All hail Watsuki-sama---he (and all the media conglomerates) own the RK characters. I won’t make a dime off this….
What does Yukishiro Takuo, who calls himself Oibore, find when he returns to Tokyo? This chapter is part one of the conclusion.

This chapter is based on the Jinchuu arc. All quotes from the manga are from the marvelous translations of Maigo-chan (all hail Maigo-chan!).
None.
Previous chapter ::: Author's page ::: Post a review at FFnet ::: Main fan fic index ::: Next chapter

In Search of Family: Chapter 7


by Conspirator


The trip from Kyoto to Tokyo seemed to take no time at all. Oibore had seen a train before, but he had never ridden on one. The whole experience was very strange and, in a way, very liberating. He could watch out the window as the canal and the countryside rolled by, which was oddly calming to his mind, and heaven knew his mind was in desperate need of that. It was so different from the long and arduous journey he had made just two short months ago. If it hadn’t been for the horrible feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, he probably would have enjoyed the whole experience immensely.

The train pulled into the Yokahama station shortly before noon. Oibore knew he had about an hour’s walk to Tokyo ahead of him, but he couldn’t bear to take that long—he had the feeling that time was of the essence. Instead, he decided to use some of the spare change he had brought with him to take a carriage to Tokyo. Within half an hour, he was at the city limits. He quickly got his bearings, then headed for the bend in the river and the Kamiya dojo. He found the marketplace, followed the wall, turned right, and saw a large crowd spilling out of the dojo gates. As crowds go, this one was awfully quiet. A tall policeman with a sword stood at the gate, arms folded as he surveyed the scene.

‘Oh, no,’ Oibore thought, ‘something’s happened.’ His heart sinking, he walked up to the gate and peeked in.

"What’s going on?" Oibore asked the policeman.

"What does it look like, old man?" was the curt response.

"I’m sure I don’t know," Oibore said tentatively. Despite the warmth of a mid-September day, he felt a distinctly icy chill coming from the man. He looked up and saw a thin face with the eyes of a hunter. The phrase ‘evil eyes’ went through his mind.

"It’s a funeral," the policeman said. "Any idiot can see that."

Oibore’s legs started to feel weak. He grabbed onto a gatepost for support as he asked, in a wavering voice, "Who died?"

"Huh, you don’t know? The Kamiya girl," the policeman said. "Killed. Stupid woman, finally bit off more than she could chew."

Suddenly, a tall, wild-haired man in a white jacket lunged between them, staring malevolently at the policeman. Oibore noticed the symbol for evil on his back.

"You pig," the man growled dangerously at the policeman. "Don’t ever let me hear you talk that way about the Little Missy again."

"Oh, and you’re gonna stop me," the policeman said in a snide voice. It was more of a statement than a question. "You still haven’t learned your lesson, have you….moron." The policeman’s hand moved subtly over to his katana.

"Why, you…!" and if a young boy hadn’t broken through the crowd right then, Oibore had no doubt the two men would have had a fight.

"Sano, no!" the boy shouted. "Have some respect for Kaoru. Saitou, you too!" He grabbed the wild-haired man’s arm and started pulling him away.

Then Oibore saw the young doctor. "Yahiko," Megumi said firmly, "why don’t we leave these….children….alone." Looking both men in the eye, she said in a tight voice, "Don’t you both have better things to do?"

As she led the boy away, she noticed Oibore. A flash of recognition went across her face, but she said nothing. The policeman also walked away after giving Sano a last, threatening glare.

As calm returned again, Oibore started scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of a red-haired man. He found none. Finally, he gathered up his courage and approached the man he now knew was named Sano.

"May I ask, what happened to Kamiya-san?"

Sano kept looking down the street after the policeman as he said, "Some lunatic from the Bakumatsu named Enishi. Said he wanted to give ‘earthly justice’ to Kenshin. But he kills Kaoru instead. Even cut an X on her cheek." He closed his eyes tight, as if trying to keep tears from coming.

"But Himura-san doesn’t seem to be here," Oibore said. "Where is he?"

"Damned if I know," Sano grunted as he turned to look at Oibore. Oibore watched as the man clenched and unclenched his fists. "Yeah, damned if I know," he said louder, "and when I get my hands on him…. How can he disappear at a time like this? We all knew how special Jou-chan was to him. I don’t understand him at all!" And with that, he stormed off.

