himself scanning the shoreline and beach for signs of danger as well as places of refuge in case of emergency. Some habits died hard, he thought ruefully, and this time he was glad of it. As he had sat playing one mind-numbing game of menko after another with Ryosuke's boys, he remembered seeing a large pile of brush the sea had pushed up against the base of the cliff, just where the cliff formed a gentle curve around the beach. He had also noticed a series of steps leading to the beach that someone had cut roughly into the side of the hill, and this was where he headed now.

It only took a few minutes to locate the steps, though perhaps that wasn't the right word for it—it was more like foot-sized gashes, luckily made by someone with much larger feet. He slung his bag and bedroll over his back and slowly started down the series of steps, clutching at tree roots and rock outcroppings as he did to keep himself from falling. It was quite a steep descent, and it took nearly ten minutes to navigate the passage down to the beach. Once there, he quickly scanned the area for signs of life, then flattened himself against the cliff wall and quickly walked the short distance to the brush pile.

As he neared it, he stopped and cast his senses in all directions for any hints of ki. Then he removed his bag and bedroll from his back and bent low over the sand to look for footprints, whether animal or human. He wished he could light just a small clump of twigs, but it would have stood out too strongly against the darkness. Still, with great effort, he was able to determine that nothing, except a few shore birds, had been this way in quite some time.

With his safety thus assured, Kenshin began to inspect the area around the brush pile to see if it would provide suitable cover for the night. To his surprise, behind the pile he found a partially overturned boat stuck deep into the mud. The boat's bottom faced out towards the ocean, shielding him not only from wind, but also from potentially prying eyes, so he reached for the flint he always kept in his pocket and lit a few twigs for light. It was enough to show him that no animal had yet decided to make the boat its home. Another glance out at the beach showed that it was high tide now, and the water was still a good ten feet away. The boat was perfect—it would provide him with dry shelter for the night and would be a safe place to stow his things. Now all he needed to do was sneak back into the city to deliver his letter to the man who sought his life, the ceremonial guard Ozawa.

The climb back up the cliff face was as difficult as the descent, but once up on top, it took Kenshin no time at all to find his way to the edge of the city and then to the governor's mansion, keeping to the shadows and rooftops as he did. It pained him to think that the skills he was using now were the very ones that had made him so horribly successful as a hitokiri. It was only a little comfort to know that at least this time he was using those skills to try to avoid bloodshed, not to create it.

Using the information he had gotten from Baiko, he skirted the front of the governor's estate, with its ornate gate and nearby soldiers' barracks, and headed for the rear, where he could see two winged rooftops just peeking past the top of the high wall. As luck would have it, across from this wall was a row of shops shuttered for the night, and so he jumped quickly onto one of the roofs to look over the wall. Now he could see the two guest buildings the innkeeper had mentioned to Baiko. In front of one of them were several ceremonial guards lounging on the building's engawa, playing go.

While on the beach, Kenshin had picked up a good-sized rock and pocketed it, along with some strong, dried seaweed. Now he took out the letter and used the seaweed to tie it tightly to the rock. Then, when he was sure no one was looking, he stood and hurled the rock into the empty yard in front of the building. His aim was excellent. Unfortunately, one of the samurai chose that very moment to walk into the courtyard, right into the rock's trajectory. Kenshin quickly melted back into the rooftop as he heard a surprised "Oww!"

He peeked out from his prone position to see a half-dozen men race to their comrade yelling, "What happened?" Others ran for the nearest gate to look out into the street for whoever threw the rock, but none thought to search the rooftops. Then he saw the unlucky guard looking closely at the rock and heard him say rather incredulously, "It's some kind of letter addressed to Ozawa-kun!"

"Ozawa-kun?" repeated one of the men dumbly. "Who'd be writing him?"

The guard rubbed his chest where the rock had hit him and snapped, "Just stop gawking and go get him, you fool!"

Kenshin continued to watch as the cry went up for Ozawa. Within a minute, a tall, powerfully built man came out and untied the letter from the rock. The man's comrades crowded around him while he read the letter in the light of the doorway.

"What is it?" one of the men asked impatiently. "What does it say?"

Ozawa looked up and scanned the walls, then crumpled the letter roughly in his hand. "It's nothing," he said in a deadly calm voice. "Just a fan letter from some idiot."

The men started laughing and pounding Ozawa on the back, teasing him about his acting job earlier that afternoon, but Ozawa pushed them away and strode back inside.

Kenshin gave an unconscious sigh of relief. It was his greatest hope that his letter would convince Ozawa to give up his dream of revenge, but if that didn't happen, he knew there was every possibility Ozawa might bring others with him. Not that Kenshin worried about the outcome if Ozawa did, but he had no desire to inflict injury on anyone else, if he could help it. Given Ozawa's reaction to his letter, however, Kenshin now felt fairly sure that if the man did decide to meet him, he would come alone. That meant a better opportunity to try once more to turn the man away from his path of revenge.

