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Tanabata Jasmine: Chapter 14 - The Cat

by Nekotsuki ::: 25.Aug.2004

Kenshin dozed for the next few hours, giving in to the heavy drowsiness that plagued him. There seemed little other option, for the moment. Even if he managed to break down the door and fight his way through an unknown number of crew, the result would still be unfavourable. He had never tried to navigate anything larger than a rowboat – there hadn’t seemed much call for it, no matter what his profession at the time. Trying to do so, as a novice with only one strong arm, would be sheerest folly.

Thus, he slept in an effort to recover his equilibrium. The merchant’s sake had left him uncomfortably weak and lethargic, and Kenshin did not like feeling so vulnerable even when among friends, let alone a boat full of hostile strangers. His mind was clear now, at least. Both a blessing and a curse, to be lucid and aware of his circumstances without the strength to change the situation.

He woke, finally, to the sound of a key in the lock, and opened his eyes as light flared once again across the room. Two men stared at him from the doorway, and he tensed, until he realised one was carrying a large jug, which he placed on the cupboard. The large man who lingered at the door, candle in hand, was familiar to him. He sorted through the jumbled headache of his memories, and came up with a name, called in self-righteous fury by the man who had finally struck him down.

“Yoshida,” he said softly.

They both stiffened as he spoke. Yoshida glanced at the other man, and gestured him outside with a toss of his head before approaching the bed. The door closed gently behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Kenshin frowned as he took in the other man’s appearance. Yoshida’s sword hand was wrapped tightly, bandaged from wrist to fingertip. It puzzled him. Try as he might, he could not recall striking the man at all.

Yoshida noted his gaze, and shook his head. “It wasn’t you,” he said flatly. “What do you want?”

“The man sessha struck in the throat.” His voice was strong and clear, which was a relief. A vast improvement over his earlier conversation with Senzo. “Did he recover?”

Yoshida blinked, and stared at him suspiciously. “Aa. He is sore, but there is no permanent damage.”

“That’s good to know.” Kenshin closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the other man’s boots on the planking as he headed for the door.

As the door creaked open, Yoshida spoke again. “The water is not drugged. If you wish, I will drink some myself to reassure you.”

“No need,” he replied serenely. “Arigatou.”

There was a faint snort, and then the door swung shut as Yoshida departed, locking him in and taking the candle away.

Kenshin waited until the sound of footsteps had faded before opening his eyes to the gloom. The darkness was not absolute; after a few moments, his sight adjusted enough to be able to pick out the edges of the cupboard and the chair in the room.

His head still ached abominably, but he suspected that was now more a product of dehydration than anything else. The nausea had long faded. He extricated himself from the blankets, relishing the freedom of movement and the feel of fresh air on his limbs as he swung upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. The movement caused the pain behind his eyes to spike and he winced, holding still until it subsided to manageable levels. He would thank Senzo for the water, even if the man deserved nothing else.

Even without Yoshida’s attempt at assurance, he would drink the water. While he had no doubt at all that the merchant would attempt to drug him for the journey on to land, he suspected that his life was currently too valuable to Senzo to risk his health by keeping him unconscious for a lengthy period of time. Just why he was wanted alive was a mystery to him, but he wasn’t about to complain. If Senzo had been hired to kill him, he would be dead by now. It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Even less comforting was the state of his shoulder. Kenshin raised slim fingers to trace along the ridge of the collarbone, a delicate touch across skin to the restriction of the bandaging. The ache of the injury was dull, which was a good sign considering the short period of time that had passed. He pressed his hand gently across the shoulder, and bit back a soft cry as pain surged in response. Definitely broken. Whoever had punched him this ... morning? ... probably hadn’t helped matters. To his less than expert senses, the break seemed clean; would be, if he’d received the injury as the result of the flat of a blade, which he suspected. At best, he would be able to remove the arm from its strapped sling in a couple of weeks.

Time he obviously wasn’t going to have. He cursed softly in the darkness. The loss of his right arm was going to pose difficulties. Certainly, it would make his efforts a lot more troublesome.

He wondered what had become of the sakabatou. Whether he would have time to look for it when he made his bid for freedom.

He wondered what his friends were doing now. Guilt fluttered in his stomach at the thought of Kaoru’s worried face. Forgive me, Kaoru-dono. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

---------

The two swordsmen were identified as brothers. Aki and Hiro were their names, and it was Hiro – the man in grey with the sakabatou welt across his throat – who volunteered the information in his hoarse and damaged voice.

It was the only thing Hiro confessed to, however. His brother Aki was the one who finally broke, nearly a full day after the confrontation with Yoshida. Trading insults first with the police officer in charge, and then with Sanosuke when he and Kaoru were present at the second attempt at interrogation, he finally offered an exchange: information on the merchant’s plans for their freedom. It was evening on the day of his offer before it was accepted, to the incredulity of Sano.

“You’re just gonna let ‘em go?” He slammed his hands down on the desk and glared down at the man sitting on the opposite side. “Don’t the words ‘kidnap’ and ‘attempted murder’ mean anything to you people?”

“They mean a great deal,” the officer – Sano thought his name was Hiyama, from vague recollection – replied stiffly. “But this agreement comes from my superiors. If these two provide us with the information we require, we have been ordered to turn them loose.”

“That’s not good enough, you—“

“Sanosuke.” Again, Kaoru interrupted him with a hand on his arm. “If the offer isn’t taken, then we won’t find out what we need.”

