Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ The Four Swords ❯ Chapter Ten ( Chapter 10 )

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not that anyone cares… but high school ends for me on Thursday! Yay!

 

In other news, I only got 4 hits on the last chapter, and am seriously considering discontinuing this fic here. -shrugs- If I get more hits and reviews, I'll pretend I never thought that.

 

Mild shounen-ai in the story.

 

Chapter 10

 

Okita skipped happily through the woods, practically singing to himself. The sun was dipping below the horizon, the night birds were beginning to sing… He had every reason to be happy, he thought.

 

Saitou and Harada were surprised that he had taken his night off without them; normally the trio would go out together into Kyoto, to eat real food and drink sake. And if they didn't, Saitou and Harada knew that Okita was with Hijikata.

 

Not so tonight. Hijikata was out of Kyoto; nobody really knew where, not even Okita, although he suspected he was in Edo or Aizu. And Okita had instructed Saitou and Harada to go out without him, saying he would rather be alone tonight. Harada had responded with mock hurt, but had let the matter go. Saitou had also let it slide, but Okita knew that the amber-eyed man was thoroughly curious and concerned.

 

Okita was also a bit concerned about Saitou. Saitou had been interested in Mieko, more interested that Okita had ever seen him in anybody. That included the Hitokiri Battousai. It troubled Okita, because he didn't quite want Saitou involved with the girl. He obviously wasn't jealous in any way, but he felt that he needed to protect Mieko. She had been so secretive… and he feared that allowing Saitou to become close to her would force her to reveal more of herself than she wanted.

 

He also worried that getting anyone involved with Mieko would expose himself, Sagara, and Aoshi. The repercussions of their actions and involvement with each other, should they ever be found out, would most certainly not be pretty.

 

Oh well. Doesn't do me any good to fret. I won't stop Saitou from pursuing her, but I will warn Mieko and try to discourage him. Okita liked his plan. As long as Mieko knew, then she wouldn't be caught off-guard. I should make sure to warn her about “Aku, Soku, Zan.” It has the strange tendency to scare people.

 

The safe house was already dimly lit up from the inside by the fire, and as Okita opened the door he saw that something was boiling over the fire. He sniffed delicately—miso soup.

 

“Oishii!” he cried happily, running to the young girl cutting negi at the table. He threw his arms around her shoulders and hugged her tight.

 

“Ah! Okita-san!” she cried out, dropping the knife with a clatter. Okita continued to beam at her shoulder and squeeze her.

 

“You're making miso soup!” he cried happily, releasing her to jump up and down, clapping his hands. Mieko's eyes widened in surprise.

 

“Okita-san…” she murmured, somewhere between amused and disturbed.

 

“Don't worry. I imagine he gets like this a lot,” Sagara said, reaching over to stir the boiling soup. Okita hadn't noticed the man crouched by the fire. Mieko shook her shoulders, like a dog shaking water out of its fur, and resumed her chopping.

 

“Has Aoshi gotten back yet?” she asked.

 

“No,” Sagara replied. To Okita's curious look, he said, “Aoshi got sent out to get tofu in Kyoto.” A grin spread over the man's face as Okita burst out laughing. Mieko's light giggle soon joined them.

 

“I fail to see what's so funny,” Aoshi snapped, dropping in through a window. He strode over to the table and placed the block of tofu before Mieko.

 

“Nothing, Aoshi-san,” she said brightly, smiling up at him. “It was just…”

 

“It was funny to think of you, of all people, going into Kyoto to buy tofu!” Okita was nearly doubled over with laughter. Sagara was smiling to himself as he stirred the soup again. Both of them had noticed the young man's unusually serious demeanor—the Okashira did not seem quite suited to normal errands like buying tofu.

 

“Never mind Okita. He's being silly,” Mieko consoled Aoshi. “Arigatou, Aoshi-san!” she said, suddenly hugging him tightly around the waist.

 

Okita's laughter increased tenfold as he saw the Okashira's face contort and his muscles clench. Sagara couldn't help but let the grin playing at the corners of his lips escape. The Okashira was also clearly not used to familiar human contact. Mieko finally released Aoshi and finished chopping the negi, apparently oblivious to the response she'd exacted from Aoshi.