The yard in front of the guest house emptied quickly now as Ozawa's comrades followed him in. As soon as they were all inside, Kenshin ran to the farthest end of the roof, jumped down, and made his way back to the rough steps leading to the beach and his shelter for the night. Only then did he finally relax enough to open the bento box Ikuko had given him before he left. He was ravenous by this point and would gladly have wolfed down the entire thing, but he had no way of knowing when his next meal might be. So, he allowed himself to eat only half of the dinner; the rest he reluctantly closed back up to save for tomorrow. Now there was nothing left to do but stare out at the inky darkness over the sea and wait for midnight. He glanced up at the stars to get a sense for the time—the trajectory of the constellations would help him know when to leave .

So much had happened these past four days, so much to make sense of during these hours of waiting, but all his mind could think of were the events of Kinmon no Hen—the chaos of battle, the ensuing fire that had engulfed half of Kyoto, but before anything, the order for him to silently kill as many palace guards as possible. Had he really killed this man's brother? Twenty-three men he had killed in less than ten minutes, but in his mind's eye he could still see every one of their faces. He wondered which one was Ozawa's brother. Tall and powerful, he guessed, but then to a scrawny fifteen-year-old, everyone looked tall and powerful. It bothered him now that he could not put a face to the name.

Finally, a glance at the stars showed that it was getting close to midnight. He sighed, then began the long trudge up the steps cut into the cliff. Once on top, he picked out a tall tree near the clearing and hid himself in its branches to await the probable arrival of Ozawa. Not ten minutes later, he saw a flash of something coming his way. He cast out his senses and smiled—he could tell by the ki that it was Baiko. His eyes quickly found him as the man tried to navigate his way in the darkness. There had been so few who had been willing to look past the label of hitokiri to see Kenshin for who he really was. His friend that first year in Kyoto—Yoshida was his name—had been one. Now there was Baiko. There was no need for Baiko to worry about him, of course, but it felt good to know that he did anyway.

He was suddenly shaken from his thoughts by the sound of someone else crashing noisily through the forest. The strong sense of an intensely hostile ki told him this was his adversary, and that he was alone. It was time. He quickly jumped down from the tree to await the man in the center of the clearing.

"Ozawa-san," Kenshin acknowledged as the man emerged from the woods.

"So you're the Hitokiri Battousai," Ozawa spat out in reply. "I have harbored a hatred of you ever since you killed my brother."

"Your brother died honorably, defending the emperor," Kenshin said. "There is no need for revenge."

"Like hell there isn't! You didn't just kill him—his wife was pregnant when you killed him, and she killed herself when she found out. You took her life and that of their child—murderer!"

The words were barely out of his mouth before Ozawa flew forward with all the skill and speed of a master swordsman intent upon killing with the first stroke. Kenshin stood his ground until the very last moment, then bounded up and over the man's head to land lightly behind him. Ozawa skidded to a halt and turned, hatred raging across his face.

"Do not pursue this, Ozawa-san," Kenshin warned him. "Nothing good can come from this fight. Neither your death nor mine will bring your brother back."

"I read that letter of yours," Ozawa snarled. "Atone for your sins? It almost made me puke. You'll atone all right—by my blade!"

With that, Ozawa launched into another deadly assault. As he ran forward, his sword quickly sliced the air left and right in front of him, effectively stopping any counterattack, until just as he came within sword's reach of his target. Then the swing turned into a lethal upward stroke intended to slice even a soaring swordsman in two from the crotch to the head. Kenshin quickly dropped and rolled sideways out of reach of both the slicing strokes and the killing upward stroke. Then, regaining his footing, he jumped further back and stood once again to face his challenger.

Now Ozawa was even more enraged. He had just thrown two of his most powerful techniques at this man and had not managed to leave even a mark on him. Even worse, he had yet to see any sign of the mysterious sword style the Hitokiri Battousai was said to use. The hitokiri, on the other hand, had gotten to see two of his own most powerful moves—a tactical advantage. Ozawa's anger rose even further. "Fight like a man!" Ozawa finally taunted. Then he settled into a battoujutsu stance and waited.

Kenshin remained unmoved. This man just didn't get the hint. It was time to put an end to it. Kenshin also took the battoujutsu stance and waited. The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Ozawa had enough. He flew forward, planning to use the ougi of his style, but Kenshin had other plans. At the last possible instant, Kenshin once again launched himself skyward, and shouting "Ryu Tsui Sen!" he flew downward at Ozawa, slashing first at the hilt of Ozawa's outstretched sword, then following through with a powerful blow to Ozawa's chest. Ozawa's eyes widened in surprise as his blade broke away from his hilt. Then he crumbled to the ground in a heap.

Kenshin looked as the man clutched his chest and writhed in pain. "This fight is over," Kenshin said grimly. "You have discharged your obligation honorably. Return to your lord—he has need of your services." Then he turned to walk away.

