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Tanabata Jasmine: Chapter 8 - Suspicion

by Nekotsuki

With confirmation of an attack, they searched the area frantically.  Hampered by a twisted ankle, Kaoru sank to her knees and dug her fingers through mud and water in an attempt to find other clues.  Sanosuke ranged further through the trees, looking for other, more obvious signs.  Scored bark on other trees.  A discarded weapon.  Even – and he dreaded this potential discovery – a body.

He found none of these things.  Armed with the knowledge that a recent fight had taken place, his gaze swept along the ground more analytically, and noted the signs of upheaval in the mud.  He was no tracker, but he certainly had imagination.  That deep depression in the mud, gradually filling with water – had someone fallen?  A few footprints here and there had survived the downpour, but gave no indication of how many there had been, or what had happened … or where the ambushers had left to afterwards.  Try as he might, he couldn’t find anything resembling a trail, leading away from here.  They’d obviously been careful on the way back, past his ability to find them.

It pissed him off.

He trailed back to Kaoru and found her still on her knees.  Her back was to him, shoulders hunched in a quiet stillness that he suddenly found ominous.  He crossed the last distance between them swiftly, and crouched down next to her.  “Oi.  Jou-chan.  You alright?”

“He’s hurt,” she said softly.  Her hands were folded in her lap, curled into loose fists.

“You don’t know that.”

In response, she lifted her hands and held them out to him, unfurling them one at a time.  Sano recognised the leather tie, neatly severed, with enough of Kenshin’s hair remaining with it that the mud had clotted it together in a thin, dirty thread.  In her other hand, she held a torn scrap of material.  Filthy, but Kaoru had made a vague attempt to wash it clean in a nearby puddle.  The colour clearly showed through as the fuchsia the rurouni was so (oddly) fond of wearing.  Blood stained it through; weakened and washed out by the rain, but nevertheless it was there.

He fought back the urge to curse aloud, and instead shook his head, searching for something to say that would be remotely reassuring.  Kaoru’s gaze shifted to the stab wounds in the tree.  Her face was tight and pale, but at least she hadn’t gone to pieces.

“It’s not a lot of blood,” he managed at last.  “He’s had far worse.  C’mon, Jou-chan.  Don’t panic.  Kenshin’s not the type of guy to be taken down by a bunch of bandits.”

“Then where is he?”  He snapped his mouth shut, taken by surprise.  He’d never heard that tone of voice from Kaoru before – low and sharp as a whip crack.  He drew back from her as she rose to her feet, her fists clenched over her discoveries, and turned sharply to face him.  He saw the struggle in her face, then; growing fear, warring with the need for self control.  “Where, Sanosuke?  Why didn’t he come home?”

“I don’t know,” he replied bluntly.  “But yelling at me isn’t going to do anything more than waste time.” She stared at him as if she’d been slapped.  He plunged ahead before she could return the favour.  “Look, the best thing we can do is head for home.  In case you haven’t noticed, your clumsiness got you hurt, and Kenshin would kill me if I didn’t make sure you got treated.  Also,” and he continued in a softer tone, “If Kenshin was hurt badly enough, he may have just headed back to Megumi during the night.  So we deal with your ankle, and talk to the kitsune, and maybe we’ll have something more to go on.”

He almost laughed, watching her expression through his little speech range from shocked, to insulted, to relieved, and now to skeptical.  Instead, he offered her his arm.  “We’ll move faster if you lean on me.”

She took it without hesitation, this time, fingers jabbing ruthlessly into his shoulder as she leaned against him.  Punishment for the clumsiness jibe, at a guess.  He winced dramatically, and was rewarded with her faint smirk.  Much better, Jou-chan.  “Come on,” he said aloud.  “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

They found their way back to the path in silence, more slowly than before.  The treacherous ground had been difficult enough without a sprain to contend with; Sano contemplated just picking Kaoru up and slinging her over his shoulder in order to make better time.  It was an amusing thought that faded as his mind took him down other paths.

Kenshin wasn’t the type to be taken down by a bunch of bandits.  Sanosuke was almost positive that the trip to Megumi was going to be a dead end – if Kenshin had turned up on the clinic’s doorstep last night, she would most likely have sent notice.  And if Kenshin hadn’t fronted back in town, well, that meant that he had lost the fight.

This meant that whoever attacked him last night knew enough about the Battousai’s capabilities to take him down.  A planned ambush.  The entire thing had to have been staged; too coincidental, that Kenshin had been attacked while outside the gates of Tokyo, on his way to …

… duel a merchant with apparent Battousai issues.

His eyes narrowed as he contemplated that fact.  Could he believe in that coincidence?  That on the same night Kenshin was lured from the city for a duel, his enemies had chosen to strike?

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He had just finished packing what meager belongings he had when he heard the rumblings of a carriage approaching from the east.

Senzo tilted his head to the side, listening intently as horses whickered to a stop.  Booted feet splashed down into the mud and strode purposefully towards the cottage.  His visitor didn’t bother knocking, but opened the door and stood patiently, waiting to be acknowledged.

“You’re late back,” Senzo said pleasantly.  “I’ve just had some unexpected guests.”

“It’s hard to navigate this path after a storm,” was the calm response.

“Ah, sou ka.  It matters little.  If you’d been here any earlier, things might have grown complicated.  Tell me, how is Hiro?”

“Awake,” Yoshida said. “In pain, but he’ll live.”

“Then no casualties,” Senzo mused.  “How very successful of me.  Come in, I’ll need your strong arms.”

Yoshida raised an eyebrow but made no comment, stepping inside the cottage fully and letting the door swing shut behind him as the merchant knelt by the edge of the futon and touched cool, efficient fingers to Kenshin’s forehead.

The man had developed a slight fever in the night, no doubt caused by the combination of the heavy, soaking rain and the injuries he’d been dealt by Yoshida’s group.  Senzo had cleansed and bandaged the deep cut on his left shoulder, and bound his right arm in a sling to his side.  Though he regretted the need for injury at all, he couldn’t deny that the broken collarbone his unwilling guest suffered would make him far easier to manage.  “I do wish you’d taken better care carrying him back last night.  You might have done permanent damage.”

“He took down three of my men,” Yoshida replied evenly.  “I feel no need to treat him delicately.”

“Then I hope your anger has been sufficiently appeased, Yoshida-kun.”  He smiled slightly as he reached across Kenshin for the trailing edge of the blanket, tucking it across the redhead’s slim shoulders.  He found the other edge and did the same.  “I’m moving him now.  His friends came looking for him, not half an hour ago.  I’ll need you to take him down to the ship.  Make sure his hair isn’t seen, eh?  It’s not exactly a common colour.”

“What about you?”

“The ship doesn’t leave until tomorrow,” Senzo stood up.  “I’ll join you by then.  I have other arrangements to make in the meantime.  If you’re worried about him making trouble, don’t be.  Himura shouldn’t awaken for some time.”

Yoshida merely nodded, before leaning down to hoist Kenshin, blankets and all, roughly into his arms.  Senzo held the door open for him, and then retreated back inside to collect the sakabatou from its resting spot on the table.  By the time he returned outside, Yoshida had closed and locked the carriage door, bundle safely within.  The other man turned and – with a surprised look – caught the sheathed sword flung carelessly towards him.

“A bonus for your injured men,” Senzo explained.  “It’s one of a kind, and I know you like to collect.  Just make sure it goes nowhere near the Battousai, Yoshida-kun.  Take no chances.”

There was a brief silence as they considered each other across the narrow space.  Then, with a cheerful wave, Senzo vanished back into the cottage, door closing behind him as Yoshida took the reins, and urged the horses on towards the city.