 

“Why am I surrounded by such touchy-feely people?” Aoshi grumbled, straightening his shirt and sitting down on the floor next to Sagara, who he hoped would prove more serious and dignified.

 

“Get used to it,” Sagara advised. “Okita's the same way.”

 

Okita smiled his trademark imp smile and lunged for Aoshi, tackling the young man with a hug around the shoulders.

 

----------------

 

After the simple dinner, Mieko cleared away the food as Sagara and Aoshi moved the futons and table to the side. With the room essentially clear, the four began their training together.

 

“Let's spar a bit, just to test our skill,” Okita suggested. “I think we're all skilled enough to ensure that we don't get hurt.”

 

Okita, clearly the combat specialist amongst the four, arranged the sparring pairs.

 

“Aoshi, Mieko, your skills are closest together. Why don't you go at it first?” The pair said nothing, but stepped forward and assumed ready positions.

 

“Can we fight with anything?” Mieko asked evenly. Okita considered her question before answering.

 

“No, make this as fair as possible. You're both allowed to use hand-to-hand combat, and you, Mieko, can use your suntetsu, and Aoshi can use his kodachi. But that's it,” Okita said, trying to think if he'd missed anything.

 

Compliantly, Mieko stood upright and yanked on the knot in her obi. It fell away easily, and she kicked it aside. She shrugged off her kimono; the men had averted their eyes, and she laughed.

 

“Don't worry. Not only do I wear my assassin uniform underneath my kimono, there's not much to see anyway.” She tossed the printed cloth aside and shook her body, adjusting it to the new looseness of her surroundings.

 

Aoshi raised his kodachi, and Mieko raised her fists. “Hajime!” Okita cried, and, after only a moment's hesitation, Aoshi lunged forward.

 

Mieko was surprised; Aoshi had struck her as a “waiting” fighter, a fighter who waited for his opponent to make a move and then defend against it. Instead, Aoshi was an initiative fighter. She leapt back easily to avoid the sweeping motion of his kodachi.

 

Aoshi was not surprised by Mieko's fast reaction; he'd seen her fighting back in Hanayama, so he knew she was good. He just wanted to know how good, and if she would teach him anything.

 

They continued on for several minutes, Aoshi swinging carefully, guardedly, and Mieko dodging. Both seemed to be waiting the other one out. Neither attacked with any real ferocity or force, and neither was getting anywhere, either.

 

Finally, Aoshi decided he'd had enough and lunged forward in his special kodachi attack. Mieko was unperturbed, however, and smoothly moved out of the way. With a little flip she was behind Aoshi, right arm snaking around his throat, suntetsu gleaming between her fingers.

 

Aoshi smiled and lowered his kodachi—he knew defeat when he saw it. If they had been in a real fight, Mieko wouldn't have hesitated to slit his throat. And she hadn't even needed to work very hard, or use any ability. Mieko, in turn, dropped her suntetsu, and it disappeared into her right sleeve.

 

“Come,” she said to Aoshi, suddenly and sharply. “Let's go outside.”

 

“Why?” he asked, obediently following her nonetheless.

 

“Because,” she said simply. “I think it would be beneficial if I taught you some degree of martial arts. Your kodachi isn't enough, obviously. With a sword that short, you could really do some damage at a close range if you can use all weapons available to you. That includes your hands and feet.”

 

The door shut behind the pair quietly as Okita turned to face Sagara.

 

“Shall we?” he asked, drawing his blade.

 

“I don't even think that's necessary,” Sagara said quickly. “I'm not much of a swordsman—nothing close to the caliber of the Shinsengumi.”

 

Okita laughed. “That's all right. I would like to fight against your twin-katana. I have rarely fought men who can wield two blades with any skill.”

 

Sagara shrugged and drew his two katana. “If you insist.”

 

Sagara was right. Though the match lasted a few minutes, Okita was clearly a far superior swordsman. Even with his two swords, Sagara could not fight the lightning-fast Shinsengumi captain.

 

“Hmmm…” Okita mused.

 

“What?” Sagara asked, looking up at Okita. He was kneeling on the ground, completely spent by trying to keep up with Okita.

 

“You're not bad.”

 

Sagara laughed. “You realize, Okita, that you beat me in less than seven minutes?”