Oibore felt sick. His son, Enishi, had done this—a heinous crime—all to get back at Kenshin. He saw no point in hanging around the dojo any longer, so he went back to the river to sit and think. Kamiya Kaoru was dead, killed by his son. Kenshin was nowhere to be found. Presumably he hadn’t been killed or that man Sano would have said so.

Sano. Oibore remembered that name. Wasn’t that the fellow Megumi mentioned when he met her in July? With the wild hair and the symbol for evil on his back, it was clear that this Sano fellow was the same one Fat Boy’s friend had seen bringing Kenshin back after the battle on Mt. Hiei. And the name Saitou—the policeman the friend said had the evil eyes. Yes, it had to be the same policeman, and yes, no one would forget eyes like those! As for the young boy who had pulled the two men apart, the doctor had called him Yahiko—another name he remembered from his talk with Megumi. That would have to be Kaoru’s student. He remembered Fat Boy saying that Kaoru and her young student had defeated two of the dangerous swordsmen who had attacked the restaurant in Kyoto. This must be the same boy, he concluded. This, then, was Kenshin’s circle of friends, the people Kenshin had sworn to protect and who had wanted to protect him.

Oibore buried his head in his hands. His daughter was right, he was needed here, but once again he seemed to be too late. Thirteen years ago Kenshin had loved, only to have death claim the one he loved. Now it appeared that Kenshin had loved once again, only to have death again claim the one he loved. Oibore looked up at the sky and shook his fist. "Haven’t you made this man suffer enough?" he cried.

He stayed down by the river for a good half hour before deciding it was time to move on. It was getting towards dinnertime, and he had a bit of a walk before reaching Rakuninmura. First, however, he wanted to stop by the young doctor’s office to deliver his gift. He was sure that by now she would be back from the funeral, and he was right. As he walked down the block, he could see her sitting on the porch, staring off into space.

"Takani-sensei?" Oibore said tentatively.

She looked up. "Oh, it’s you," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Oibore, isn’t it?" The voice was cold. "You know, when I went to Kyoto, I told Kaoru that friends of her family in Kyoto had sent a message with you. She said her family didn’t know anyone in Kyoto."

Oibore didn’t have an answer—he had been caught in a lie. He stood silent for a moment, then said softly, "It doesn’t really matter anymore, does it."

Megumi continued to stare at him.

"I have brought you a gift, Takani-sensei," Oibore finally said. "I was so appreciative of the linament you gave me, I though this was the least I could do to repay you." He reached into his sleeve pocket and handed her the scroll. "It’s my own composition," he added.

She took the scroll and opened it. It read:

True friends are a treasure.

Contentment flows from them.

A gift from the gods.

She fought back the tears she felt coming to her eyes, then said, "Oibore-san, please forgive my harshness. This scroll—I don’t know what to say…. It’s something I will always treasure." Then she rose from her seat, took his hand, and squeezed it. "Thank you so much."

"Takani-chan," Oibore said, returning the squeeze, "I am so sorry about your friend." Then he turned to leave.

"Oibore-san," Megumi called after him, "please, feel free to stop by here whenever you want. I would be honored to have you visit."

Oibore bowed his head, then left.

Half an hour later, he reached his final destination—Rakuninmura. He remembered the last time he had sought this place. It had been a time of grief, after Tomoe and Enishi had disappeared 14 years ago. It seemed it would be a time of grief once again. He reached into his small bag to make sure he still had his provisions. Before leaving Kyoto, Hiro and Fat Boy had given him a gift of some salted fish and rice balls to help smooth his way into the land of the destitute. ‘Oh, well,’ he said to himself, taking a deep breath, ‘here goes nothing.’

Wearing his most benign smile, he walked into the ramshackle area, singing, "Oh well, what the hell…. Oh well, what the hell…."

"Oi, old man, whatcha think you’re doing here?" Four burly men surrounded Oibore, and it wasn’t good cheer that was in their eyes.

"Maa, maa," Oibore smiled. "I’m just an old man down on my luck, looking for a place to stay…."

That line had worked many a time for him, but these men weren’t buying it. They moved in closer, in a threatening way.

"Hey, he’s got a bag with him," one of them said.

"Yeah, we ought to take a look," another added ominously.

Oibore looked around at the men, trying his best to appear harmless. ‘This crowd is a lot rougher than I expected,’ he thought nervously.

"Hey, you guys, back off!" a voiced ordered. "This guy’s gotta be a hundred, if he’s a day. Go crawl back into your holes."

