Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Four Swords ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter One

 

“An army, eh? Civilians… Merchants and farmers. Need the support, don't they? Man like you gets them that support. You're just a pawn in a larger, dangerous game. You know why they're doing it, don't you?”

 

He sighed softly. “Yes, and no. Wouldn't it be nice if they were doing it for all the right reasons, and that the bad reasons were just a nice bonus?”

“Think like that and you'll get yourself killed.”

 

“Maybe. But maybe I can help make Japan's tomorrow better.”

 

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“You wanted to see me?”

 

“Take it.”

 

“What?”

 

“I said, take it. The whole network. Everything is yours to control and command.”

 

There was a moment of silence, then, “Hmph. What kind of records do you keep? How can I get in touch with all of them?”

 

“They've been alerted already to the change in power. Or they will be shortly. Have no fear.”

 

“That's not what I mean. When can I start sending them out?”

 

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“Today's training was good.”

 

“As good as it will ever be.”

 

“I think it was very good. Are you always going to be a pessimist?”

 

“Probably.”

 

Laughter. “Oh, that would be sad indeed. The world is not a place for pessimists. Pessimists will always see bad things. I see good things, you see.”

 

“What good things can you see for Japan, with the Ishin Shishi?”

 

“I see… not bad people, just people who are not loyal. Or rather, people who are loyal to ideas more than tradition. Perhaps it is these people that will make Japan good. Don't you think so?”

 

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“More tea, Lord Kawami?”

 

“Yes, please. So as I was saying… thank you, my dear.”

 

“Go on, Kawami. Tell us what you know.”

 

“Well, we got word yesterday that one of the patriot leaders is hiding out in Kyoto. Got the hideout and everything. Thanks to the onmitsu, ne?” (A/N: “ne” is Japanese for, “isn't that so?” sort of like “eh”… or at least, that's what I remember from Japanese school)

 

Chortles and outright laughter followed. “Those fools. There is no better than the Oniwabanshu! They should know! Enough of them have been killed thanks to their information!”

 

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Night fell quietly on Kyoto, failing to reflect the turmoil of the times. A young man strode silently, yet confidently, down the streets, turning quickly and with certainty. He stopped before a small house crushed between an inn and a busy restaurant, a house that simply faded into the background and was passed by.

 

He slid the door open gently and hurried up the flight of stairs. As he reached the top step the usual guards stopped him.

 

“Good evening, sir. Inouya is inside, waiting for you. We'll take care of things out here.” He nodded, and stepped passed the guards into the inner room.

 

“Ah, the famed idealist Sagara. Pleased to meet you. Name's Inouya Tarou, a leader of the Ishin Shishi.”

 

“Why have you requested to meet me?” Sagara asked pleasantly. He had seen enough to distrust this man ever so slightly, patriot though he was.

 

“Well. You're the newest leader of the movement, aren't you? It would be impolite of me not to introduce myself to you, invite you into our circle, you know?”

 

“I am the Captain of the Sekihou Army, a civilian unit. I will not be drawn into the politics of the new government. I fight for the arising Meiji government because it holds higher ideals than the shogunate. It promises that the poor and the weak will no longer be exploited. That, Inouya-san, is why I've pledged my sword to the Ishin Shishi.”

 

Inouya was silent for a moment, then chuckled. “You're as idealistic as they say you are. I just wanted to meet you. Please, I've been rude. Sit down, Sagara-san. Would you like some tea?”

 

Sagara waved it away. “No thank you, Inouya-san. If there is nothing else, then I should be going.”

 

“No, stay, make yourself comfortable. I'm interested in you, young man.”

 

Sagara laughed. “Hardly young anymore, Inouya-san. I'm nearly twenty-five.”

 

“Still young compared to some of the rest of us. I remember when I was twenty-five… In any case, I am still interested in you. Why is it that you do not stay among the upper-class? A man of your standing would have a place in the new government, or even in the Shogunate. You should be at home, running a manor and married with children.”

 

Sagara smiled. He'd ruled out marriage a long time ago, when he'd first begun work for the new movement. “I've given up any thoughts of marriage and children. It's too dangerous in my line of work. Besides,” he said with a little shrug, “I never found any woman I liked enough to want to marry. And I've already told you why I'm here—I fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. That is all. I believe in equality for the `lower-classes'—I believe in class-less equality.”