 

“Seven minutes is longer than most of my opponents last,” Okita said quietly, and Sagara saw his eyes turn dark and hard.

 

“While Mieko teaches Aoshi, let me teach you,” Okita offered.

 

“Would you?” Sagara asked eagerly.

 

“Of course.”

 

-----------------

 

The next morning, Mieko wandered out into the streets of Kyoto. She was bored, and needed to do something—anything. She refused to stay in Kawami's house; ever since Okita and Saitou had spoken to him about her, Kawami had given her mornings and evenings free. She was only required to be there to serve tea in the afternoons—a plan which suited Mieko perfectly. He still, however, “had it out for her,” as Nakari put it, and had made quite clear that if this arrangement were to be maintained, she would be in his bed shortly.

 

Mieko considered going to visit Okita at the Shinsengumi dojo, but decided against it. Instead, she walked past the edge of Kyoto into the hills, and onto the dirt track that led to the Sekihou camp.

 

As she picked her way down the dusty track, a light breeze picked up, fluttering her kimono sleeves and loose tendrils of hair. Though she'd put it up in a lady-like knot when she left the manor, she now pulled the pins out and let the ebony hair tumble down. Something about this felt more right—the formality of the bun troubled her, and it reminded her all too clearly of the true femininity she'd discarded years ago.

 

“I'm going to cut your hair.”

 

“But—“

 

“You won't be needing it anyway. Do you plan on getting married anytime soon, or pleasing any man with your looks? I didn't think so. Besides, it gets in the way when you fight.”

 

She didn't mind, though; she was happy the way she was. Kawami knew well enough to have stayed away from her so far—Mieko was glad she was not like Nakari or the other servant women, all of whom Kawami had bedded early in their service to him. She was not weak, like them, and she had managed to maintain her dignity.

 

“Ah, Mieko-san!” Mieko snapped out of her thoughts as Sagara's voice floated across the open grass.

 

“Sagara-san,” she acknowledge politely, as the man came running up to greet her. He smiled and took her arm, leading her through the camp.

 

“Please,” he said, smiling again. “Use my first name. I use yours; I think it only fair to return the favor.”

 

Mieko flushed and smiled. “Souzou-kun,” she repeated, teasingly. He laughed as he guided her to a large tent set slightly aside from the others.

 

“Sano! Katsu!” he called, holding the flap aside for her as she stepped in.

 

A little white blur came from nowhere and launched itself at Souzou. He stumbled as it latched around his shoulders—Sano's head peeped out from behind his captain's shoulders, unruly brown hair poking up like a tiny mountain range. His mischievous brown eyes blinked at Mieko, and she smiled at him.

 

Katsu, the other boy, stood quietly a little ways away. His long, dark hair hung over his face, obscuring one of his eyes. He was not nearly as open with his affection as Sano was, but Mieko could see he was jealous of Sano and Souzou's relationship.

 

“Ah, Sano!” Souzou cried out, grinning as he tried to detach the boy from him.

 

“Who's she?” Sano asked bluntly, pointing at Mieko. She smiled and inclined her head slightly at him, then Katsu.

 

“She's one of the captains friends, idiot,” Katsu said quietly.

 

“Oh. Why's she here?” Sano continued, cocking his head curiously.

 

“To visit,” Katsu answered simply.

 

“Oh. I see. Is she going to be visiting for long?”

 

“Baka! As if I would know,” Katsu huffed, taking a few tentative steps forward.

 

“Ohaiyo,” Mieko said softly, kneeling down so she was eye level with Katsu.

 

“Sano, Katsu, this is Sakaki Mieko,” Souzou said, trying to contain a grin.

 

“Sakaki-san,” Sano began, crawling down from Souzou's shoulder.

 

“Ah, call me Mieko-san,” she said quickly.

 

“Mieko-san,” Sano repeated obediently. “Will you be here for long?”

 

“I'm afraid not, Sano. I need to be back in Kyoto later this afternoon.”

 

“What will you do in the meantime?” Katsu asked, dark eyes regarding her curiously.

