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The Choshu Chronicles: Chapter Seventeen

by Omasu Oniwabanshi ::: 2005

When Kenshin and Takahata returned to the road they found Izo, one sleeve of his kimono top pulled off his wounded shoulder, being bandaged by a squad member. Sitting next to him was Gombei, the rifleman with the broken leg. Someone had already put a rough splint on it.

"Let it alone, it hurts!" The other squad member who fell with the tree was using his good arm to smack at the hands of the squad member who'd climbed down from his tree.

"If you leave it like that it'll hurt more." The uninjured one told him. "Now give it here."

He reached for his friend's injured arm, grabbed it by the hand and, bracing his foot against the other's torso, gave a quick tug.

His friend screamed and fainted, though Kenshin noted that the dislocated shoulder was now back in place.

"Takahata. Where's the leader?" asked Izo, sitting on the ground, his back against one of the boulders they'd used to try to shield their presence from the bandits.

"I…had to kill him." Takahata said.

Izo closed his eyes and swore. "Takasugi isn't going to like this." He opened his eyes again. "Or the fact that we were the ones who were ambushed."

Takasugi prostrated himself, kneeling on the ground and bowing low. "It is all my fault," he said, directing his words into the dirt. "I should have known at the tavern that they were speaking loudly so that I would overhear their plans. I was foolish. People must have remembered my questions and told the bandits I was interested. Please forgive me."

"Oh get up." said Izo tiredly. "Takasugi doesn't go for humility. Just tell him straight what happened when we get back. Now let's get out of here."

And so they did. It took several days of dealing with the Iwakuni officials, but the bodies were cleared out of the forest. Some were even identified as local ne'er do wells. The bandit leader, however, was a stranger. When Gombei's broken leg was properly set and healed enough for him to ride, they set off on their journey back home to Yamaguchi.

They reported directly to Takasugi, who happened to be surveying Murata's training method on the practice fields outside of Yamaguchi at the time. He walked away from the field to meet with them. The muted sound of gunfire punctuated their conversation.

"We failed." Izo, the squad leader, said succinctly.

Takasugi glared. "What happened?"

Izo ran through the events of that evening as he knew them, making his wound from the bullet of one of his fellow squad members sound as if it had been his own fault rather than his subordinate's. Kenshin's name came up a lot. Takasugi glanced at him sharply when he heard how many men Kenshin killed. Kenshin met his eyes calmly, giving him the blank expression he perfected when he was Batoussai. Takasugi dipped his chin slightly in approval. Kenshin had passed his test.

When Izo got to the part where his men lost the last few bandits, Takahata took up the narrative.

Standing stiff-backed, Takahata tried to copy Izo's manner of speaking, and began crisply.

"When I saw that our snipers were in danger from fire I ran in that direction. I stopped when gunfire blocked the path. I saw the bandit leader. Taking cover, I moved toward him. When the riflemen ran after the others, I followed him. I found him in a clearing. He'd been shot in his sword arm. He took out a dagger and charged. I had to kill him."

"He charged you with just a dagger?" Takasugi asked derisively.

Takahata flushed. "Yes." His voice was now less certain.

Takasugi cleared his throat, swallowing a cough, and glared.

Takahata stared at the ground. "I am short." he admitted. "Though I am a samurai, people tend to underestimate me." Since he was staring at the ground, he missed seeing Takasugi glancing at Kenshin, who was about the same height, and raising his eyebrows.

"So, the bandit leader and most of his followers are dead, and the three survivors are long gone." Takasugi summed up their report in one sentence, his tone once again derisive.

Takahata's head shot up. "They were just scum. It wasn't as if they were samurai. Of course we killed them."

"And our chances of finding out who was behind it. Well done." Sarcasm became coughing, and Takasugi covered his mouth with a handkerchief, nearly bending double with the force of it.

"Go!" he muttered from around the fabric, and waved them away. As Kenshin turned to walk away, he saw Takasugi pull the handkerchief away from his mouth. Blood stained the white fabric. No wonder Takasugi waved them away so peremptorily. He hated it when his illness made him appear weak.

Takahata walked quickly away. Realizing that he wished to be alone, Kenshin took a slower pace and a more circuitous route back to the inn.

As he arrived, Shunme was leaving.

"Kenshin! I'm glad I saw you." Shunme said, pausing in his route across the courtyard, a bundle of belongings in his hand. "I'm off on an errand for Katsura that'll take a few days. How did your mission go?"

Kenshin glanced over Shunme's shoulder to where Takahata and Nakamura were talking quietly on the porch, standing carefully apart from the common soldiers as usual.

"We failed. The leader and most of the bandits were killed."

Shunme's face twisted in sympathy. "Well cheer up. At least bandits won't bother the folks in Iwakuni again for a while. Oh, that reminds me. I've an update on Ryoma."

"Oh?"

"He's recovered from his wounds at Teradaya. Remind me to tell you the rest of the story sometime. He's back to his old self, trying to buy another ship for his beloved Kameyama Company, and yelling at his men over Chojiro."

"Chojiro?" For a moment, Kenshin didn't place the name.

"Remember that ceremony last year? Chojiro was given a sword by our Daimyo because he brokered the deal that got us the steamship called the Union."

"Yes." Kenshin had met Chojiro by the koi pond outside the government building.

"Well, he's dead. Seppuku. Ryoma about took the others' heads off for driving him to it." Shunme started backing away toward the gate. "Sorry, I've got to go. I'll tell you more when I get back." He turned around and darted out of the courtyard and down the street.

Chojiro.

Kenshin could see the man in his memory, smiling sadly over the fact that he didn't dare wear his new sword because it would cause jealousy. Chojiro had spoken of going to America or Europe where things were different. Chojiro was a bean jam maker's son, newly raised to samurai status, and resented for it. Kenshin wondered what slights he'd had to endure when he'd returned to Nagasaki bearing the sword.

Steeling himself, Kenshin walked across the courtyard and up the porch steps. As he crossed the porch, he glanced at Takahata, who looked through him as if he didn't exist.

Their mission together changed nothing. Takahata was still a samurai and Kenshin wasn't.

Kenshin kept walking.