From: "Naga" This is a re-post of a revised Chapter 7, due to a lot of mistakes in the previous postings ^_^;;. Also added Misao and Aoshi's age at this time in the notes. Thank you very much to B.NA-san for her help in catching the mistakes! ^____^ ================== Disclaimer : This fanfic is based on Rurouni Kenshin by Nobuhiro Watsuki. I'm not getting paid for this (I wish!) and no copyright infringement was intended. And please don't sue because I'm just a poor student. Now that that's taken care of... =================== ** is emphasis {} is thoughts This story is set in Bakumatsu 1865, a few months after Tomoe died. So it's a story of Himura Kenshin's time when he is still Hitokiri Battousai. Some possible spoilers for Revenge arc and the Tsuioku OAV. Previous chapters can be found in Miss Led's Fan-fiction page : http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Fuji/7081/Welcome.htm and Lady Amalthea's web-page T.e.a.h.o.u.s.e : http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Teahouse/6196/ (thank you both of you!) =================== The Darkest Shadows, The Brightest Lights by Naga Chapter 7 : Interlude --- Edo, Shogun’s castle A golden koi broke the surface of the lavish man-made pond, shattering the tranquil mirror-perfect reflection of soaring towers and somber, sprawling edifices. Fins and scales glittering like true gold, the fish plunged back into the water with a subdued splash. A man with snowy-white hair sat cross-legged on an ornamental red bridge spanning the far end of the large pond. A baby toddler in too-large clothes was playing by herself on the bridge behind him. Her large eyes were squinted in concentration as she tried to snag some cat-tails growing below the bridge, leaning rather precariously out of the safety of the bridge. The man did not seem to notice though. His eyes were intent on a boy no more than twelve years of age. Floating on the surface of the water were pieces of planks, barely large enough to stand on. The boy was moving rapidly, stepping from one plank of wood to another in seemingly random selection. However, his movement was too graceful and fluid to be described as such. Rather, he seemed to *dance* on the surface of the water, the half-submerged planks lending to the illusion. He never stayed in one place for long, long legs almost flickering as he flitted from one plank to the other, weight and balance perfectly controlled so not one step-point received enough force to sink. A kodachi was gripped in his right hand, the fine blue steel throwing flashes of quick-silver light as he spun it in an intricate kata of flowing movements. His still boyish face was drawn in intense concentration, unusual in one so young. The sitting man gave a small approving nod, lost on the distracted boy. A smile creased the man’s wide mouth, and he quietly picked up a small stone. He waited until the boy was facing away from him, then in one smooth motion pitched the small projectile at the boy’s back. The boy whirled around and his kodachi swung up in a blur that struck the stone away from his chest. But he could not compensate for the sudden motion and with a faint bitten-off yelp, his left leg plunged through the water, unbalancing him. He was saved from a humiliating dump into the water by some frantic hops that got both his feet down on the bottom of the waist-deep pond. But the inevitable splashing managed to get him quite thoroughly sopping wet. He wordlessly pulled his sodden ponytail away from his face and peered up through dripping bangs at the white-haired man, who was openly chortling. His mute gaze spoke of his protest quite succinctly. The person responsible for his dunking merely grinned unapologetically at the boy, wagging one finger mockingly. “You were doing the Ryuusui no Ugoki very well. And I’ll give you another bonus point for catching my stone. But if you lose your rhythm every time you defend against an unexpected attack, then you might as well be fish-food, Aoshi.” Aoshi resignedly hitched himself out of the pond. From his weary acceptance, it would seem that pond-dunking was a fairly common occurrence. “Hai, Okashira.” The 16th Okashira of Edo jo Oniwabanshuu, Makimachi Hayato, gave his favourite student a wide grin. “Maa, maa, don’t be disappointed, you were doing the Kenbu steps very well. If you keep on at the rate you’re going, you’ll soon master the combined water-flow steps and kodachi attacks. Maybe I can even start you on the Kodachi Niitou Ryuu