 

Mieko shrugged and glanced at Souzou. “I'm not sure. I was hoping there might be some work I could do around here…”

 

Souzou met her eyes and began thinking. “Well… Sano's constantly ruining his clothes, so they need lots of patching. And Katsu's been looking for someone to teach him to write… Sano wants to train with Fukihiro today, he's our hand-to-hand combat master. Perhaps you could watch Sano and take care of his clothes?”

 

“I can teach Katsu-kun, too.” But Mieko got the general drift of his request. He essentially wanted her to baby-sit the two boys. She was fine with that.

 

“Ah, gomen. I hate to leave you with those two, especially Sano,” Souzou apologized, ruffling the boy's hair affectionately. “But I have a great deal of business to take care of, and I don't want to just leave them here.” With a final warning to Katsu and Sano (meant especially for Sano, Mieko suspected) to behave themselves, Souzou strode off into the heart of the camp.

 

Sighing, Mieko sat down on the futon and removed her geta. Her feet were absolutely killing her.

 

“Do your feet hurt?” Katsu asked. She nodded, massaging them gently. Katsu said nothing, but she could tell he was thinking. Sano, on the other hand, was staring at her in open curiosity.

 

“Sano-kun,” she said slowly. “Would you please fetch the clothes I'm supposed to mend?” Sano nodded and went to a small, neat pile in the corner. It was then that she noticed the two small futons beside each other in the corner of the tent. Sano and Katsu lived with Souzou.

 

Sano brought the white gi with its worn out knees to her, even thinking to bring the thread, needle, and cloth to patch with. She smiled at him and beckoned for him to sit down.

 

“When do you need to go train with Fukihiro-san?” she asked quietly, drawing out a knife to cut the cloth with.

 

“The men start training an hour after lunch. Lunch won't be for another hour or so.”

 

“All right. Sit, and try to behave yourself. Also, watch what I'm doing, so someday you can do it yourself.” Mieko had never been good with young boys, having never had to take care of them.

 

Sano's face screwed up a little, but he nodded and did as he was told. “Katsu-kun,” Mieko addressed the other boy.

 

“Hai?” he replied tentatively.

 

“I'm going to teach you how to write.”

 

---------------

 

“Ah, well… No news lately, I'm afraid. Everyone seems to be lying low for now. The Bakufu, Ishin Shishi, and Shinsengumi seem to have come to a standstill,” the older man said, leaning casually against the wall of a building.

 

“Hmm. Well. All right, Okina-san. Arigatou. Keep your eyes open for me, ne?”

 

“Of course. There have been reports of some goings-on in Aizu; I have men there now, and I'm awaiting their news. There's nothing substantive, yet, of course, but I'll tell you as soon as there is.”

 

“Again, thank you.”

 

The intelligence-gathering spy nodded and slipped away, as Aoshi stood and walked into the street. The two had been inconspicuously standing beside a soba shop, and had just as inconspicuously disappeared into the crowd.

 

----------------

 

Mieko left Sano and Katsu with Fukihiro that afternoon and set out on her own. Sano's newly mended gi lay folded neatly on his futon, while the page of Katsu's neat printing lay on his. The two had done well that morning, Sano managing to keep quiet throughout Katsu's lesson. Mieko suspected that Sano had either fallen asleep or was paying attention as much as Katsu was to the lesson.

 

She found Souzou sparring with another man with only one katana, dancing lightly on his toes. Despite his protests, Mieko saw, Souzou was no run-of-the-mill swordsman.

 

She watched them complete the match, and the other man walked off smiling. Souzou noticed her and came to sit beside her. She noticed he was sweating profusely—the day was hot—and it ran in not-so-thin rivulets down his bare back. As he began to clean his sword, she walked over to a tub of cool water filled with small cloths floating in it. She lifted one out, wrung it, and then returned to the sweating man. As she wiped him down he struck up a conversation.

 

“How did everything go this morning?” he asked, wiping sweat from his brow and stretching.

 

“All right. Katsu is a fast learner; he's very good with his hands. Perhaps you could find him useful work…? He can fold origami quite proficiently, learned how to handle a brush in less than half an hour, and even picked up some sewing.”

 

“Yes, I always figured as much with Katsu. He used to sit and watch me paint—“

 

“You paint?” she interrupted, rather rudely, she noted.

 

“Yes. Or, I used to. When things weren't so…busy.”