"Aw, Kuma, you take all the fun out of life," one of them grumbled.

"Thank you so much, Kuma-san," Oibore said after the four had left. "I was beginning to get a little worried there."

"Kuma-san, eh? Awfully polite, aren’t you?" the man called Kuma replied.

"Old habits die hard when you’re my age," Oibore replied with a smile. "But if you’d like to know what I’ve got in this bag, it’s something to share. I never go anywhere empty-handed."

"Old man, you’ve just won yourself a lifelong friend!"

Within minutes, Oibore found himself surrounded by six or seven men, all part of Kuma’s circle of acquaintances.

"Say," said one of them, "think we should invite that other newcomer over?"

"Oh, so you’ve got another newcomer besides me?" Oibore said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, some down-and-out samurai," Kuma said. "Came in a day or two ago all bloodied up. Hasn’t said a word to anyone, hasn’t eaten or nothin’. Yeah, we ought to try asking again."

‘A bloodied samurai?’ Oibore thought. ‘It couldn’t be….’

"I’ll do it," Oibore said, "as one newcomer to another. Where is this down-and-out samurai?"

They pointed down the alley toward a wall. There he saw a form partially slumped over. As he neared it, in the fading light, he could make out what looked like red hair. His heart started racing. As he got nearer, he saw, on the left cheek, an X-shaped scar. He bent down for a closer look. There was no doubt about it—-this bloodied samurai had to be his son-in-law, Himura Kenshin. He was covered in dried blood from a fresh, huge gash across his chest and under his arm, and Oibore could see the remnants of an old bandage just above his waist. It was the location of the bandage Toshiro had told him about two months ago.

‘My god,’ Oibore thought. ‘He hasn’t even fully recovered from Kyoto yet. How did he manage to drag himself here?’ Then he stood up and yelled back to his circle of new acquaintances.

"Oi, have you guys seen his condition? He’s a mess!"

"Yeah," said Kuma, who was now walking towards him, "but you know the rules here—no one bothers us, we don’t bother no one."

"Well, don’t you think this is a bit different?" Oibore pressed. "I mean, this guy needs a doctor!"

"Well, then, he should’ve dragged himself off to one!" said one of the other men, and the rest agreed.

"Oh, well, what the hell," said Oibore, smiling despite his concern. "As one newcomer to another, maybe I’ll just take care of him a little."

"You can if you want, old man," said Kuma. "No sweat off our back. By the way, we saved you some food. Thanks for dinner."

Who could think of food at a time like this? Oibore didn’t know much about doctoring, but he could tell when a man was in dire straits, and Kenshin fit that description. A quick glance around showed that there was nothing he could use for bandages, and he couldn’t afford to rip his own clothes to make any. He did, however, have a handkerchief in his sleeve pocket. ‘I can at least use this to clean him up,’ Oibore thought quickly. ‘I’ve got to keep that gash from getting infected!’

It may have been 14 years since he had last been at Rakuninmura, but he still remembered every twist and turn, so it didn’t take long to find the pipe that provided what little clean water there was. He grabbed one of the small buckets by the pipe, filled it, and ran back to where Kenshin lay. He soaked the handkerchief in water, then started to gently clean the wounds. It was a testament to the critical condition Kenshin was in that, at first, these efforts elicited barely a moan. The work was slow-going, as it took time to loosen the blood that had dried all over his chest and sides, and Oibore had to stop frequently to rinse the handkerchief. After fifteen minutes or so, however, things were looking much better, and he could see that, thankfully, no infection had set in yet.

Kenshin’s eyes started to open slightly. Oibore could see he was trying to focus, but he wasn’t succeeding. "Hurts," Kenshin moaned. "No more."

Oibore took Kenshin’s hand in his. "Young fellow," he said softly, "you deserve better than this." He spent the night next to Kenshin, looking for all the world like a besotted old man who just couldn’t move any farther, but in reality keeping a close eye on the man breathing so raggedly next to him.

As daylight came, he was able to get a better look at his daughter’s husband, and what he saw was not good. There were dark circles under Kenshin’s eyes, and his lips were cracked and dry. Oibore remembered the men saying last night that the newcomer hadn’t had anything to eat or drink that they knew of, and he quickly determined that Kenshin was becoming dehydrated. So, he took his bloodied handkerchief and the bucket and headed back to the pipe. There he rinsed them both out, then brought a bucket of clean water back to where Kenshin lay. After soaking the handkerchief in the clean water, he gently lifted it to Kenshin’s mouth.

