Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Life In A New Era ❯ Tonami, 1872, Part 8 ( Chapter 8 )

Tokio barely suppressed a scream as one of the girls was forcing onto her back, her arms and legs secured by the hands of the other yakuza. Her kimono, already ripped by the first rape, was pushed aside and her leg thrust open.

She turned away, it would be worse if they singled her out again. The last time she'd tried to save another girl from the men she'd just been forced onto her knees and raped instead as punishment. She couldn't bear another time. She would break down crying this time. The other girls had wept their first times, but she'd held firm and only mumbled curses at the men that she'd heard from Kurasawa and Ueda. This had made her more interesting than their other playmates and had only made them all excited to try her too. It was Ichiro Shimada who'd taken her virginity and that of every other girl. It seemed as the leader of the yakuza here he got to sample each girl before he gave them to the mutts.

She quickly learned after the third time that cursing made it worse. The first one after Ichiro had hit her harder at her words and made it much more painful. The second hadn't been so kind either. She'd stopped even speaking by the fourth and that had made them bored. They liked the cursing or crying better. No one struggled after the first time by Ichiro. He'd beaten that lesson into all of them when he'd killed one girl who'd flailed around too much.

She bowed her head, not sitting seiza because her ankle had been strained during her attempt to run when she'd realize what they'd planned. Ichiro had smacked her good for that when he'd taken her and the force had been enough to make it bruise there near her left eye. She could hear the whimpering of some of the girls nearby. It was better not to know their names. Much better not to even look at them and see their pain. How much her cuts, bruises, and wounded pride hurt didn't feel that bad compared to their pained faces. She'd forget the bruises in time, but not their faces.

She'd wait until later before devising an escape plan. There was no way she'd be the yakuza's plaything for the rest of her life. She didn't intent to let this continue. Either she'd escape, fight until she died, or commit jigai if no escape was possible. Better she die with honor than die a slave to lecherous men. She'd try escaping first, that was the safest and involving her getting out alive. She wanted to live, she wanted to at least see those amber eyes again before she died. Her kanzashi had been snatched by one of the men for his main wench, who sat proudly showing everyone her new trinket. But she had her ribbon and that was almost the shade of his eyes. She held it in her hands, her hold on it tighter than death. If the yakuza bastards tried to take that from her too she'd revolt violently.

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Saito sat, watching the few women in the room. Most were unattractive scared things, looking weary and nervous at the sudden unexpected guests. Ueda stood by the door, peeking out every now and again to see if the yakuza were bringing her back yet. Kurasawa sat with his head in his hands, Saito wasn't sure if the man was crying or merely having a mental breakdown.

He ran a hand through his hair, expressionless. On the inside he wanted to go kill some yakuza shits, but knew it was better to wait. Tokio…his Sada…he wanted to kill and destroy everything. How could the Meiji have allowed the damned yakuza to function like this without doing anything? That was far from the righteous Choshu bastards from the revolution who'd claimed the Shogunate had let evil go wild in Japan. Now how had they changed anything? They'd only killed a large population of samurai and impoverished the rest.

If only he'd known about the yakuza's operations here. He'd heard a few mumbled complains about the yakuza from Gonohe villagers but they'd been reluctant to dispense anything else. He'd heard they merely did some work with the shopkeepers, protection stuff, that was common yakuza. Some large rings of yakuza in Tokyo and Kyoto selled sex and drugs, but he'd figured with the information he had and the small group that nothing more was going on. Protecting a businessman from ruffians wasn't illegal so he'd let it go. If only he hadn't, if only he'd dug deeper and found this sordid little band of yakuza's bastard before anything had happened to his precious Tokio.

If only…if only he'd protected her…been there to stop her kidnapping…been there to make sure she didn't get hurt. Now she was likely experiencing horrors beyond her imagination and he'd not been able to stop it. He glared at the wall, just wait yakuza…just wait Tokio…He'd burn this whole world down just to save her. She was the only good thing left in his life and he'd do anything to save that virtuous caring woman.

He really needed a cigarette because he was getting sentimental without one. His ears pricked at the noise, "They're finally back." Kurasawa came to his senses at the sudden words, glancing up at Saito. "Take your frustration out on them if you want Kurasawa-san. I'll kill them after you beat them up."

