From: WildWyrick@aol.com

Hi, guys!  No quickie summary this time, 'cause parts 1-5 are up at the 
T.e.a.h.o.u.s.e. (www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Teahouse/6196).  So many characters 
to deal with in this section!  I hope the momentum from the last chapter is 
sustained, but I just don't know...

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Elizabeth


Those Days Are Written On My Heart

* A Rurouni Kenshin fanfic written for entertainment
purposes only.  Rurouni Kenshin characters are the property
of Nobuhiro Watsuki


Part 6:  Casting the Die


    Kaoru heard the door slam behind her, followed by
the sound of a key turning in the lock.  As heavy footsteps
faded away down the corridor she finally allowed herself to
give in to the weakness she had felt since parting with
Kenshin on the beach.  Sinking to her knees, Kaoru rested
her forehead against the smooth wood of the door.  Tears
threatened to overpower her, but they were forced back
resolutely.  She had to be strong.  Kenshin had promised he
would come for her.
 
    But what was happening to him?  Had she done the
right thing to stop him from fighting, or had her interference
only made things worse?  The questions repeated endlessly
in her mind until she felt she would go mad.

    Kaoru pushed her hair away from her eyes with a
shaking hand, willing herself to stay calm.  Saitoh had
approved of her actions.  That oddly comforting thought
was quickly replaced by concern for the policeman.  When
they arrived on the gunboat, they had been separated
immediately.  She had been led to the aft of the ship by the
lieutenant, but he had been prodded below decks by the
sailors.  

    He was unusually pale when they parted, his jacket
caked with blood.  Kaoru wondered what circumstances he
was in now, and if they were worse than her own.  She
raised her head abruptly, her eyes widening in shock as she
noticed her surroundings for the first time.

    Slowly, very slowly, Kaoru pushed herself to her
feet.

    She had never imagined a cabin such as the one that
she now found herself in.  Even though the "Nayezdnik"
was a vessel of war, there were jewel-hued rugs scattered
across the floor.  A table rested against one side of the
cabin, its rich, dark wood gleaming.  Above it, a small
painting captured her attention.  Kaoru stared at a scene of
a hunting dog holding a limp, bleeding dove in its jaws.  For
a moment she was caught in its spell, the illusion so
complete she felt if she reached out and freed the
unfortunate bird, it would fly away.

    Kaoru flinched, dropping her eyes.  When she raised
them again, they focused on a bed that stood in the corner,
heavy and imposing.  She wondered whose room this was,
what kind of man would choose to wake every morning to
such a painting.  It was a painfully strange contrast, the
casual viciousness of the dog and the fragile, stained
feathers of the dove.

    Thin beads of sweat pricked Kaoru's scalp, tracing
their way down her neck.  The room was silent except for
her own tense breathing and the sound of water lapping
against the hull of the ship.  A beam of light cut across the
center of the cabin, glittering off an object on the table.  She
tore her eyes away from the painting and moved toward it
slowly, feeling as if she were swimming through deep water.  

    It was a photograph.  Gently she lifted it, the gilt
frame cool and heavy in her hands.

    A young Western woman gazed back at Kaoru
through the thin window of glass.  She was wearing a long
dress of fine material and held a small, stringed instrument
on her lap with careless ease.  A faint smile curved her lips
and her eyes sparkled mischievously, as if she were teasing
the photographer or sharing a private joke.

    "What do you think of her?"  

    Kaoru started, the picture slipping through her
fingers to fall with a clatter onto the table.   

#

    The wooden board was suspended from the deck
above by four thick chains.  It swung gently with the motion
of the ship, hanging at a comfortable, waist-high level for
the men who stood around it.   It was as long as a tall man
and as wide as a fat one.  Saitoh fit it with no difficulty.

    He lay on his back, stripped to the waist, his wrists
bound at his sides by leather straps.  Sturdy iron pegs
attached them to the board.  He might have been able to pull
them out, but he had no desire to waste his strength. 
Instead, he contented himself with studying the faces that
passed back and forth above his own.

