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In Search of Family: Chapter 5

by Conspirator

‘What am I going to say to the man when I meet him?’

This was the thought that had consumed nearly all of Oibore’s waking hours during what turned out to be a very long trip from Kyoto to Tokyo. True, he was lucky enough to be riding in a wagon with the silk merchants most of the way, rather than walking as he normally would. And true, the Tokaido Road was not nearly as busy as it had been 10 years ago, now that people with enough money could ride the train instead. The merchants, however, seemed to have business at nearly every one of the 55 stations on the road, so what should have taken only about seven days was stretching to close to two weeks.

‘So, what will I say to him when I find him?’

If this had been 10 years ago, it would have been simple. Kenshin would have been about 18, and to have the father-in-law of his late wife show up would not be totally unexpected. In fact, despite the guilt Kenshin clearly felt about Tomoe’s death, it might have been somewhat comforting, considering that Oibore was offering him forgiveness.

But now Kenshin would be about 28 years old—a full-grown, mature man, not a young adult still unsure of himself. He remembered from his talk with the monk in Aizu eight years ago that Kenshin was a very private man, and as Toshiro reminded him before he left, it was entirely possible that Kenshin might not have told anyone about his marriage at all. For all he knew, Kenshin might have married again. What would his reaction be at meeting Oibore now? And what was Kenshin like now? Had he ever succeeded in reconciling his true self with his bloody past? What if he, like so many other veterans of the Bakumatsu, had just given up and become a hard, bitter man? ‘That, I think would break my heart,’ Oibore thought.

It seemed like an eternity, but finally Oibore and the silk merchants reached the outskirts of Tokyo. That’s when it really struck him how much had changed since he had left 10 years ago. It wasn’t just that the city’s name had changed from Edo to Tokyo, but he was quite sure that what was now the edge of the city used to be a small, sparsely populated rural village. As his caravan made its way further into the city, he saw several Western-style buildings, not to mention many Westerners themselves, something that was hardly ever seen when he lived there. Finally, they stopped near a rather new-looking market area, where he found an inexpensive inn for lodging. The merchants were planning to return to Kyoto in two weeks, which would give Oibore plenty of time to get to know his son-in-law and conduct all the business Ko’s merchant friend had asked him to do.

And what to do first? For Oibore, there was no question—finding Kenshin was at the top of his list. All he knew, however, was what Ko’s brother-in-law had written, that Kenshin lived at some unnamed dojo in Tokyo. In a city of a half-million people, how was he supposed to find the one dojo among the dozens and dozens that surely existed in every quarter of the city? The solution, he decided, was to combine the two ventures.

So it was that the next day he accompanied the silk merchants to their first stop, a silk wholesaler. As he was looking for the particular patterns Ko’s friend wanted him to buy, he struck up a conversation with one of the sales clerks.

"I used to live in Tokyo, long ago when it was called Edo," Oibore began as he wandered slowly among bolts of fabric. "The city certainly has changed."

"Oh, yes, much bigger, much livelier," replied the clerk.

"Livelier?" laughed Oibore. "Why, I’ve heard it’s so lively that the police have captured drug lords here, and that the sword-wielding police are scaring everyone!"

"You’ve heard about that all the way to Kyoto?" the man said incredulously. "It must be because that swordsman was involved—you know, the one they say was the Hitokiri Battousai."

"Hitokiri Battousai?" Oibore repeated. "Not the one who terrified Kyoto during the Bakumatsu?"

"Oh, yes," the clerk replied, warming to the subject. "They say he’s not a killer anymore, but he certainly took care of that drug lord, not to mention that thug who tried to assassinate a local official not long ago. Don’t know whether I’d like to meet him or not, if you know what I mean. Anyway, he lives in some other neighborhood."

"So he actually lives in Tokyo?" Oibore said casually as he continued to finger the various bolts of fabric.

"Well, somewhere in the city, at any rate," said the clerk. "Supposedly he lives at a dojo that’s owned by some girl, of all things. I think the name’s Kamiriya or something. Boy, I wouldn’t want to be her, what with a former hitokiri under my roof!"

