Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Alchemy of Gold and Silver ❯ Oathbound ( Chapter 2 )

Chapter 2: Oathbound

 

Creativity can solve almost any problem. The creative act, the defeat of habit by originality, overcomes everything.

-George Lois

 

***

 

“Ayah!”

 

Kamiya Kaoru swung the bokken with all her might, the wood making a whistling sound as it cut the air in front of her. Her father was faster though, and sidestepped, rapping Kaoru sharply on the back when she failed to recover quickly enough and allowed her momentum to carry her past him.

 

“Kaoru! You know better than that! You must be aware of the results of your actions always,” he admonished.

 

Kaoru bit back a sigh of frustration. Picking herself up from where the blow had sent her sprawling to the floor, she turned once again to face Koshijiro, hands tightening on the wooden sword's unornamented hilt. She gritted her teeth, resolving to be more careful.

 

It wasn't as though she was always this reckless. Generally speaking, she was a very defensive fighter, like her father. Today though, Koshijiro had come at her like a different man entirely, and she supposed she had responded in kind. As she grasped what he was trying to teach her, she allowed her breathing to steady, and rushed him again, this time flowing through the movements with more caution, though she was still blocked at every strike. The cracking sound of wood landing heavily on wood filled the otherwise empty dojo, and the two of them leaped around at full speed, utilizing the entire space.

 

Well, full speed for Kaoru anyway. She was becoming faster almost by the day, but she was still nothing compared to her father. When Koshijiro practiced alone or with his most senior students, his daughter often struggled just to keep track of him, though this too was becoming easier with time.

 

Kaoru followed Koshijiro's lead as he continued to increase the pace. By this point, she was almost as frustrated as she had been a few moments ago, only she was better at controlling it this time. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she barely ever landed a hit on her father, and never a good one. So she chased him about the room, attempting futilely to get under his guard.

 

A sharp rap to the shoulder and several more failed attacks later, her mind was casting about for something, anything, to do. Her desperately calculating brain was running move sequences in her head almost faster than she could process them, discarding each in turn, when it alighted on something strange. Why she thought of it she couldn't say, but it made an odd kind of sense and she grasped at it with fervor. The other day, she and her father had passed some street performers while walking through the city. Koshijiro had bought her an indigo ribbon from one of the vendors, but that wasn't what had her so preoccupied. No, there had been a group performing some kind of made-up dance that she had never seen before. The exchange was much like a swordfight, Kaoru had decided, with one dancer lunging towards the other, while the second spun out of the way abruptly and came to face the first's back… that's it! What was the use trying to defeat father with his own style? He knew every move of the Kamiya Kasshin school; he'd invented most of them. Why shouldn't she invent something, too?

 

A grin settled on Kaoru's face, and she saw her father raise an eyebrow. She did not speak, however, merely stood her ground, allowing him to take the offensive he seemed so fond of today.

 

As she had expected, he began with the Kamiya Kasshin's most attack-oriented stance, and lunged forward, slicing diagonally downward, from right to left. The best response to an attack like this, Kaoru knew, was to dodge to the right, just enough to avoid the blade and let it finish its arc harmlessly. The aggressiveness of the move would leave Koshijiro temporarily open to attack, but Kaoru knew she wasn't fast enough to take advantage of it, so, remembering the dance she had seen, she dodged to the left instead, spinning to avoid the blade's end as it rushed towards her. At the end of the spin, she used her momentum to deliver a one-handed blow to the ribs on Koshijiro's now-exposed side, allowing her to strike with greater speed than if she had stopped and hit using a double grip. The effect was an impressive thud, and Kaoru wound up in a good defensive position for the answering blow.

 

Rather than continue the match however, Koshijiro held up his hand in defeat, smiling widely as the two exchanged formal bows, signaling the end of the bout. To her surprise, he was still smiling when they both straightened. Before she could fully process the outcome of the match, her normally reserved father had pulled her into a tight hug.