“Let me into the cell,” he offered in return, grinning. “I’ll beat it out of them.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Sagara-san.” They turned at the voice. Uramura, Chief of Police, closed the door to the office behind him, and smiled politely. “I have allowed you and the lady to be present for this matter out of courtesy for our past dealings with Himura-san. I would rather you did not make me regret it. I’m stretching the rules as it is.”

Kaoru bowed quickly, her fingers digging into Sano’s arm in warning. “Arigatou. Sanosuke won’t step out of line.” She glared at him. “Right?”

Sano winced, staring down into her face. It was the hellish bruise across her cheek that made him back down, he decided. He couldn’t find the heart to argue with a woman who looked like she’d just fought her way through a bar full of sailors.

“...Right,” he muttered.

They followed the two police officers through the halls to the prison cells. Kaoru still leaned on Sano’s arm; although her ankle seemed better today, despite her violent meeting with Yoshida. Yahiko was another matter. With the ugly welts on his throat from the press of fingernails, and the vaguely unfocused nature of his eyes, Megumi had confined him – amidst tirades of abuse – to the clinic for observation.

Yoshida had a meeting with Sano’s fists coming. Strangling a kid and punching a woman – kenjutsu instructor or no – were the acts of a man that desperately deserved a beating, at the very least.

Once Aki was told of his impending release, he became utterly cooperative. Disturbingly so, in Sano’s opinion. The little bastard’s face lit up with insufferable satisfaction; if it hadn’t been for the Chief’s presence in front of him, and Kaoru’s death grip on his arm, he might have accepted being thrown out of the police station just so he could wipe the smirk from his face with a punch or two.

“The merchant’s name is Senzo Karanai,” Aki began, interrupting Sano’s thoughts. “He’s exactly what he says he is – it’s just that he trades in people, as well as silks. Someone will pay him to collect a target, and he’ll do it.”

“He’s a bounty hunter,” Sano muttered.

“Aa,” nodded the other man. “Your Battousai isn’t the first person he’s taken. He’s just the most famous. Senzo had to go all out for him.”

Hiyama took notes, barely looking up. “Who is he working for?”

Aki shrugged. “That’s not the sort of thing that gets passed on to people like us.” He smirked. “Don’t bother asking what they want with the hitokiri. I don’t know that, either. What I do know is that Senzo was taking him to Kyoto to organise an exchange for the rest of our money. Are you satisfied?”

Sano scowled. “Watch your tone, Blue. So far you haven’t told us anything that useful.”

“I’ve given you a place to look,” he retorted. “You didn’t have that before.”

Hiyama rapped his notebook. “How were they travelling?”

Aki grinned widely. “By boat. You’ve missed them by almost a day.”

---------

Fifteen minutes later, Sanosuke slouched on the street, waiting for Kaoru to exit the police station. Negotiations had broken down when he lost his temper at the prisoner; it had taken both Hiyama and the Chief to pull him off the bastard when it was clear he’d deliberately delayed confession long enough to give the merchant time to leave. He supposed he couldn’t blame them for throwing him out. He was lucky they didn’t arrest him, really.

A hand smacked him lightly in the back of the head. “Baka,” muttered Kaoru. “Couldn’t hold your temper in, could you?”

He grinned. “But I notice you dropped your hand from my arm just before I went for him. Don’t tell me you’re sorry I punched him, Jou-chan. I won’t believe you.” The flush on her cheeks proved him right. “So. What else did I miss?”

She fell into step beside him, speaking quietly. “The Chief is going to try and get word to the police in Osaka. If Senzo is going by boat, it’s where he’ll make port. And ...” She took a breath. “Kenshin probably can’t fight. Aki broke his collar bone when they attacked him.”

He chewed over that a few moments, and made a decision: if he ran into Aki outside of the station, the man would wish he’d been locked away for life by the time Sano was done with him. He was still having difficulty believing the police had agreed to let them go free for such a small amount of information. Both of them. Something was up. Did they have friends in high places? Or did the police have something to gain from their release? It made his head ache.

Nothing much he could do about that side of things. But ... “So, that’s what the police are doing,” he said casually. “What about us?”

“You have to ask?” she snapped, glancing up at him. “We’re going to Kyoto. We’re going to find Kenshin, and then I’m going to give him a piece of my mind for making us worry so much.”

Sanosuke grinned again. “Sounds like fun.”

---------

The next two days passed smoothly, under hot sun and fine sailing weather. Mindful of good manners, Senzo organised rice to be taken down to his guest, and as much water as the man wanted to drink.

He chose to avoid Kenshin’s room himself, after his second visit. Despite Senzo’s cheer and confident grasp of the upper hand, that level stare had been discomfiting. Dressed only in his mud-stained hakama, unkempt hair a mass of fire across his shoulders, Kenshin had adopted a casual position, his back to the wall as he sat on the bed, resting his good arm on his knees. The redhead seemed far too relaxed for the situation he was in.

And yet, when Senzo had walked in that second time, his violet gaze had snapped up to meet his with an intensity that had him backing up to the door before he even realised what he was doing. He’d forced himself to remain out of pride, indulging in casual small talk as he collected the empty water jug. Kenshin had watched him in silence, expression unchanging, until he had walked from the room.

He’d made an enemy of the man, which was to be expected given the circumstances, but Senzo couldn’t quell the mild feeling of regret. He hadn’t lied; he liked the brief conversations he’d had with Kenshin. Had liked putting him on the spot in the market place, teasing him about the woman. Had liked the honour the man had shown in the duel outside the cottage.

It didn’t change anything, of course. They would arrive in port tomorrow afternoon, and the next jug of water Kenshin received would put him under long enough for them to reach Kyoto in safety. Any feelings of regret after that would be drowned quite satisfactorily with the other half of his fee.