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The Choshu Chronicles: Chapter Nine

by Omasu Oniwabanshi ::: 16.Jan.2005

The light was fading. The sun would be gone soon. Orange glinted off the tiled roof of the warehouse building down by the Shimonoseki docks where Katsura was finishing up his last transaction. It was November now, and there was a chill in the air.

Kenshin resisted the urge to stick his hands in his kimono sleeves to keep them warm as he paced up and down before the wood and plaster building. Nakamura was inside with Katsura. Earlier, Shunme and Takahata had accompanied Katsura to the usual mansion for a meeting with Ryoma and his friend Chojiro, who'd brought Choshu's new warship, the Union, to Shimonoseki from Nagasaki.

Kenshin found that he was disappointed that he'd missed seeing Ryoma again. The man was weird, but his ideas were interesting. He wondered how Chojiro had fared with his jealous comrades back in Nagasaki when he returned with a sword given to him by Choshu's main lord. He shrugged off the thought. It wasn't as if Nakamura would bother to talk to a non-samurai like him, even if he asked how the meeting had gone.

The door of the warehouse opened, and Katsura backed out, his outline framed by the light within.

He moved his head to throw a last comment inside. "Yes, that makes 2,400 bushels total. It must be sent to Satsuma by the end of the season."

The merchant inside the warehouse murmured an indistinguishable reply. Katsura bowed, and stepped out of the doorway, Nakamura closely following.

Nodding at Kenshin, he set off down the dark street. Kenshin fell in behind Nakamura as he passed. As was his custom following a long meeting, Katsura spoke quietly to Nakamura of other affairs. Nakamura wasn't happy about having any part of sending rice to Satsuma, and sensitive despite his weariness, Katsura set about getting his mind off it.

"Hold it right there, you traitor!"

A man wearing a dark brown kimono top and black hakama stepped into the street, blocking their way.

Kenshin's sword was drawn and in his hand a few seconds before Nakamura, who stepped immediately in front of Katsura, placing his body between Katsura and the newcomer.

"Who are you?" Katsura's voice rang out without the slightest hint of fear.

"A patriot, unlike you!" The man spat. "With you out of the way, the rightful government can take back control of Choshu."

Kenshin's eyes flicked back and forth. The ambush, if that's what it was, was well planned. The street here was narrow, buildings set so close together that while no other assailants could be hiding between them, it also meant that Katsura would not be able to escape between them either.

Katsura's voice went on, speaking in a reasonable, if slightly impatient tone. "And then what? Hand Choshu back to the Bakufu? Do you really think that will stop the second expedition? The shogun is out for Choshu's complete destruction. Handing control back to you lot won't do anything to stop that."

"Hah! That's what you think!"

The would-be assassin sounded confident, too confident to be alone. As battousai, Kenshin executed his victims by himself, his confidence coming from his Hiten Mitsurugiryu training and the ease of long practice, but he hadn't been as shrill or as confrontational as this one. If the man had partners, they weren't hiding between the buildings. That left the rooftops.

Kenshin pivoted so that his back was to Katsura, and scanned the rooftops on either side. There he was, a second assassin, crouched down at the roof's edge.

"Now!" Screamed the first man.

The second assassin dropped to the street, the sword in his hand glinting. As he landed, Kenshin struck, running forward and swinging his katana horizontally as he passed. The man's head rolled along the floor, removed from his body by a single swipe of Kenshin's blade.

Jumping down from the roof, unless you landed on an unprepared opponent, left you vulnerable the second after you landed because it took at least a second for most people to get their feet under them and regain a sense of balance. The would-be assassin forgot that, and paid the price.

Behind him, Kenshin heard Nakamura's blade engaging the first man's. He scanned the rooftops one last time, and saw that they were empty. He rushed around Katsura who stood with his hands clenched, swordless, due to his promise to Takasugi to let others fight for him.

Nakamura was holding his own. The two men's blades kissed and slid off each other as they passed, and pivoted to confront one another again. Then the man in brown and black executed a downward slash, forcing Nakamura to raise his blade at an angle to parry it.

As Nakamura lifted his sword, the other man brought his leg forward, kicking him in the kneecap. Nakamura grimaced, but held the block, stepping back and bringing his blade around in a horizontal slash at neck level.