    Three sailors who had brought him there lounged
against the wall.  Bored, restless, they clearly yearned to
return above deck.

    An older man, his beard gray, his uniform slightly
frayed.  He held a bottle of clear liquid in one hand and a
cloth in the other.  The surgeon.

    A boy, watching him curiously.  The surgeon's
assistant, or maybe just a gawker.  Saitoh's amber gaze
flicked to his face and the boy dropped his eyes nervously,
stepping away from the board.

    And finally... there was a man standing in the
doorway, just out of Saitoh's line of vision.  The only sign of
his presence was the smell of tobacco and a thin stream of
smoke that swirled upwards, reaching across the ceiling like
white fingers.

    The surgeon leaned across Saitoh, trying to place
the cloth over his nose.  Saitoh turned away.  The surgeon
said something to one of the sailors, and Saitoh's head was
immediately locked between strong hands.  The cloth
covered his face, but he refused to breathe the fumes that
came from it.  After a few moments the surgeon lifted it
away.  His eyes widened in surprise as he realized his
patient was still conscious.  Saitoh looked up at him coldly.

    "Why do you wish to suffer?"  The voice came from
the doorway, behind the surgeon.  The Japanese was
accented, but entirely understandable.

    "I wish to remain my own master."

    "As you will."  A few words were spoken in
Russian, and the surgeon put the cloth down, looking
skeptical.  He felt the wound in Saitoh's shoulder, probing
for the bullet.  Then he picked up a scalpel.

    Saitoh stared up at the chains above him.  The links
ground together slightly as the surgeon worked, filling the
air with a fine dusting of rust.  Their creaking punctuated
the silence. 

#

    The captain of the "Nayezdnik" was a not a small
man.  He filled the doorway of the cabin both vertically and
horizontally, blocking any view Kaoru might have had of
the corridor outside.  She stared at him in silence, unable to
believe his size.  Even his beard was huge, a great mass of
unruly, graying wire.  Shining medals blanketed his chest,
but what victories they commemorated she couldn't even
begin to guess.  He didn't look like a man who could fight
with great skill, but his size alone would give him the
advantage against many opponents.  Even his voice was
large, too loud for the modest size of the cabin.

    "Well, what do you think of her?"

    Slowly, Kaoru realized she understood his words. 
She picked up the photograph, surprised to find her hands
were steady.  The young woman smiled up at her
sympathetically.  "Is...is she your daughter?"

    The Russian gave a short, mirthless laugh as he
crossed the room to Kaoru's side.  "My wife, the Baroness. 
She fancies herself a musician and fills our house in
Sebastopol with her bohemian friends and their peasant
songs."  He smiled down at Kaoru and she found herself
disliking the expression in his eyes.  "I prefer to stay at sea."

    Kaoru placed the photograph carefully on the table. 
While doing so, she moved as far away from this strange
man as she dared.  He continued to watch her, and she felt
the blood rising in her cheeks.  "I think you are lucky to
have such a wife," she ventured.  "She seems... good-
humored.  And gentle."

    "Looks are often deceiving.  You appear gentle as
well, and yet I think you are not."  The gaze that probed her
face was surprisingly penetrating.  "Don't drop your eyes,
my dear.  It is too late to hide behind a pretense of girlish
modesty.  But I am forgetting my duties as a host."

    The Russian turned away and poured two drinks
from a silver flask.  "I am the captain of the 'Nayezdnik',
Konstantin Petrovich Ivanoff."  He bowed slightly,
reminding Kaoru of a great tree swaying in the wind. 
"Everything that concerns my ship concerns me.  So if my
men tell me a beautiful spy has compromised our mission
here, well... I will find out what she knows, one way or
another."  He held a glass out to Kaoru.  "Have some
brandy, my dear.  You look pale."

    Kaoru accepted the glass with a nod, but did not
drink from it.  "The man who was brought here with me... I
must know if he is safe."

    The captain raised an eyebrow in surprise.  "Is he
your husband?"

    "No."