Kurasawa and Ueda stared at him, Ueda shaking his head softly. "I don't want to kill anyone. I just want Tokio-san to be safe."

"Fine with me, Kurasawa-san. I'll just kill the evil by myself," hadn't he been doing that from the beginning? He was the Lone Wolf of Mibu after all.

He seized the hilt of his katana and brought the flashing blade out. He gave the women in the room a look that said if they screamed he'd make them regret it. Fear was something these women knew. The door started to open as a guard snickered, calling to his companions, "Maybe we should have some fun before we put these ladies back, eh?"

"Look no further for fun," several heads swiveled in his direction. "Where you'll be going is fun. It's called hell." The first man drew his blade but it was too late to block the slash to the chest Saito gave. The man collapsed, blood pouring from the wound.

The second and third men drew their blades as the body collapsed and leaping over their dead comrade found swift deaths waiting. The last man was cowering against the wall in the hall, looking too scared to even bother running. He looked drunk too, what with the bright red in his cheeks and the look in his eyes. Saito walked pass the girls and went to the man. He mumbled something incoherently, burying his head in his arms as Saito brought his sword down on his exposed neck. The head stayed lodged in place because of his arms.

Saito turned around, eying the new arrivals. They all looked like they'd just step out of graves. Kimonos torn and soiled, little blood strains apparent from where they'd lost their virginity. His throat tightened when he saw her. Her brown eyes were wide, the kimono he'd thought looked so well on her in tatters, her hair wild and disorganized. This was the first time he'd ever see Tokio look anything but the lady of Aizu she was and he swore it would be the last. Kurasawa hugged her, muttering nonsense about her being safe.

"Kurasawa-sama," she whispered, "you're hurting me." He let out, touching her right cheek because of the bruise on the left. He looked ready to cry. Ueda came over to them, looking disgusted at the state the women where in. No woman deserved to be treated like that. No person should ever be treated worse than an animal, Saito thought.

"We should go," he said. Ueda met his eyes and saw the fire there. Saito was far from happy. This was not the Meiji era Saito, but the Bakumatsu Saito. He shivered instantly at the thought, watching the other put the katana into its scabbard. Gold eyes glared at everything as he started walking away.

"Let's leave," Kurasawa sounded relieved and with good reason.

"What about the other ladies?"

"Let them come if they want," replied Saito's stern voice. "No being should want to stay and endure such hardship I should think."

The women shared scared looks, not looking certain on whether or not they trusted them. It was one of the new arrivals who hurried after them first and than the rest of the girls came. The woman in the room waited the longest, murmuring between themselves before one took the intuitive and caught up with them as they turned the corner. The rest didn't want to stay and endure the punishment that would come when Ichiro found the bodies; they'd rather chance this escape. Good for them, Saito mussed, it meant they had some spine left. Unlike the villagers, when they returned they'd find weaklings and cowards, not men and women. Hm…that would be bothersome for them when they found out no one had dared loved them enough to risk their lives. He snorted, well that was what happened in the world, some were weak and some were strong, but it was amusing to think about. His sardonic nature was coming out.

The yakuza men must have been busy either drinking or gambling likely and no one noticed their escape. He paused at a room on his way out and came out a second later with fresh blood on his sword. Kurasawa and Ueda met his eyes, he chuckled, "Thought I forgot about them?" They walked right out, passing the bodies of the sentries. Yaso, Satsuki, Amane, and Haruna ran over when they saw Saito's tall figure out come the entrance way. Yaso hugged him and he stared blankly at her outburst. She'd been crying, he noticed, what the hell for? Tokio was fine. Hm…

Satsuki and Haruna both hugged Tokio who complained about her injures. This was followed by apologies on the part of the idiots. Tokio met his eyes and he saw that she was close to tears. He liked the way her eyes shined. He turned away from her and started walking. His leg gave a pang of pain and he realized in his adrenaline pumped state he'd hardly noticed. He smirked, it didn't matter that he'd sustained a minor wound, Tokio was safe and that was what mattered, everything else including his own wound was trivial.

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He sat up, glancing at Yaso turned on her side away from him. Her black hair was spread over her shoulder and face. He watched her silently, her even breathing the tell-tale sign of sleep. He knew she was beautiful, many men said so daily to him how lucky he was to have such a beautiful wife, but he took little pleasure in that fact. Outside beauty was pleasing to look at, but that was all it was. Inner beauty was so much more appealing, for example Tokio's inner beauty always succeed in amazing him. Hm…he knew he shouldn't think of her when he lay beside his wife, but it was hard because she never really left his thoughts.