 

“That's the way, Kaoru,” he said softly, and his only daughter couldn't help but smile in response to his praise.

 

Releasing her, his face relaxed into a more neutral expression, but the glint of pride in his eyes remained. “Now, can you tell me what happened in that fight?” he asked.

 

Kaoru considered her answer. This analysis was something her father was quite fond of, and he was always asking her questions about her observations, even when they were outside the dojo. She had never understood why until the image of the dancers had leapt unbidden into her thoughts at that critical moment.

 

“At the beginning,” she started slowly, “I was confused, because you were attacking much more than usual. You also kept changing the pace. I got pretty frustrated because I didn't understand why, and I made a mistake by swinging too hard without thinking.” She cringed a bit at the memory, but when her father voiced no further reprimand or observation, she continued, “I tried to calm down after that, but I couldn't hit you and it was aggravating me. Then… then I remembered the street performers we saw the other day, and how they danced like they were fighting. I remembered how the one spun behind the other, and… I thought it might work, so I tried it.” Koshijiro chuckled, and Kaoru's face colored slightly.

 

Why is he laughing at me? It worked, didn't it?

 

“I'm glad to see you using your inventiveness Kaoru,” he said soothingly, catching sight of her expression, “but you should be careful. Unless you can say for sure what the result will be, trying a new move in the heat of battle before you've practiced it is dangerous.”

 

Kaoru's face fell. He was right, of course. If it hadn't worked, she would certainly be sporting a few more bruises than she was already. And if someone came at her with a real sword… she sighed.

 

Koshijiro's answering smile was gentle as they left the dojo and headed outside. “Nevertheless, it did work. What would you like to name that move?”

 

Kaoru's eyes widened. To name a move was to give it a special place in one's style. It was usually the master's discretion to invent and name such things.

 

“Are… are you sure it's okay father?”

 

“Why not? It's a good move, and it works well as a response to that kind of attack. Of course, if you don't want me teaching the others, I'd understand.” Koshijiro adopted a mock-serious face, and regarded her askance, raising an eyebrow.

 

“You mean, I can have my own secret technique?” Kaoru's usually large blue eyes might well have been dinner plates.

 

Her father shrugged, trying to hide his amusement by looking nonchalant, “If you'd like.”

 

She frowned slightly, thinking. The performers were the source of the idea, perhaps she should use that somehow. But to call it “dance” or “circus” would be silly. What, then, about the performance would lend itself to a name? She thought back on the day, and was able to recall the details of the choreography, the way it was coordinated with the fire-eaters in the background... then it hit her, and she smiled. The female dancer had been wearing some kind of iridescent fabric which was almost sheer at the arms, giving the appearance of translucent wings.

 

“How about Tonbo?” she asked.

 

The elder Kamiya paused in thought for a moment. “Hmm… yes, I suppose that fits fairly well, now doesn't it? Tonbo it is.” Kaoru caught sight of her father's mouth twitching upward again, even if he tried to hide it.

 

Kaoru nodded with an air of finality, or at least as much of one as someone so young could manage.

 

 

***

 

Koshijiro saw her smile, and the shadow that had settled over his heart was lifted, if only for a moment. Twelve years old, and his daughter was already showing the marks of a fine swordswoman. Still, he hoped he had been sufficiently firm in his warning. Creativity was good- he had invented half of his own style from the roots of the Hiten Mitsurugi, after all,- but not when exercised recklessly.

 

His mind was dragged down from his rush of pride when he caught a glance of someone at the gate. Two someones, as it appeared. His face hardened, and he spoke low and quickly.

 

“Kaoru, I want you to go polish the dojo floor. I'll be in to help you in a few minutes.”

 

His daughter, normally ever so spirited in her avoidance of chores, followed his line of sight and swallowed whatever protest she might have made, turning silently in the direction from which they had come.