Kamiriya! A clue! Oibore decided it would only be right to thank the clerk by making a purchase, so he bought a bolt of royal blue silk embroidered with beautiful apple blossoms and butterflies, and had it sent to his room at the inn. Then he told his traveling companions that it was time for him to strike out on his own errands for the rest of the day—the errand, of course, being to find the Kamiriya dojo.

Oibore decided the best way to find a dojo was to ask at a dojo, so he started walking through the nearby neighborhoods looking for any dojo. He stopped at the first one he found and knocked at the gate. A rather unfriendly man answered.

"Excuse me," Oibore said, bowing politely, "I am a visitor to Tokyo, looking for the Kamiriya dojo."

"Kamiriya? Huh!" the man snorted. "Never heard of it. Go ask at the dojo six blocks from here. They’re real gossips, they know everyone." He pointed to the east.

Oibore thanked the man and walked off in the direction he indicated. When he found the second dojo, he knocked once again and said, "Excuse me, I am a visitor to Tokyo, looking for the Kamiriya dojo. Would you know where to find it?"

This time it was a middle-aged woman who answered the knock. "Kamiriya?" she repeated. She thought for a moment. "You must mean Kamiya—Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. But Kamiya-san died a few years ago. His daughter is trying to run it now, but who ever heard of a female kendo master? Really, girls these days!"

"Ah, yes, that’s it, Kamiya," Oibore said. "I’m such an old man I garbled the name. Could you tell me where to find it? Friends in Kyoto have sent me with a message."

She looked at the old man standing in front of her and said, with concern in her voice, "Ojiisan, I regret to tell you, but it’s way on the other side of the city—a very long walk. I don’t know the exact address, but I do know it’s near the bend in the river, about half-way between the small marketplace near the bend and a restaurant called the Akabeko. If you keep walking east, you’re bound to find it."

Oibore’s mind was willing, but his feet were telling him to save the trip for tomorrow. ‘I guess I’m no spring chicken anymore,’ he mused, feeling every one of his 60-plus years. So, he reluctantly headed back to the inn to soak in a nice hot bath and plan his trek across the city.

As he ate his breakfast the next morning, Oibore thought about the quickest route across town. Having been born and raised in Tokyo, he knew the older parts of the city like the back of his hand. Although it was not near the area where he used to live, he did know exactly where the bend in the river was, and he knew exactly what streets to take to get there. He also knew that if he were a young man again, it would take him more than an hour to walk there; as an old man with tired feet, it would take considerably longer. He decided he’d better leave right after breakfast in order to arrive at the dojo before lunch.

The walk turned out to be very nostalgic. There was the street his wife’s family had lived on, where he had courted her so many years ago. Further on was the building he used to work in, back when he was a clerk for the Bakufu government. He recognized storefronts and old friends’ houses, but the names had all changed, and he saw no one he recognized. Finally, he came to the bend in the river. His feet were so tired and achy by this time that he decided to stop by the river and soak them in the cool water. After a blissful 15 minutes, he went up the embankment to find the marketplace. He decided his feet would appreciate it if he asked for directions to the dojo, rather than just walking around searching for it, so he went up to one of the stalls.

"Pardon me," he said to the young shopkeeper, "I’m looking for the Kamiya dojo. Could you tell me where it is?"

"Kamiya dojo? Oh, yes! That’s where that red-headed man lives," she answered, blushing slightly. "He’s one of our very best customers, though I haven’t seen him lately."

"Really?" Oibore said. "He shops here often?"

"Oh, yes, he buys all his tofu here, and lots and lots of laundry detergent," she said with great seriousness. "I hear he just loves to do the laundry."

Laundry?

"You just go down this street, follow the wall, turn right, and you’ll find it."

‘Thank goodness it’s close,’ thought Oibore.

He thanked the young woman, then set off down the street and followed the wall until the turn in the road. Sure enough, shortly after turning right, he saw a large dojo whose sign said "Kamiya Kasshin Ryu." His heart skipped a few beats as he walked up to the gate, but when he got there, he found a note: "We have gone to Kyoto. If you need help, please see Takani Megumi at the Gensai Clinic." The note concluded with the address and directions.