He looked for his fundoshi and picked it up. He stood, winding the cloth around his hips and bringing it back around his legs. He tied it in back with the belt-cloth. He became still, hearing some noise. He frowned, what was going on outside? He picked up the kimono and juban he'd chosen for today. Once dressed he put on his obi and tied his hair back in a topknot.

He left before Yaso would wake. He went to the gardens, hoping to see her. Tokio was indeed outside. She was staring at her bruised arms, her kimono sleeves pushed back. She was wearing a light blue kimono with a yellow obi.

He found the sight of her skin tempting, but he quickly became annoyed by the bruises. He sat down beside her, she looked startled. "Goro-san," she bowed.

He snorted, putting his arms inside the sleeves of his kimono. He noticed her simple hairstyle, pulled back by a yellow ribbon with another ribbon at the tail end of her hair. She looked so appealing…hm…

He turned his eyes away, frowning at some thought that crossed his mind. "Do you think the yakuza sent the hitokiri?"

"I don't know. Kurasawa-sama said you were attacked once more. I asked because I'd seen your leg." He shrugged, "Goro-san?"

"What?"

"Thank you…"

He grunted, "Did you doubt me?"

Her eyes went wide, "I feared you wouldn't know where I was, not that you wouldn't come once you found out."

Smart girl. "I don't think the yakuza sent the hitokiri. The last three alone would have exceeded their money. I don't like to think that I have someone with a ton of money sending hitokiri after me. I don't mind killing them, but I find it a nuance that people keep popping up to off me."

She laughed, "Goro-san, there isn't much you can do unless you find out who's after you."

He smirked, "Kurasawa-san wants to move into another residence in Gonohe. He discussed it with me last night. Yaso-san and I will be leaving to go live with Ueda-san. Ueda-san has given his permission for us to live in his household."

He observed her startled expression, her hands folding into her lap, the gentle slope to her slender shoulders. What he'd said was hurting her, but it had to be said. "Kurasawa-san is worried about everyone's safety here, so it is natural that he'd want the one bringing the danger to leave."

"But…"

"Don't ask."

"But…when will I see you? How often?" She'd asked what he hadn't wanted her to.

He shrugged, pulling out his cigarettes. He frowned at the empty pack, realizing he'd forgotten to buy more. He'd go in a little while and get some more. He really needed it to ease his nerves.

"Ueda-san only visits once a month at best," he heard the desperation leaking into her voice, heard her pain as clearly as if it was the pain in his own heart.

"There is nothing we can do to prevent this. We must do as Kurasawa-san requires."

"But…Goro-san…Haj―."

He stopped her sharply, "Sorrow will dissolve in time." He didn't want to hear her say that name, it would only worsen things.

"Do not dwell on sorrow," she mumbled, her eyes sparkling with tears. "You said those words to Okita-san."

"I did."

"Did shoving it away and not thinking about it make it go away? Did Okita-san's sorrow really dissolve in time?" He didn't response, looking out at the garden. He felt her weight against his left shoulder. One hand clutched at his neck and the other at the front of his kimono.

"Someone might see," he muttered. She didn't move, in fact her hands gripped more tightly. "Stop," he grabbed her wrist, yanked it off his kimono, and shoved her away.

Tokio stared at his face from her spot on the porch, he was as expressionless as ever. His eyes were closed, his breathing even, and his hands still in his lap. He could have been a Buddha statue expect for the breathing. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched him. His eyes opened and he turned his head to look at her. Her eyes widened and the tears spilled out when she saw the amber orbs.

"Sorrow never leaves, Sada-san. It stays lodged in the heart, no matter how disciplined the person or how careful one is to hide it and make it disappear. Okita knew that and so do I. Okita hid his sorrow behind one of joy and I…I hide mine with indifference." He chuckled dryly, "I won't forget the time we spent together, Tokio-san. I won't forget you so don't forget me." He left her alone on the porch, his step sounded lighter to her than when he'd walked out.

"Never, Hajime," she cried to herself. Neither she nor Saito were aware of the pair of brown eyes watching them with hatred.