    "Your lover?  Or merely an accomplice with
information you don't wish divulged?"  He studied her
expression.  "Not your lover, I see, so I must assume the
latter.  I suppose even adventuresses like yourself have
some scruples, after all."

    "I don't understand."

    "The boy on the beach.  My men said you two were
very... friendly... when you parted.  I thought perhaps both
of them enjoyed your favors-"  He broke off, looking at her
curiously.  "Are those real tears, my dear, or did you
conjure them for my benefit?"

    "Of course they're real!"  Kaoru flung the glass at
him, wishing she had a more potent weapon.  It hit the
center of his chest, darkening the front of his splendid
uniform.  Kaoru stood facing him, panting, heedless of the
tears that suddenly spilled from her eyes.  It was one thing
to lock her away, to leave her in a torment of uncertainty. 
But to defile that memory, to speak of her feelings for
Kenshin with such cheap words...

    The captain slowly removed a handkerchief from his
pocket and wiped away the brandy hanging in droplets from
his beard.  Only when he had finished and replaced it did he
look at her.  "I see I was right when I said you weren't
gentle."  Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist with a speed
that surprised her.  "I will have to teach you manners."

    As he pulled her to him, Kaoru struck out with her
other hand.  It, too, was caught in a vise-like grip.  She
struggled to free herself, but the captain's strength and
weight were both far greater than her own.  Where was
Kenshin?  He always came for her, rescued her regardless of
the danger to himself.  When Gohey had held her helpless,
like this...

    But that was long ago and hundreds of miles away. 
Another lifetime.  Kenshin had tried to save her on the
beach, but she had refused his help.  He would have
preferred to die fighting than to be slowly killed by the
sailors, but she had denied him that honorable death.  The
thought of him suffering made her sick and she hung limply
in the Russian's grasp.  His insults seemed suddenly
insignificant compared to the pain she carried in her heart.
"Tell me they are safe," she said quietly.  "Just tell me
they're safe, and you can think whatever you want of me."

    To her surprise her captor's grip loosened slightly,
although he still held her firmly.  "Tell me what I want to
know and I will give you your answer."

    "What do you want me to say?  That we are spies,
when we are not?"  Kaoru shook her head wearily.  "It's
true I'm not gentle.  I am not good, and I'm afraid I have
betrayed-" the words choked her and for a moment she
couldn't speak.  "But if I did, it wasn't for my own benefit,
but because...because..."

    "Because you love that boy?  Well, this does make
the situation interesting.  Your government should be
careful to avoid these kinds of entanglements between its
agents."

    "We aren't spies."

    "You know, my dear, something about your face
makes me want to believe you.  Maybe it's your eyes. 
They're quite beautiful.  Your passion makes me rather
jealous of that young man.  But, alas, when the "Nayezdnik"
is involved-"  He was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door. 
"Yes?"

    The lieutenant entered and saluted.  His face
reddened as he took in the strange scene of his captain
holding up the young girl so that her feet barely touched the
floor.  A few words passed between them and the lieutenant
withdrew, glancing surreptitiously at Kaoru as he closed the
door.

    She looked up fearfully into the captain's face but his
expression was unreadable.  Slowly, he set her on her feet
and released her wrists.  "It seems I have a visitor.  I must
leave you to reflect on your lack of manners and the
confession you will make when I return."  

    "Is it...?"  Kaoru blurted out the words in spite of
herself.

    "No, my dear, it is not your gallant young man.  Do
not expect him to rescue you.  You will not see him again
unless you tell me what I want to know."  And with that he
withdrew, leaving Kaoru in solitude.

#

    Saitoh could pinpoint the exact moment the surgeon
found the bullet with his scalpel.  It was as if, his shoulder
already on fire, someone had stirred the flames with a red-
hot poker.  He half-expected it to be molten, but the bullet
made an entirely solid <ping> when the surgeon dropped
into the pan his boy held out to receive it.  Saitoh felt as if
he had been holding his breath for minutes only to suddenly
find he was able to breathe again.  He exhaled heavily,
willing himself to stay in control of his body.  But despite
his efforts to concentrate the surgeon's face blurred above
him, and for a few moments he drifted in a gray sea.