‘Kyoto? It can’t be!’ He groaned inwardly. Maybe it was just the young Kamiya woman who went to Kyoto, it couldn’t be Kenshin as well, could it? The gods wouldn’t do that to him, would they? He quickly memorized the directions to the Gensai clinic and started walking as fast as he could. His heart was pounding in his chest—to have come so far, to have found the place where his son-in-law was living, and then to find it deserted—it was more than he could take.

It only took less than 10 minutes to reach the clinic, but it was a very tired, very dejected Oibore who knocked at the door. An elderly gentleman answered.

Bowing deeply, Oibore said, "I have come from the Kamiya dojo. A sign there has directed me here to see Takani Megumi. Would it be possible to speak with her?"

"Of course," the old man said. "She is one of the doctors here. I am the other, Dr. Gensai. Please come in."

‘A woman doctor?’ Oibore thought wearily. ‘What will they think of next?’

A few minutes later, a young woman dressed in a doctor’s smock approached. "I am Takani Megumi. May I help you with something?"

Oibore didn’t know what he had expected, but his idea of a woman doctor certainly wasn’t one of a rather good-looking young woman. ‘I’ll bet the young men are finding all sorts of ailments just to see her,’ he thought with a laugh. More seriously, however, he needed to think of a way to ask for Kenshin without giving away his own identity. He decided that something a bit less than the truth, but not a total lie either, would be best.

"Takani-sensei, I have come all the way from Kyoto to deliver a message to Kamiya-san from friends of her family," Oibore said. "It seems everyone at her home has left for Kyoto, however."

Megumi narrowed her eyes, trying to decide if this old man was on the level or not. ‘Friends of her family?’ Megumi thought. ‘I wonder if someone is trying to marry her off or something. I’ll bet that’s it.’

Aloud she said, "I’m sorry to say, but yes, she left for Kyoto three weeks ago. You are aware, of course, that she is practically betrothed to the man boarding at her dojo. It’s him that she has followed to Kyoto."

It slowly dawned on Oibore just what Megumi was getting at. "Oh, no, Takani-sensei, I’m not here to play matchmaker!" he laughed. "I just wanted to visit with her on behalf of these friends. Do you know when she will be back?"

"Why don’t you come inside," she said, and showed him into a small sitting room. She watched as he slowly walked into the room and painfully lowered himself into a sitting position. "And your name is….?"

Oibore thought quickly. Here was someone who obviously knew the residents of the Kamiya dojo well, but he still could not be sure how much she knew about Kenshin’s past. Best to stick with his nickname, he decided.

"People call me Oibore," he smiled. Then, just to see what kind of reaction he would get, he added, "I’m just a poor rurouni."

"Rurouni?" Megumi said sharply. "What do you know about the rurouni?"

"The rurouni? No, no, I’m a kind of rurouni, a wandering scholar," Oibore said innocently. "I wander here and there teaching children how to read and work with numbers." He saw a look of relief swiftly cross Megumi’s otherwise impassive face. "Why? Is something the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," she quickly answered, "it’s just that a dear, dear friend of mine is a rurouni. Although we all thought he had decided to stop wandering, but he’s gone wandering again…." Her voice trailed off.

Oibore noticed her eyes taking on a sad, faraway look. "Is that who left for Kyoto?" he asked gently, "the person Kamiya-san has followed?"

Megumi nodded. "He left a month ago. He said goodbye to Kaoru—Kamiya Kaoru, that is—but not to anyone else, not even me. She left a few days later, along with her student Yahiko, to find him. And then another friend, Sano, left…. ." She stopped, wiped her eyes, then continued. "Well, I couldn’t go because my patients need me."

"And you have feelings for both those young men, don’t you."

"How did you….," Megumi sputtered. Then she sighed, saying, "You know, you remind me of my grandfather."

Before Oibore could say a word, the young doctor looked away, trying to hold back her emotions but failing. Four weeks of worrying and waiting finally came to a head in a flood of tears. Oibore moved to her side and, throwing propriety to the winds, put his arms around her and let her cry. They sat like that for several minutes, Megumi crying and Oibore stroking her head, saying, "There, there…."

As the tears slowed, Megumi looked up at Oibore and realized that the person giving her comfort was actually a total stranger. She hastily dried her eyes and stuttered, "Oh, I’m so sorry, I….please forgive me….it’s just…."