 

Koshijiro made his way over to the entrance to his property. As he had suspected, the two men were wearing the uniform of the Shinsengumi. The rebels were never so public or obvious in their advances, since the Shogunate's police force still had control here. He sighed inwardly. Would the efforts to draw him into this madness never end?

 

“Gentlemen,” he spoke abruptly, with none of his usual politeness, reiterating for what seemed the hundredth time that he wanted no involvement with any of them.

 

“Ah, Kamiya-sensei,” said the first one, smiling pleasantly. “Would you mind if we came in?”

 

Koshijiro's eyes narrowed, “Actually, I would rather you didn't. I have students arriving shortly, and I do not wish to delay their lessons.”

 

The first man, one with a boyish face and an air that still reeked of naïveté, seemed rather put-off by his rude behavior, but recovered from it quickly enough. Not so soon, however, that his partner did not notice his discomfort. The second, slightly older man (though he could still have been no more than twenty-five) glared at Koshijiro with cold yellow-gold eyes.

 

“Look, Kamiya-san,” he said, placing a disdainful emphasis on the suffix and lighting a cigarette, “despite your behavior, you're not a stupid man. We both know what will happen if you continue to resist this. Either the rebels will become afraid you're with us and kill you-” he took a slow drag- “or we'll start to think you're with them, and kill you. Now, if that's what you want, I could care less, but I do wonder what would happen to that little daughter of yours,” he accompanied the flatly intoned implication with a slow exhale, smoke billowing into the air between them.

 

Koshijiro's bokken was at the smoking man's throat before he even finished his sentence. The master of the Kamiya Kasshin style allowed the full force of his ki to wash over the area, and the younger of the Shinsengumi flinched noticeably.

 

“Now, Shinsengumi-kun,” he pronounced each syllable slowly, suffusing them with scarcely-controlled rage, “I am not in the habit of killing. But, should you even speak of my daughter a second time, I will take great pains to ensure that you never lift a sword again, to harm her or anyone else. Get. Out.” His expression remained impassive as the Shinsengumi blinked slowly, apparently unsurprised.

 

The man's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but if Koshijiro's suspicions were correct, the cat-eyed man was strong enough to know when he was outmatched, and he deliberately stepped away from the wooden sword, gesturing to his companion, eyes never leaving the dojo master.

 

“Don't just stand there, let's go.” The stranger let his cigarette fall, grinding what remained into the ground pointedly, then turned away.

 

The younger man nodded, “Yes, Saito-sama!” Turning to Koshijiro, he bowed apologetically, “Sorry to bother you sir!”

 

Koshijiro heaved a sigh, and replaced his bokken at his waist. He didn't like threatening people any more than he enjoyed being threatened, but it seemed that little else kept the recruiters away these days. He doubted that an entire squad of the Shinsengumi could take him out if he was properly armed, but the trouble was, he used nothing but a wooden sword anymore. Unlike those troublesome hitokiri he heard spoken of with so much fear, he could not simply kill one opponent and move on to the next. He thought briefly of the sakabatou locked in a chest in his room, but he knew in his heart that it was not meant for him, that a bokken was now and would always be his only weapon. But if they knew about Kaoru… Perhaps it would be best to develop her new abilities by sending her to other dojos nearby…

 

But there was something he had to make sure he did first. She needed to be reminded of what the Kamiya Kasshin style was really about.

 

 

***

 

Kaoru took the walk home as slowly as possible. She'd spent the last month studying at a dojo on the other side of town, and she was beginning to think she'd learned all she could from the style taught there. The fact was, all the students at that place that were a match for her skills regularly used real katana, which made her own bokken seem foolish in comparison.

 

Still, she knew better than to take up a bladed weapon herself. Her father had impressed upon her many times the importance of remembering that swordsmanship was the art of protection, and betraying that ideal was betraying the very nature of everything she had learned. She thought, too, that it would be a betrayal of her father, though he never said so himself. It was this unthinkable implication (and her own stubbornness) that had kept her resolve steady even when she was being ridiculed by others for her code.