 

“Ah.” She remembered Souzou was samurai; as a child, he certainly would have had time for such recreation. Which reminded her…

 

But Souzou had already continued talking. “All the other captains think I should set Katsu to gunpowder mixing and explosives. His deftness would quickly make him an expert in the field, and we could use such expertise. But…” he said slowly. “I can't bear to get him involved in this like that. Sano, either.”

 

“Sano gets himself involved, though,” Mieko pointed out.

 

“Sano's like that. Katsu's smart enough to stay out of it.” She didn't argue the point.

 

“I just can't… I can't let Sano and Katsu become what I've become.”

 

Mieko let her toweled hand fall away as she stared at Souzou in disbelief. “What?”

 

“Do you realize, Mieko, what I've done to get here?”

 

“No, I don't, Souzou-kun, but I imagine it can't be any worse than what I've done.” He noticed her eyes were hard and dark.

 

“Then you understand.”

 

“Tell me,” she demanded.

 

“Tell you what?”

 

“Everything. Why you're here. What you've done. Why you're not living quietly on some manor tucked away in the hills, growing rice, married with children—like most samurai. Why you'd sacrifice your life for these men, most of whom you don't know, and—“ she said, dropping her voice, “Why you'd sacrifice your life for me, or Okita, or Aoshi.”

 

He was quiet for a minute, letting the wind whistle through the camp and fill his silence. “I don't want to be like most samurai,” he began quietly. Mieko set down her towel and sat beside him, hands folded in her lap, waiting for him to continue.

 

“Most samurai… I couldn't stand to be most samurai. When I was twenty, I was all set to become most samurai. The damn spitting image of my father. Everything was arranged just right—the house was prepared, the fortune I could use to start myself, my family had even picked out a bride for me.

 

“And then… One year, on a whim, almost, I started traveling Japan. My family's rich—we became a samurai family through wealth, not birth—so it wasn't a huge matter. I visited so many places: Edo, Kyoto, Hiroshima, Aizu, just to name a few. And what I saw there changed everything for me.

 

“As I walked those streets, I realized what a spoiled child I'd been. How easy my life had been. And then it dawned on me—my life was easy, my life was good, because someone else's wasn't. Someone else was suffering, Mieko, someone else was living in the streets and begging for food. Someone else was the one whose father died robbing a store to feed his family, someone else was the one whose mother died from syphilis selling herself in a brothel.

 

“I never knew anything, Mieko, anything. I never knew pain, or suffering, or poverty. Never. But that's what the world is, now—winners and losers. Someone wins only because someone else loses. That's it. That's the world—my world—in a nutshell.

 

“I went back home, but things were never the same. I couldn't look at my family the same way. I kept thinking about how the upper classes were taking advantage of the lower classes, how unwittingly—because I refuse to believe that those I knew did it intentionally—people like my father took part in extortion and greed. It sickened me.

 

“So one day I left. Believe me, it caused a huge ruckus. Everyone hated me—my father, brothers, sisters, mother, intended fiancée and her family. But I couldn't stay. I had to get out—had to find my own way to live. I couldn't live the life of a wealthy samurai while I knew what I did. I ended up joining the Ishin Shishi, because they said they would take down the Shogunate. I reasoned that since the Shogunate was the entity that kept the class system in place, taking it down could only do good.

 

“I've kept true to that belief, Mieko. I've worked for the Ishin Shishi on the condition that I stay out of their politics. I don't care what they think or want—I just want my men to know the kind of life I did. Even reasonably close to my life would be good enough. I want their children to grow up the way I did, I want their wives to have what my mother and sisters will have.

 

“I did a lot of dirty things in the beginning. Arson, murder, robbery—you name it, I probably did it. But then someone in the government decided I was more useful elsewhere. They'd finally gotten around to listening to the common people, the merchants and the farmers. So they organized the Sekihou, and asked me to lead it. Now I've left my dark past behind and look forward to a bright future. Japan's future is bright, Mieko, if only men would look for it.”

 

He fell silent, staring at his clasped hands, until then unaware that Mieko held them in her own.

 

“Souzou-kun…” she murmured.

 

“Hai?”

 

“Please… don't let them take advantage of you,” she whispered.

 

“Ara? You're sounding like Fukihiro.”