"Maa, maa," Oibore said, smiling gently. "I was a father once. It’s a good feeling to be able to help a daughter once again."

"It’s just that I haven’t heard a word from any of them in so long," Megumi blurted out. "And it’s not as if dear Ken-san just decided to leave for no reason. He used to be a swordsman of, well, some renown, but he’s been trying to put that behind him. About a month ago, though, Governor Okubo asked him to go to Kyoto to try to stop some madman. They said he was the only one who could do it. We begged him not to go, but after Okubo-sama was assassinated last month, he decided he had to go. He left by himself because he was afraid he would put us all in danger otherwise. Oibore-san, he might be killed, he might never come back, he might lose his soul!" And with that, she started sobbing again.

"There, there," Oibore said as he comforted her again. "You have great faith in this Ken-san, as do all your friends. Why else would they follow him, and why else would you worry so about him? He is a lucky man to have such friends."

Once again, Megumi wiped away her tears. "Thank you," she said quietly. "You know, you really are like my grandfather—he always knew how to calm my fears and make things better."

Oibore moved to get up, groaning a bit as his old bones complained. "Well, Takani-sensei, it’s time I was off," he said. "Thank you so much for telling me about your friends."

As he started walking towards the door, Megumi called to him, "Wait! Let me get something for you."

She hurried out of the room, then returned carrying two bottles. "Here," she said, "take these. I noticed when you came that your feet and legs were bothering you. I have no doubt that you have more than a touch of arthritis. This is a special linament, a secret formula developed by my late father. Use this twice a day, and I am sure you will feel much better."

She motioned for him to sit once again and proceeded to apply it to his legs and feet. The smell was atrocious, but almost instantly the warmth it imparted to his ailing bones made some of the pain go away.

"I appreciate this very much," he said, pushing the bottles back to her, "but I have no money to pay you."

"Then take it as a gift," she said, "in appreciation for your help today."

They walked to the clinic door together and were just about to say farewell when a policeman came running up.

"Are you Takani Megumi?" the man called out, trying to catch his breath.

"Yes," she replied.

"A letter," he panted. "You must read it right away!"

Megumi took the letter and immediately recognized the handwriting--it was Kaoru’s. Oibore moved to leave, but she held him back as she quickly read the letter. She handed it to him to read as she stood in shock.

"Dearest Megumi," the letter read. "Kenshin has won the battle, but he has been gravely injured and is close to death. You must come right away. — Kaoru. P.S. The rest of us are okay, except Yahiko has a bad sword slash on his back, and Sano’s hand is so broken that it may never recover."

"My dear," Oibore said gently as he clasped Megumi’s shoulders, "your family needs you."

"Yes," she said in a dazed way, "yes, they do."

By now the policeman had caught his breath and yelled, "Lady, you have to get moving! Chief Uramura has a ticket for you for the late afternoon train. You’ve got to get going now!"

The spell was broken. Megumi, back to her efficient, professional self, gave a quick hug to Oibore, then flew inside to gather her things for the trip.

"Thanks once again, Ojiisan," she yelled as she went through the clinic door.

He watched as she ran back into the clinic, then started his long trek back to the inn. The fates, Oibore decided, were having their fun playing with him. Not only was Kenshin in Kyoto instead of Tokyo, but it sounded like he might die before Oibore could get back. Perhaps he just wasn’t destined to meet his daughter’s husband after all. He kept thinking how much he would rather head back right away to Kyoto. Instead, he knew he had to stick around Tokyo for another week and a half to conduct business before he could return with the silk merchants. Rarely in the past 10 years had he ever regretted living his simple life. What need did he have for money except to pay for food, clothing, and a roof over his head? But now he would have given anything to be able to afford a train ticket and hop on that afternoon train with the young doctor.

Oibore’s mood didn’t lighten much over the next several days. Hadn’t he promised Tomoe, that first day at her grave, that he would find her love and look after him? If only he had come a month earlier! Instead, her husband lay severely wounded, even dead perhaps, in Kyoto. He felt he had failed her. He did have one piece of good luck, however—not only did he finish his own business quicker than planned, but so did the silk merchants. So, half a week early they were on their way back to Kyoto, and this time there were no stops to do business along the way.