    When he came to himself again, the surgeon was
binding his shoulder with strips of linen.  Saitoh lifted his
shoulder slightly to make the task easier but was hampered
by his bonds.   He scowled down at the leather straps,
considering.

    "You might pull your left arm free, but not your
right."  The surgeon finished his task and moved away,
reveling the speaker.  A lanky young officer lounged in the
doorway, his thoughtful gaze resting on Saitoh's face.  A
half-smoked cigarette dangled from the side of his mouth. 
The policeman's eyes flicked over him, taking note of the
long saber encased in a gleaming steel scabbard that hung at
his belt.  The Russian held Kenshin's sakabattou in one hand
and Saitoh's katana in the other.  He smiled thinly as he
examined it.  "A fine blade, too fine for an ordinary
policeman.  And this sword with the reverse edge-- very
strange.  I haven't seen its like before.  I'm sure there's a
story behind it all."  He crossed to Saitoh's side.  "I can't
wait to hear it."

    "I'm afraid you'll have to.  I don't care to explain it
to you at the moment."

    To Saitoh's surprise, the young man did not appear
to be angry.  "Hmm, bold words under the circumstances.  I
see you are a blunt man and pain means little to you, but
your face tells me the loss of this sword means a great deal. 
Has it ever been taken from you before?  Have you ever
been made a captive, found yourself bound and helpless like
this?"

    "No," Saitoh answered truthfully.  "Have you?"

    "No.  But I am the one who should ask the
questions."  The young man smiled down at him.  "I
watched the whole surgery.  Do you know what I thought? 
I thought, 'Dmitri, this man is not like others.  He will not
succumb to the pressure of your questioning as all normal
men do.  You must think of something better than the usual
methods of interrogation if you want to get him to talk.' 
What do you think of that?"

    "Very little,"  Saitoh grunted, straining to lift his left
wrist.  To his annoyance the leather strap held firm.

    "You'll make your shoulder bleed again if you do
that," the Russian said.  "Stop trying to break free for a
moment and listen to me.  I have a gentleman's proposition
for you."

    Saitoh met his gaze evenly, but said nothing.

    "I believe you are an agent of the Japanese
government, not just a simple policeman.  I must find out
what you know about our mission here and our plans.  But
unfortunately, you are one of those rare few who will die
before they tell what they know.  I dislike such
wastefulness.  So I propose this instead: a game of dice. 
When I win a toss you must answer one of my questions
truthfully, on your honor.  But if you win a toss you may
ask me a question and I will answer truthfully.  What do you
say?  You have just as much to gain as to lose."

    Saitoh was silent for a moment, considering.  Then
he said, "I will play your game.  But when I regain my
katana..."

    The Russian nodded.  "Of course.  *If* you regain
your sword, we will begin an altogether different kind of
game."  He called out and two sailors entered, each armed
with a revolver.  They covered Saitoh as the Russian placed
the swords he held against the wall and loosened the straps
binding his prisoner's wrists.  The policeman sat up slowly,
regarding the young man beside him with narrowed eyes. 
He was as thin and strong as a blade, and moved with the
grace of a skilled swordsman.  <Do not underestimate him>
he warned himself.

    "Come with me."  Tossing Saitoh's jacket to him and
taking up the swords again, the young man ushered his
prisoner out of the room.  They walked down the corridor
in silence.  The sailors followed, eyeing Saitoh watchfully.

#

    "So the girl was lying to me.  She really is an agent
of the Japanese government."

    "Absolutely, Excellency."  Kitsune smiled up at the
captain, gauging his response.  The Russian seemed
almost... disappointed.  "They are all highly gifted spies,
sent here because the government suspects your ships have
been entering these waters.   The one pretending to be a
policeman is the most dangerous.  'Saitoh the Slasher', he is
called.  I know of at least three of your countrymen he has
killed in the last year."

    "Really?  But what about the young man and the
girl?"