 

“Maybe… maybe I'm worrying where I shouldn't be… But a man like you, Souzou, a man with a dream and the power and courage to fulfill it—that must scare men driven by greed and power.”

 

“Ah, Mieko-san. Don't worry. I'll be fine,” he reassured her, squeezing her small white hands.

 

She nodded and stood. “I'd better be going back to Kyoto. I'll be needed in a few hours.”

 

He nodded in turn and stood with her. “I'll lead you to the edge of the camp. I'd walk with you to Kyoto, but I'm needed here. Will you be all right?”

 

“Hai, Souzou-kun. Don't worry about me,” Mieko reassured him, patting her right wrist, where one of many suntetsus was concealed.

 

---------------

 

The original pairs stuck; Aoshi and Mieko were most fit to work together, while Sagara and Okita were both practiced swordsmen. Okita, the tactical master, determined that he and Sagara should hold off anyone else, allowing Aoshi and Mieko to slip behind the lines of fire and take care of their job.

 

Though none of them spoke it, they all knew what the task they were undertaking was. It was natural for Mieko and Okita; they each respectively lived the motto of, “Aku, Soku, Zan.” As long as they stood by that, then what they did was palatable. Even Aoshi, though he was not a practiced assassin/ninja, knew somewhat of what he was getting himself into, and did not shy away from it. Sagara, however, though he did not avoid it, knew that he was going back to who he had been early in the Revolution. The thought at once repulsed him, but the fact that this would somehow be different kept him tied to the other three.

 

For the first three weeks, the four met at the safe house and trained. Aoshi had received no news from his Okashira of intelligence. Okita had heard nothing from the Shinsengumi—nothing, at least, that the Shinsengumi had not taken care of on their own. Sagara, not surprisingly, offered no information. And Mieko was stunned by Kawami's unusual silence.

 

On the fourth week, as Mieko was struggling with udon, Aoshi slipped in and crouched down beside her.

 

“I have news,” he said simply, and those three words brought a halt to all other activity in the small house.

 

“What is it?” Okita asked tentatively, standing behind Mieko, almost using her as a shield. If he had been inclined, and the mood had not been so serious, Sagara would have laughed.

 

“In Aizu,” Aoshi began slowly. “There are several factions joining together to fight. According to my onmitsu they're causing quite a stir in the streets and problems for many residents. Not to mention their illegal weapons deals. Normally something the Shinsengumi would take care of, were they in Kyoto.” Okita nodded. “Only thing is… they're Shogunate supporters.”

 

Silence fell over the room. Sagara looked down at the floor, while Aoshi and Okita locked eyes. After a moment, Mieko shrugged her shoulders and went back to chopping vegetables for dinner. Sagara slipped outside for a moment, mumbling something about wood for the fire.

 

“Could you do it?” Aoshi whispered over the steady click of Mieko's knife.

 

“Shirimasen…” Okita murmured.

 

“You're going to have to decide soon.”

 

“Ah…”

 

The gentle clicking stopped, and Mieko padded quietly outside. Aoshi and Okita needed time by themselves now. She found Souzou sitting at the edge of the clearing, back towards the house, facing the dense forest. She settled herself beside him and smoothed her kimono neatly.

 

“How are they?”

 

“Talking,” she answered simply.

 

“Ah.”

 

“They both need time to think.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Could we do it without them?”

 

“I doubt it. Besides, would you really want to do it without them?”

 

Mieko's eyes widened in surprise. She hadn't thought about that… Now that Souzou mentioned it, she hadn't carried out any assassinations since she'd met the other three. And he was right; she didn't think she really wanted to go to Aizu by herself, as she once would have.

 

“No, I don't want to,” she said quietly. “But if they won't go, and it's as bad as Aoshi says it is, then I'd go myself anyway.”

 

Souzou turned to look at her, and found she was looking upwards and away from him, into the highest branches of the pines. He studied her for a moment, then nodded.

 

“I understand. If you do end up going by yourself… Please tell me. I wouldn't dare go with you—I'm not the kind of fighter you want along on an assassination—but I do want to know where you are and whether or not you've lived. Although I assume you'd survive,” he stammered quickly.

 

She smiled wryly. “Of course.” After a moment of silence, she stood and brushed off her kimono. “I'd better finish the udon.”