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The Choshu Chronicles: Chapter Eighteen

by Omasu Oniwabanshi ::: 2005

April 1866.

Kenshin sat against the wall of the inn, his sheathed sword leaning against his shoulder. In one corner Nakamura and Takahata sat talking. It was rare to see Nakamura at the inn these days. He spent most of his free time away. His face was strained. Kenshin assumed this meant that Tamako, his concubine, was still sick.

The regular soldiers who also lived at the inn with the bodyguards sat in clusters around the floor. One group was near enough for Kenshin to overhear their conversation.

"Murata was sure on a rampage today." The speaker was a thin soldier with an elongated face, which made his expression naturally doleful. He rubbed the top of his head. "I'm still sore where he smacked me with my rifle."

"You're sore? I'm the one with blisters on my trigger finger." The short, stocky soldier with a round baby face held out his hand to be examined.

"Niwa, don't be such a child." A soldier sitting cross-legged with an inscrutable expression and a stern manner reminiscent of a Buddha statue, admonished the baby faced one. "You deserved the extra hour of practice."

The thin one leaned forward. "I know why Murata's so determined lately. The war is coming soon."

Niwa grimaced. "We've been hearing that for months. What are those Bakufu slugs waiting for?"

"I heard that Okubo and Ishio of Satsuma are opposing the invasion. Satsuma is refusing to send troops."

Okubo.

The name was familiar. In Kyoto, four months ago, he'd been with Saigo of Satsuma when Katsura had at last agreed to the secret alliance between Choshu and Satsuma.

The soldier who looked like Buddha cleared his throat. "That is not enough to stop the Bakufu's army. I fear our Daimyo's recent action will only encourage the shogun to send the invasion sooner."

"What action?" Niwa opened his eyes wide.

"The shogun demanded that our Daimyo and his heir report to Hiroshima. It was obvious the shogun planned to take them captive so they didn't go."

"That'll make the shogun mad." Niwa said.

"It'll make him invade!" The thin one grimaced. "And we'll finally get to use Murata's training."

Motion in the doorway made Kenshin look up to see Shunme enter, slip his zori sandals off, and make his way across the tatami mats to where Kenshin sat.

"Did you miss me?" Shunme asked flippantly, as he sat down.

Kenshin merely looked at him.

"I've news of Kurata."

"What is it?" Kenshin gave in and responded.

"While I was out on an errand for Katsura I found out that Ryoma's company bought themselves a wooden ship called the Werewolf, and guess who they chose to be its captain?"

"Kurata."

"Yep. He's never even captained a rowboat before! He'll probably get seasick. I can see it now, Ike Kurata, the only captain on the sea as green as the waves beneath his ship. He'll give new meaning to the words 'heave ho'." Shunme chortled.

For a man who had different loyalities than Kurata, Shunme was remarkably good humored about Kurata's success.

"Is he trustworthy?"

How would Shunme answer that question? Suddenly, Kenshin wanted to know if he'd tell the truth. Back in Kyoto, Kenshin overheard Shunme and Kurata admit to one another that their loyalties were different. What Kenshin couldn't figure out was if Kurata was simply loyal to Ryoma instead of Katsura, or if he was loyal to the Tokugawa shogunate and Shunme was covering for him because he was a friend.

"Huh? Oh, I expect he'll do reasonably well as a sea captain. Ike Kurata was always a quick learner."

"Hmm." Shunme misunderstood the question. It was just as well.

"Hey Kenshin, maybe they'll give us a boat next. I heard Takasugi is going back to Nagasaki to buy a ship from Glover, the arms merchant. He's going to call it "The Year of the Tiger. How do you think I'd look as a captain?" Shunme struck a pose that was pure Sakamoto Ryoma, squinting as if looking into the sun, and pushing out his chest belligerently.

Kenshin stared, unimpressed. Shunme deflated his chest. "One of these days, Kenshin, I'll make you smile."

Nakamura rose suddenly, and pushed blindly past some soldiers, Takahata staring after him from his seat on the floor, mouth agape.

"Move!" Nakamura snarled, and shoved a soldier who was just getting to his feet, back down on the ground.

The soldier's face contorted. Grabbing the katana at his side, he leapt to his feet just as Nakamura made it to the door. The soldier took a step toward Nakamura. With his sheath in his left hand, and his right clutching the hilt, he began to pull his sword out.

Without consciously deciding to move, Kenshin found himself at the soldier's side.

The man froze as Kenshin gripped his right bicep tightly.

"You don't want to do that." He warned the man in a low voice.

The soldier, who was twice Kenshin's size, had sake on his breath. He tried to pull his arm away from Kenshin's grip. Kenshin's hand didn't move.

He opened his mouth to speak, and as he did, his eyes locked on Kenshin's. It was almost comical. He man's expression went from angry to fearful, then back to an angry belligerence brought on by the sake and a need to prove to himself that the fear was misplaced.

Kenshin braced himself, his mind automatically sifting through options to find the best way to strike down his opponent.

"Hey now," Shunme appeared at the man's left side. Adroitly, he gripped the sheath and shoved it upward, re-sheathing the sword from the bottom up. "Don't let Nakamura bother you. He's just a big dumb samurai like me."

The man wrenched his gaze from Kenshin's face and looked over at Shunme with a confused expression. Samurai didn't insult themselves.

Kenshin loosened his grip from the man's arm and stepped back to let Shunme work his magic.