 

A real sword would have made it easier to spar though. She sighed as she dragged her feet along the path that led back to her home. These days, she had double the chores, between the ones she performed as payment to the master of the other school and the ones she did for her own home. Like most children on summer days like this, all Kaoru wanted to do was take a nice nap in the sun…

 

The girl reached up and rubbed the back of her still-sweaty neck, running the fingers of her other hand through her shoulder-length hair to try and sort it into some semblance of neatness. Deciding it was good enough, she gave a small adjustment to her indigo ribbon and smiled. It was the one girly thing she had ever found she liked, and served a practical purpose, too, keeping her hair away from her face since it wasn't long enough to pull up. Though it was probably improper for a respectable young lady to wear her hair so short, she didn't much care, and her father was quite tolerant of her personal choices. Maybe one day she'd go back to wearing it long like her mother had, but for now it was easier this way.

 

Aw, man. Sluggish, humid afternoons like this also made her think too much about things she'd rather ignore. Her mother had died a few years after she was born from lingering complications of the birth, and though no one had said a word of blame to her, she still didn't like thinking about it. Kaoru didn't blame herself either, she just hated what her imagination did when she considered what it would be like to have a mother. It always made her feel as though she was missing something important, and that was a disservice to her father in Kaoru's mind.

 

The cicadas droned monotonously as she sped up for the last few blocks. Her father would likely be ending classes soon, and she wanted to talk to him before they began afternoon chores.

 

The gate was open, and she made a note to find out who had left it that way- probably Shunsui, that idiot- and give them a stern talking-to. She giggled as she imagined what his face would look like. Shunsui was actually thirteen, a year older than her, but she'd been kicking his butt since they were five, and he was a pretty meek personality anyway.

 

The laughter disappeared from her countenance, however, when she realized she could not hear the usual sounds of practice. Ordinarily, the shouts of combatants and the crack of wooden practice swords made it outside without any problem. Today, though, it was eerily quiet.

 

“Hello?” Kaoru called, stepping into the yard. “Father? Shunsui-kun? Hirakawa-sempai? Is anyone there?”

 

Alarmed at the complete lack of response, she took a few more hasty steps toward the dojo itself before she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes grew large and a strangled gasp escaped her mouth. A boy was lying on the grass in front of her home, surrounded by a crimson stain that spread outward from where he had fallen. There was a slash running the length of his back, and he lay on his face. Still, she'd recognize that mop of unruly brown hair anywhere.

 

“Shunsui!” She ran forward, collapsing at his side, turning him over, slapping the side of his face to try and bring him around. But it was useless; the glassy look to his once-warm eyes was enough to tell her that. The others. Where are the others? Where is father?

 

She felt the heated rush of panic in her limbs as she ran full-tilt for the dojo, passing the bodies of those who had tried to escape as she went, their faces all frozen in grotesque, terror-stricken parodies of their living selves. As she practically leaped into the building, her feet slid out from under her, and she came crashing to the ground.

 

What the-? Her thought was cut off by pure horror when she realized that she was covered in blood. The entire dojo floor was slick with it.

 

She made her way more carefully now, eyes slowly filling with tears as the harsh reality of each body she passed added up in her mind. Shunsui, Hirakawa-senpai, Keigo, Hayate, Yoshi… all of them, dead.

 

It was with cold dread in the pit of her stomach that she finally allowed her eyes to reach the center of the room.

 

“No!” The harsh cry tore from Kaoru's mouth, rending the silence, then subsiding so that nothing could be heard save the sound of her sobs and ragged breathing.

 

With no concern left for the blood the was covered with, she knelt beside her father's body. Her knee brushed his arm, and she saw his eyelids flutter.

 

“Father?” she inquired softly, trying to hold back the tide of irrational hope that flooded her body.

 

“K…Kaoru?”

 

“Father! Hang on! I'll get you to Doctor Gensai, he can-” As she made to stand, Koshijiro gripped her arm weakly.