before you’re even fifteen.” As he spoke, the man casually reached a hand behind him to snag the toddler who was just about to fall into the pond herself. The little girl wriggled unhappily in the old man’s embrace, then she caught sight of Aoshi, dripping his way towards the bridge, and she broke into a delighted squeal. Aoshi eyed her morosely as he knelt in front of Makimachi. “She’s laughing at me.” “No, she’s not,” Makimachi retorted. “She’s just always happy to see you, that’s all. Naa, aren’t you happy to see Aoshi-kun, Misao-chan?” “Ao-chan! Ao-chan!” Misao-chan agreed loudly, all the while trying to wriggle herself out of Makimachi’s grasp. “I wonder why she kept calling you that,” Makimachi mused aloud, eyes glinting wickedly at the boy’s rather pained look. “It’s Hara-san,” Aoshi replied with a carefully neutral face. “She and the others kept calling me –chan and Misao picked up on that.” “Ah-hah, and she can’t pronounce Ao-Shi yet, can she?” Makimachi bounced Misao-chan lightly to get her attention and asked her in all seriousness, “Misao-chan. Can you say AO – SHI? A-O-SHI.” He blithely ignored the owner of the name’s indignant look. “Okashira, she really can’t...” “Ao-Chyan!! Ao-Chyan!!” “...say my name yet,” Aoshi finished with a sigh. “Ao-chyan Dai-suki!” Makimachi laughed out loud, the deep sound resonating in the quiet garden. “Well, at least she got the first part right. I think we’ll wait a while before letting her call you by your surname.” “She...tried,” Aoshi carefully. It had been less than successful. In fact, it had been rather spectacularly un-successful. Misao-chan finally succeeded in wriggling herself out of Makimachi’s arms, and she ran straight towards Aoshi. She ignored the uncomfortably wet clothes in the way very young children would and plunked herself on Aoshi’s lap. She beamed up at Aoshi’ s rather embarassed face. “Ara!” Makimachi exclaimed in mock horror at the abandonment. “Misao-chan doesn’t like Ojiichan?” the old man asked the toddler piteously, though his laughing eyes belied his tone. Misao-chan chirped up brightly, “Jiichan, jiichyan suki-da!” But she did not let go of her grip on Aoshi’s tunic. “But Misao-chan like Aoshi-chan better, ne?” Misao-chan nodded vigorously, her tiny heart-shaped face glowing with happiness,“Ao-chyan daisuki! Ao-chyan!” The young boy tried to maintain a stoic expression, but it was hard with a pair of tiny arms wrapped almost suffocatingly around his throat. The old man’s face was one of artfully heart-broken expression, his voice wavering tremulously as he asked the little girl, “Misao-chan like Ao-chan more than she likes Ojiichan. Nobody wants Ojiichan anymore, Ojiichan is so sad...” Misao-chan peered up from where her face was buried on Aoshi’s chest and looked back and forth between her grandfather and Aoshi. Her tiny face was starting to scrunch up in distress, one hand letting go of Aoshi’s tunic to reach towards her grandfather. “Ojiichyan daisuki! Ao-chyan daisuki.” But she did not move from her position in Aoshi’s lap. Aoshi looked at her apprehensively, awkwardness and embarassment warring with increasing alarm. He had some idea of where this would inevitably lead to. Misao-chan’s eyes were starting to tear up, and she finally wailed, “Ojiichyan to Ao-chyan to daisukiii!!!” Aoshi winced at her wail and clumsily tried to soothe the sobbing toddler by patting her back. Makimachi threw his head back and burst into deep-throated laughter, slapping his folded knees with merriment. Very few things could break the boy’s almost unnatural composure, so the sight of him being completely overwhelmed by a two-year old toddler was very precious indeed. Little Misao had done more to draw young Aoshi out of his shell than any other person, and that effect was not exclusive to Aoshi alone. Her birth two years ago had been like a ray of light in the collective Oniwabanshu’s normally quiet and still life. Like a breath of fresh wind and life. Even after the death of her parents. {Shinzo, Miharu, if you two could only see her now...