Shunme smiled and clapped the man on the shoulder. "It's inbreeding, don't you know. All the samurai families marry each other until pretty soon every single girl you're allowed to marry turns out to be your cousin! It's awful. Why when I was looking for a wife…."

And off he went, telling story after story about the women he'd pursued during his courting days.

Soon the man was seated back on the tatami mat, another cup of sake in his hand, laughing almost as loudly as Shunme. Kenshin remained standing, watching the big soldier long after he ceased to be a threat to Nakamura.

How did Shunme do it? In the space of a few minutes, he'd convinced the man that they were bosom friends. In fact the entire group of soldiers the man had been sitting with were acting as if they'd known Shunme for years.

Do you trust me, Shunme? Or is that all an act, like the one you're putting on now? Will that drunken soldier ever realized how he'd been manipulated?

Do you trust me?

Kenshin never asked Tomoe that question. On the night when he realized that he loved her, when he swore to protect her and stay with her, to make her his wife in reality, she'd been happy. That much was not a lie.

Their early life together was.

If she'd really trusted him to protect her, why had she gone to that mountain, to meet with the Tokugawa agent? Even where there was love, there was no guarantee that trust went along with it.

Mid laugh, Shunme glanced up and saw Kenhin. He winked at him, then put his attention back on something the drunken soldier was whispering in his ear.

Kenshin took a step back from the raucous group at his feet, then another, then another. He turned and left the room.

o-o-o

Shimonoski, mid April 1866.

When Kenshin, Nakamura, Takahata, and Katsura arrived at the Shimonoseki merchant's house, it was raining lightly. The misty air felt close and sticky.

Nakamura entered by Katsura's side as if by right, Takahata took the back and Kenshin the front of the house.

As he paced in front of the structure, Kenshin noticed that even the leaves on the maple tree hung limply in the moisture laden air. There was a stillness all around, a sense of expectancy that had more to do with weather than actual danger.

Even sound seemed to carry further than usual. Kenshin heard Ryoma's steps long before he saw his tousled head of hair appearing over the front gate.

Ryoma's face was unusually serious as he pushed open the gate and walked up to Kenshin, who waited between the maple tree and the porch.

"Katsura inside?" Ryoma asked.

Kenshin nodded.

Ryoma gave twisted grin, and trudged past Kenshin up to the house.

The meeting was short. Kenshin heard the raised voices from out front. Even Nakamura, who was usually too respectful of Katsura to join in, was shouting.

The front door opened forcefully and Katsura strode out onto the porch, his face tight. Nakamura marched out as well, shouting, "Why, Katsura? Why give our rice to that wily bandit Ryoma?"

"I thought you would be pleased it wasn't going to Satsuma instead." Katsura's voice was quiet, low pitched, but it echoed the frustration in his eyes.

That stopped Nakamura for a moment, but then his eyes narrowed and he burst out, "The rice can go to the bottom of the sea for all I care, but the insult! Saigo dares to refuse our rice out of pity? After all you did to gather it to send to Kyoto for him? We don't need his pity or his help."

Katsura stopped at the end of the porch. "Nakamura." He practically barked the name. "The decision is mine."

Nakamura's step faltered. The anger faded from his eyes, then he gritted his teeth and turned away, fists clenched at his side.

"Lord Katsura?" A maidservant stepped timidly out onto the porch, waiting until Katsura looked at her. "My master wishes to speak with you before you go." she told him, bowing low.

With a last glance at Nakamura, Katsura wheeled around and returned to the mansion. Nakamura followed, his head down.

"Hello Kenshin."

Ryoma walked tiredly across the porch and sat at the edge.

Kenshin nodded at him.

"I suspect you heard what happened. All of Shimonoseki probably heard it."

"Yes." Kenshin answered simply.

Ryoma leaned back on his elbows. "Katsura is so stubborn. He can't accept a favor without seeing an insult in it."

Kenshin thought of the night when Katsura had nearly lost his life, walking home from a rice merchant's warehouse where he'd been making arrangements for the rice to be sent to Satsuma men in appreciation for their assistance in Choshu's arms dealings.

He thought of all the times he'd accompanied Katsura to warehouses and merchants' offices in the past months. Did Ryoma not understand the amount of effort Katsura had put into finding, buying, and transporting the rice?

"How is Ike Kurata?" Kenshin asked, to change the subject.

Ryoma's whole body tensed. "He's dead." he said quietly.

The bald statement no longer shocked Kenshin. So many men he'd known or worked with had died already, but he knew it would grieve Shunme.

"How?" Kenshin wondered if it were the Shinsengumi, an enraged Choshu conservative, or another Tokugawa supporter.

"He went down with his ship." Ryoma laughed softly, mirthlessly. "His first try as captain, and he refused to leave when his ship sank."

Kenshin waited, and Ryoma continued.

"There was a storm off Nagasaki. Kurata was bringing the Werewolf to Shimonoseki. The Union was towing it when the storm hit. They started taking on water. Kurata himself cut the tow line so he wouldn't take the Union down with him. Twelve men drowned. Only three of the crew survived. Kurata refused to leave with the rest."

"I'm sorry." Kenshin said the word mechanically.

"So am I." Ryoma pulled himself to an upright position. "Kurata was a good man. Japan has lost too many good men already." He slipped off the porch and began walking away.

"Take care of yourself, Kenshin." he said as he walked by. Then he opened the gate, and was gone.