 

“No, Kaoru, I need you to listen to me.”

 

“But father-” her voice was something between a sob and a strangled whisper.

 

“Please,” he gasped. “I won't be able to make it much longer and you must listen!” The effort it took to raise his voice cost him dearly, and he dissolved into a coughing fit, causing blood to well out of his mouth.

 

Kaoru watched, mortified, as her father struggled to regain his breath. Her mind was telling her to run, get help, do something, but her body would not, could not, obey. And so she listened.

 

“In my room… in a trunk… is a sword. I want you to take it. It was meant for you, I think. I want you to take it, and run from here. Go to Doctor Gensai. Tell him you need to find… you need to find Hiko. He'll know what I mean.”

 

“Father, what…” she struggled to form the question, but found it was beyond her at the moment.

 

“They… came. So many of them. They… used the students as hostages. I disarmed, hoping they would only want me, but…” he shuddered, the movement wracking his rapidly-weakening body. “Tell me, did the young ones escape?”

 

Kaoru swallowed. “Yes,” she lied, fresh moisture welling in her eyes. It hurt to lie to him so, but…

 

Koshijiro smiled. “Good.”

 

“Father-” she choked, “Who did this to you? Was it the revolutionaries? Or the government?”

 

Koshijiro shook his head with great effort. “Does it matter? There is no good reason to kill, Kaoru. Remember that, and promise me you won't seek vengeance. You must seek only peace. Promise me.” He grasped her hand, and there was a desperation in his grip that scared her.

 

“I promise, father.” Even as she uttered the words, she knew that there was a certain finality in them, and that no matter what, this was one promise she would keep for the rest of her life. She would not lie to him twice this day.

 

A weak smile settled on Koshijiro's face, as if he knew what she was thinking and was glad of it. “Thank you, Kaoru. Now, please, you must go. Find Doctor Gensai, and find Hiko.”

 

“No,” she whispered. “I won't leave you alone, father, I won't.”

 

“That's my little girl,” he whispered. “Stubborn as your mother. I'll say hello to her for you, shall I?”

 

There was a momentary silence. Then:

 

“I love you, Kaoru.”

 

“I love you too, father,” her voice broke, but she wouldn't break down. Not now, not in front of her father. She knew she had but a few more moments, and she wanted him to leave seeing her not as a weak child, but as his daughter, strong like he was.

 

Koshijiro closed his eyes then, smile still curving his mouth slightly, and Kaoru's posture slumped as she gave herself over completely to her grief. Great sobs wracked her small frame, and her tears were as the spring rains.

 

 

***

 

 

 

Japanese Dictionary:

 

Tonbo: Dragonfly

 

Bokken: a wooden sword, one that is actually shaped like a blade (Kaoru uses one in the anime/manga, different from the kind Yahiko uses.

 

Shinsengumi: the “police force” of the Shogunate during the revolution. That's oversimplifying, but it's the basic idea.

 

Honorific suffixes: This is actually kind of complicated, but basically, for the exchange between Saito, that random kid, and Koshijiro, the kid referred to Saito as “sama” which is a term of respect, a step or two above the standard “san.” He also calls Koshijiro “sensei,” which is the proper title for a dojo master, and is also above “san.” This means that Saito was insulting Koshijiro by calling him “san.” Koshijiro responded by calling him “Shinsengumi-kun,” which, while not technically improper because of the difference in age, is less respectful than “san,” which is what he would have used if he were being polite. Hiko and Koshijiro use first names without suffixes, implying a close friendship. Technically, a doctor like Gensai also gets the “sensei” suffix, but I chose to stick with doctor just because it's less confusing. Of course, interpretations vary, and the differences are sometimes subtle, but after about 2 years of Japanese, that's the handle I have on it.

 

These authors' notes were far too long, so thanks if you read them all. If you didn't, I'm not even remotely offended. Next chapter: we get to meet Sano! And there's a scene with Hiko and Kenshin, yay!