 

“As does the new government,” Inouya was quick to assure him. Sagara Souzou was famous for his skill as a leader and with a sword. They needed him desperately. The farmers and merchants looked to him for guidance and hope.

 

Suddenly, Sagara stiffened. There was something unnerving about this place now… Why couldn't he hear the guards outside anymore? They'd been quiet, yes, but he'd still been able to hear their slight movements and whispered conversations.

 

“Inouya-san. Do you hear what I hear?”

 

“No, Sagara-san. I hear nothing.”

 

“Precisely.” He stood, turning to face the door, and drew his sword. Taking a slow, deep breath, he readied himself for battle. He heard Inouya draw his own sword and stand ready.

 

The screen moved ever so slightly as someone gently tried to slide it open without drawing attention. They must have realized their presence was known and secrecy was unnecessary, because the next moment five men burst into the room.

 

Assassins, Sagara thought. He knew the look—and these, specifically, were Oniwabanshu. He cursed to himself. These foolish patriots! To get caught like this! The guards were probably all dead… He tensed as he waited for one of them to strike. They blocked the only feasible exit besides the window. He and Inouya were trapped.

 

A small man standing before Sagara leapt at him. Assassins were different than swordsmen; Sagara did not know how to fight them well. He prayed that his sword would protect him and fell into the ready position.

 

Suddenly, the man stopped, as if frozen in time in mid-air, and choked. Blood spurted from his throat, where the hilt of a dagger protruded.

 

With a sharp cry something dropped from the rafters. Sagara made out a human form as it flew towards an assassin, both legs kicking at his head to knock him backwards. It landed with silent grace, poised for attack, a knife gleaming in one hand.

 

Neither he nor Inouya really saw the fight, because the next thing they knew the remaining three assassins had lunged for the intruder. Knives flashed in the faint moonlight, but it was clear that their protector outclassed the assassins. Watching them fight, Sagara determined that whoever had saved them was a skilled martial artist and assassin. He was good. His legs kicked easily, and his punches landed without fail. A countless number of knives seemed to be hidden on his body, although only four were actually used.

 

When every assassin lay dead, the new assassin stood silently. Sagara kept his sword ready, as did Inouya. Even if this assassin had saved them, they still did not know his motive. Instead of attacking them, the assassin turned to them and nodded. Sagara saw beautiful, deep, amber-brown eyes with many secrets behind them. Before he could say anything, the assassin had darted to the window and leapt out. He landed lightly on the ground, then took off—a mere shadow in the streets of Kyoto.

 

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Sagara turned towards his companion. “Do you know who might have sent assassins?” he asked, trying to tread cautiously. In these times, you couldn't even trust your allies. That disappointed Sagara, but he had no choice in the matter.

 

“Any number of Shogunate nobles or officials…”

 

“Anybody in particular?”

 

He shook his head. “The Ishin Shishi have many enemies, Sagara-san. I cannot know which one may have been at work here.”

“Somebody close to the Oniwabanshu,” Sagara murmured, kneeling down to examine the fallen assassins. These were lesser assassins; true, high-ranking Oniwabanshu close to the Okashira would not have fallen like this. If it had been the true power of the Oniwabanshu, he, Inouya, and the other assassin would have been dead.

 

“The Oniwabanshu fight for the Shogunate. It could still be anyone,” Inouya said, resigned.

 

“This house is useless to the Ishin Shishi now. Let's go.”

 

Sagara and Inouya left the house, stripping the patriot guards before they left. There was nothing they could do with the bodies but whisper soft prayers over them, thanking them for their lives. They took anything that might lead the Shinsengumi to more of the patriots.

 

They hurried through the streets of Kyoto. Inouya was leaving the city, headed for another Ishin Shishi safe spot. Sagara was looking for an inn to stay the night. After parting with Inouya and being admitted into a room at a nearby inn, Sagara lay on the futon and thought.

 

Why had the assassin showed up? How did he know what was going on? He knew that assassins didn't simply come running to help when they heard a fight. So why protect him and Inouya? The Ishin Shishi, if they had any assassins, would have at least identified themselves to each other. So this assassin, Sagara thought, was not an official member of the Ishin Shishi. Or maybe the assassin was just being careful. But a Shogunate assassin? Why would he have killed the Oniwabanshu? Not much was making sense right now.

 

With a heavy sigh, Sagara rolled over onto his side. The last thing he saw in his mind was the assassin's eyes, brilliant pools of amber glowing in the moonlight.