The assassin dropped under Nakamura's katana just in time, and springing up from his crouch, slashed his own sword upward diagonally.

Nakamura's blade was still pointed to the rear, at the tail end of its horizontal slash. Not having time to bring it back around to block his opponent's blade, he did the next best thing and retreated.

Unfortunately for him, he stepped on a patch of loose grains of rice, spilled in the street from some shipment earlier that day. His back heel rolled, and he went down, the very tip assassin's blade catching him across the forehead, spattering blood as he fell.

Nakamura landed on his back, his hands, including the one holding his sword, over his head.

Snarling, the assassin jumped forward, blade poised to thrust into Nakamura's unprotected chest, when he stopped and looked down in surprise at the blade protruding through his own torso.

Kenshin stepped back from the spot where he'd lunged forward only a second before, and drew his katana out of the assassin, who fell dead, and landed face down next to Nakamura.

Whirling at a movement behind Katsura, he rushed several steps past the startled Choshu leader to confront the third and last assailant, who'd been creeping up the street from behind.

Seeing that he'd been discovered, the man raised a bow, already notched with an arrow, and let it loose.

With no time to turn around and shove Katsura out of the way, Kenshin concentrated and brought his sword down at the precise moment the arrow whistled by him.

Two halves, the tip and the feathered end of the arrow, clattered to the ground. The bowman stepped back in shock, inadvertently stepping into a patch of light from a lantern hanging by the doorway of the timbered building next to him. He threw the bow down and ran.

Kenshin was just starting after him when Katsura's voice stopped him. "Kenshin!"

He turned and saw Katsura kneeling by Nakamura, whose face was a mask of blood.

"I can't get the bleeding to stop."

"I'll be fine." growled Nakamura, protesting. "You shouldn't dirty your hands with this."

Kenshin walked back, hearing the sound of hoof beats clattering away. He filed the information away mentally as he stared down at Nakamura.

The cut had pierced flesh, but not bone. Nakamura would live. He handed Katsura a wad of rice paper from his kimono, reserving two sheets for himself. As Katsura placed the wad against Nakamura's wound, Kenshin used a sheet to wipe the blood off his sword before resheathing it, drawing the muni, the dull side of the blade, across the mouth of the sheath in a quick movement before inserting it, tip first.

In a few moments, the rice paper was red with Nakamura's blood, but the bleeding slowed. The surly samurai reached under Katsura's arm and pawed the blood out of his eyes.

"The last one?" asked Katsura softly.

"Got away." said Kenshin.

"Hmm. Did you see his face?"

The image of the man's terrified face came back clearly. He'd seen it distinctly in the lantern's light, a long face with a small mole or perhaps a tiny scar on one cheekbone. The man had gambled everything on his skill with the arrow and he'd lost. The knowledge of that had been apparent in his almond shaped, dark eyes.

"Yes."

Katsura placed Nakamura's hand on top of the rice paper and rose, leaving him to apply pressure himself.

"I didn't see his face." Katsura told Kenshin. "I need to know who he was, and if there are any other Choshu conservatives still out to get me." Katsura let out a breath in a puff of anger. "I thought those potato heads would realize after we wrested control from them that their only option for survival is to fight with us, together, against the Bakufu."

"What do you want me to do?" Kenshin knew, but wanted Katsura to say it, to see how far he'd go in his anger.

"Find him."

"And?"

Katsura sighed, gazing down the street where his would-be killer had disappeared. "You are no longer the hitokiri battousai, Kenshin. I'm not asking you to kill him. Just bring him back."

"For questioning?" Kenshin used the euphemism commonly given for torture.

"That's not your concern." Katsura's voice was sharp, but it softened as he went on. "Most men break at the thought of torture, without ever touching them. Since this one ran, I doubt we'll have to hurt him."

Remembering the terror on the man's face, Kenshin silently agreed.

Something in his face must have told Katsura that he was convinced, for the leader nodded. "Go. Catch up with him. I'll take Nakamura back to the mansion." He raised his voice so that the injured samurai could hear as well. "Now that he can see again, he'll be able to protect me the short way we have left to go." He gave Kenshin a last, speaking glance, forbidding any protest he might make.

Kenshin nodded, and ran off down the street.