"Here," he said gently. "Just suck on this."

Maybe it was just a reflex, maybe not, but Kenshin allowed the handkerchief into his mouth and sucked weakly on it. Oibore kept this up for several minutes, noting that with each rewetting of the handkerchief, Kenshin’s mental state seemed to improve. After about a half an hour of doing this, Kenshin actually opened his eyes and was able to focus. Oibore noticed his hand tighten briefly on the hilt of the sword at his side, a sword that was wrapped in chains.

"Glad to see you come to," Oibore said with a smile.

"Leave me," Kenshin whispered hoarsely. "Not worth it."

"Oho," Oibore laughed, "that’s where you’re wrong. Looks like you and I are going to be pals for awhile."

As Kenshin closed his eyes once more, Oibore got up to see if he could find a little breakfast.

"Looks like you’ve found a pet," Kuma chuckled as he saw Oibore walking towards him.

"Oh, well, what the hell," Oibore said with a laugh. "What are old men for except to take care of the young folks. I don’t suppose there’s a bit of rice left?"

He gratefully took a tiny dumpling that Kuma offered, then said, "You know, I’ll bet there are people worried about this young guy. Maybe when you folks go gambling and drinking today, someone could put out the word?"

Kuma just grunted, but finally he said, "Oh, I suppose."

Oibore took that as a yes, then went back to sit beside Kenshin. He stayed there for the rest of the day and the next, occasionally offering him the wet handkerchief and then, when dinner turned out to be a soup, a bit of soup as well.

On the third day, he heard a commotion at the entrance to Rakuninmura. He got up to see what was going on, only to be pushed roughly aside as a group of residents armed with sticks started chasing a tall man with wild hair. He recognized the man immediately—Kenshin’s friend Sano. Sano grabbed Kenshin by his gi, hauling him up to his feet before Oibore could stop him.

"Let’s go!" Sano yelled at Kenshin. "Get up! We’re going to kill Yukishiro Enishi! We’re taking revenge for Jou-chan!"

Megumi, the boy Yahiko, and a young girl he had never seen before rushed up after him. "Sanosuke!" Megumi screamed as Sano punched Kenshin in the face.

The crowd of men started closing in on Sano even as he threatened to beat them up. They stopped when Megumi pulled him away.

Kenshin slumped back against the wall. "No more," he groaned. "Tired. Let me sleep…."

When Oibore saw Megumi, he hid behind a group of onlookers—he didn’t know why he cared, but he didn’t want her to know that this was where he was staying. He watched as she and the others left. He mentally thanked Kuma for spreading the word—how else would they have known where to find Kenshin? He decided to pay a visit to the young doctor in the near future, if only to set her mind at ease about Kenshin.

‘Anyway, I can’t stay here all the time,’ he reminded himself. ‘My well-being here depends on what I can bring back to eat!’

He waited until afternoon to leave, to make sure that Kenshin would be all right. He left a bucket of clean water beside him, along with a small cup and the handkerchief. "You just take a sip or two every once in awhile while I’m gone," Oibore whispered into Kenshin’s ear. Then he went to Kuma, whom he now considered a friend.

"Kuma," he said with false heartiness, "it’s time this old man went and showed you young ‘uns how to really scavenge for food! I’ll be back in a day or two, but while I’m gone, think you could keep an eye on that young fellow over there? Maybe leave a bit of food or something next to him?"

"He ain’t gonna eat it, ya’ know," Kuma said, "Seems like a real waste of food, but yeah, I’ll do it. You just better come through with something spectacular, otherwise I’m gonna take it outta your hide!" It was said with a smile. ‘That old guy’s too nice to these bums,’ Kuma thought to himself as he watched Oibore walk away.

Japanese Terms:

Bakufu: name for the old Shogunate government.
Maa maa: "Now, now… ."


Author’s Note: Some of you asked for two short chapters, some for one long chapter, so I’ve accommodated all of you by posting Chapters 7 and 8 (the end of the tale) at the same time!


CoConspirator: *clutches handkerchief* Oibore is so fatherly. *blows nose, slowly gathering composure* On a not so sentimental note: Wow, this chapter had an all-star cast, Sano, Megumi, Yahiko, and…..SAITOU!!!!!! (I love Saitou, he’s such a jerk!)
Previous chapter ::: Author's page ::: Post a review at FFnet ::: Main fan fic index ::: Next chapter