As he did, Ozawa forced himself up onto an elbow, grabbed his wakizashi, and threw it with deadly accuracy at Kenshin's back. It had all been done so quietly, but there could be no masking of the sound a weapon makes as it is unsheathed, and there could be no mistaking the sound a weapon makes as it sails quickly through the air. Faster than the eye could see, Kenshin whirled around and drew his sword, knocking the wakizashi harmlessly to the ground. He cast a warning glance at Ozawa but said nothing, then he turned again to walk away.

Ozawa stared at his retreating form. Despite his pain, he called out, "The great Hitokiri Battousai just walks away from a fight? You haven't killed me yet! This battle is not over!"

Kenshin stopped yet again and turned one last time to face Ozawa. "The Hitokiri Battousai ceased to exist when the Bakumatsu ended. Return to your comrades. This battle is finished." Then he continued walking until he was gone from Ozawa's view.

He entered the forest now, heading for the path that led back to the cliffs and the beach. As he did, he nodded towards an ancient oak tree off to his left. "Baiko," he said simply.

Baiko had been crouching behind the huge trunk watching the whole encounter. He stood now and said, "Damn, he did it again! How did he know?" He tried to catch up to Kenshin, but Kenshin seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Baiko looked all around, then scanned the lower branches of the trees—after all, he hadn't experienced that terrifying walk through Miyazaki with Kenshin following from the rooftops for nothing—but Kenshin was gone.

"Good luck, Himura," Baiko said softly. Then he, too, turned to leave.

Kenshin smiled from his perch at the very top of one of the tallest trees; Baiko just hadn't though to look high enough. He watched as Baiko walked slowly back towards the city. He would miss Baiko, perhaps most of all.

Now he turned his attention back to Ozawa. He was relieved to see that the man was able to stand and walk, although with obvious pain and difficulty. Would these revenge matches never end? It was all such a waste. As soon as Ozawa was gone from sight, he climbed back down and returned to the overturned fishing boat on the beach and fell quickly asleep.

He was up at dawn, as usual, but he was not to be rewarded with a view of a sunrise over the ocean, for it had started raining sometime during the night. He shivered as he threw off the top cover of his bedroll and quickly put on the warm haori Baiko had given him. He peeked out from under his shelter and scouted the beach. He knew that a gentle rain at dawn on a cool autumn day was a good time to catch fish, and he didn't want to be found by any conscientious fisherman. As soon as he assured himself that no one was about, he gathered up his belongings, put on the hat Ikuko had given him, and took the path back up to the top of the cliff. During his two brief forays into the city, he had determined that the bulk of the city lay to the east of the shrine, so he decided to head west instead, keeping to the forest along the cliff's edge. When the trees gave way to buildings, he jumped up onto the nearest roof and continued his trek from there. It wasn't long before the buildings, too, petered out and he was free of the city. The road leading into the countryside was practically deserted in the rain, which suited him fine. He was wet, he was cold, but it could have been much worse.

The rain finally let up shortly after midday, so he stopped near an outcropping of boulders and sat down to eat. Then the sun came out, and he opened his bedroll and stretched out on it to soak in the warmth of its rays. Now that he was well away from any danger, he realized he had no idea where he would go next, although he knew where he didn't want to go. Orinosuke, he was sure, would tell every living soul he met that he had found the Hitokiri Battousai, and that was bound to attract revenge-seekers, even in as patriotic a province as Satsuma. So, going south through Satsuma was out of the question. He gave brief thought to going back north the way he had come, but winter was fast approaching, and he wanted to be in the south before the cold weather hit. And what lay to the west? The province his name was most closely associated with but which he had never really seen—Choushu. He had only been there once briefly as a boy, when he was with the Kiheitai. Maybe now was the time to see what the province of Katsura Kogoro was really like.

He must have dozed off while he was thinking for he awoke with a start at the sound of voices and footsteps coming closer. He sat up abruptly to find himself facing three rather disreputable-looking ronin. Time was he would have quickly stood and placed his hand threateningly over the hilt of his sword, but this time he didn't. What was it Baiko kept telling him to do? Just smile so they won't ask questions? He plastered a vacant smile on his face.

"Oi! You there!" One of the ronin kicked his leg. "Tell us how to get to the Takahashi farm."

Kenshin just smiled back stupidly.

"Oi, I'm talking to you!" the ronin repeated, kicking Kenshin harder this time.

Kenshin just smiled some more. "Oro?" he said.

Now the ronin drew his sword and pointed it threateningly. "You'll tell me where that farm is or you'll be tasting this sword instead of your lunch!"

"Sessha is just a rurouni, that he is," Kenshin said as he plastered yet another silly smile on his face.

The ronin stared, then turned to his comrades and said, "Huh, must be the village idiot. Let's go."

Yes, he had definitely learned a lot during his time with the kabuki troupe, Kenshin mused as he watched the ronin disappear harmlessly down the road. Survival skills, that's what it was—the art of fending off an enemy by putting on an act. He laughed out loud at the incongruity of it all—the feared Hitokiri Battousai as a village idiot. God, it felt good to laugh again, especially at himself! He gathered up his bedroll and travel bag now, his destination decided. Then, turning his face towards the sun, he headed west for Choushu.