    "The red-haired boy?  He is the most subtle poisoner
working for the Meiji government.  He's not a formidable
fighter like Saitoh, but still very dangerous.  And the 'lovely'
young girl?  She's just a whore from the docks of
Nagasaki."  Kitsune smirked, "She's good at playing
innocent and getting information out of men, though."

    "Hmm..." the captain was silent for a while,
considering.  Then he took a sip of brandy.  "Thank you for
this information.  You can be sure I will deal with them as
they deserve.  But you said you had information to sell. 
What information and at what price?"

    Kitsune sensed the lieutenant shifting behind him,
but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the captain's face. 
"What would you pay for secret plans of the new fortress
that will be constructed at Shimonoseki?"  He leaned back
in his chair, smiling slightly.  He found the change in the
captain's expression extremely gratifying.

    "My government would pay handsomely," Ivanoff
admitted.  "But the 'Nayezdnik' is here on an altogether
different mission and I have no great amount of gold or
rubles on board."

    "Give me what you have and the head of the agent
Saitoh.  As long as he breathes, I can't work in Japan."

    The captain stared at him in wonder.  "That's a
barbaric request!"

    "It is my price," Kitsune said serenely.

    "Where are the plans?  Do you have them now?"

    "They are safe.  When you have brought what
valuables you can gather, I will take you to them."

    #

    "Where are we?"  Saitoh had just won the toss.  He
leaned lightly on the table with his good arm, his eyes fixed
on the young man who stood across from him.

    "That's a rather wasteful question, isn't it?  Don't
you know where your own government sent you?"

    "Answer it."

    The young man frowned.  "The northern coast of
Hokkaido."  He scooped up the die and tossed them with a
quick flick of the wrist.  Saitoh frowned at the outcome. 
"What is your name?  Your real name-- no aliases."

    "Saitoh Hajime."  The Russian wrote it down in a
small book.  He placed the book on the side of the table and
lit a cigarette.  "Isn't this more pleasant than most
interrogations?  Would you care to smoke?"

    Wordlessly, Saitoh accepted a cigarette.  He took a
long pull on it, watching the young man through narrowed
eyes.  His katana and the sakabattou stood against the
opposite wall, behind the Russian.  They were alone in the
room but he suspected the sailors who had escorted him
there were still standing guard just outside.

    His suspicions were confirmed by the sound of
voices in the corridor.  One of the sailors entered and spoke
to his captor in a low voice.  Saitoh couldn't understand
what was being said but he could tell from the man's face
that something unexpected had happened.  After the sailor
had been dismissed, the Russian turned back to Saitoh and
scooped up the die.  Once again Saitoh made an incorrect
call and the toss went to his captor.

    "What is your mission?"

    "I am following a traitor to our nation.  It is my duty
to see him brought to justice."

    "What has he done?"

    "That's another question."  Saitoh gestured to the
die.  "Answers are not free.  You must win if you want to
know."

    The Russian slowly ground out his cigarette.  "I
don't have to play this game anymore.  He has plans to the
new Shimonoseki fortress and you want them back.  But
you're too late."  Saitoh said nothing.  His gaze, as cool and
impassive as ever, didn't stray from his captor's face.  "The
plans will soon be in our possession.  And I regret to inform
you Captain Ivanoff purchased them with the promise of
your death."
___________
Hopefully, Chapter 7 before *too* long, but I won't even begin to speculate.  
I'm such an optimist, and never get stuff written as fast as I think I will.  
Aarrgh!

A side note: On the subject of self-insertion in fics...

I have a friend who says no fic is complete unless the author places 
him/herself somewhere in the action.  When I told this friend about "Those 
Days" he said I had to find a way to self-insert.  My first thought was, 
"Naah.  There's no way to do that in this fic.  Impossible!"  But then I had 
one of those *third path* moments, and thought of a way it just might be 
possible to answer his challenge and do a little character development for 
Captain Ivanoff at the same time.  Hence the photo of the Baroness.  
Fortunately, my husband is quite different from Ivanoff!  ^__^  Still, the 
captain isn't *such* a bad guy, ne?

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