} A middle–aged plump woman emerged from the side wing, bearing some steaming tea cups. Her kindly face lit up at the scene. “Ara, Makimachi-sama, have you been teasing Misao-chan again?” she asked her Makimachi with fond exasperation. “Why, Marida-san,” Makimachi grinned back at her, “why do you always assume it’s me? Aoshi is the one holding her right now.” Marida looked at the slightly flustered boy, trying his best to still the toddler’s crying fit, with little success, and huffed slightly, “Aoshi-kun is too good a boy to make Misao cry, Makimachi-sama. It’s her grandfather who always tease her into crying.” She moved in swiftly and attempted to take the crying little girl into her arms. Or at least, she tried. Despite the sobs and hiccups that shook her whole tiny body, Misao’s chubby fingers were firmly knotted into the fabric of Aoshi’s wet suit. When Marida tried to pry her loose from Aoshi, Misao-chan emitted an indignant little cry and burrowed her face even deeper against Aoshi’s chest. Makimachi roared again with laughter and Marida could not help but chuckle. A slight blush rose in Aoshi’s normally expressionless face as he looked down helplessly at the tenacious toddler who seemed determined to become a permanent fixture to his body. “Ara, Aoshi-kun,” Marida chuckled softly, “She doesn’t seem to want to let go. If I force her, I’m afraid she’ll just cry even harder. I’m so sorry, but would you be so kind as to carry Misao to her bed? It’s time for her afternoon nap. She won’t be stubborn if it’s you putting her to bed, she always does listen to you best.” “...” Aoshi looked at Marida, his youthful face slightly doubtful. The silence elegantly questioned Misao-chan’s ability to listen to anyone. “Remember the last time I took her forcibly from you, Aoshi-kun?” Aoshi winced at that. ‘the last time’ was two days ago late at night. Misao-chan had stubbornly refused to sleep without him by her side. After she had fallen asleep, Marida had had to help him pry her fingers from where they were firmly wrapped around his hair. But somehow the sleeping little girl had realized what had happened. Her indignant shriek had woken up nearly the whole household that night. Makimachi gleefully supplied, “That’s my Misao-chan. She’s born with a very healthy set of lungs, I’m sure she’ll be a very strong little kunoichi when she grows up.” “A bit too strong perhaps,” Marida murmured with a slight smile. “Aoshi-kun?” Aoshi gave a nearly inaudible sigh, yielding to the inevitable. “Okashira?” he asked softly. Makimachi grinned at him, “Aa, go on. The training is over for today. Practice again by yourself, and I’ll talk to you again later.” Aoshi bowed to him, his perfect gesture of respect slightly marred by the fact that he had a two-year-old toddler clinging to his chest. Misao-chan sighed contentedly and nestled more securely into his grip. Despite his wet clothes, Aoshi’s departure was still as silent as ever. “They grew up so fast,” Marida remarked wistfully. “It seems only yesterday that Shiori gave birth to Misao-chan. And has it really been six years since Aoshi-kun came to live with us?” “Be careful, Marida-san,” Makimachi replied cheerfully, “You’re showing your age. Only old people talk about time flying past.” “Yes, yes, and I guess *you* will always be thirty, won’t you? You incorrigible old man.” “That’s right.” Makimachi grinned at her. Aoshi and Misao had disappeared into the adjacent building. Makimachi Makimachi’s face turned serious. Gone was the playful and relaxed mannerism, replaced instead with sombre gravity. “So, what’s the news from Kyoto?” Marida immediately picked up on her leader’s change of mood. She pulled out a tiny letter tube from inside the hem of her kimono and passed it over to him with both hands. Makimachi Hayato uncapped it and rolled out the small thin parchment inside. For a while, all was silent as he read the thick scrawling on it. Then, he wordlessly passed it over to Marida. Marida’s eyes went wider as she read the coded message. “This is...Makimachi-sama!” Makimachi Hayato got up and walked out to the pond-side, staring down at the now placid water. “...Okashira.” “...well, I’ve been expecting something like this to come to my hand for the last six years. And here it is.” Marida gazed at Makimachi’s back, the deceptively relaxed posture still betraying signs of tenseness to her eyes. In her heart she ached with pain...pity...resignation...and a sense of inevitability. “I will prepare for your journey to Kyoto, then,” she murmured. Makimachi nodded, his back still towards her. “Thank you.” “Are you taking any others with you?” “...No.” Marida looked down. “What about Aoshi-kun?” “He’ll be fine here. This is a good chance for him to try taking over some of the responsibilities. He’ll need a lot of leadership training. For the future.” “...that’s not what I meant.” “I know, Marida.” Makimachi’s voice was surprisingly gentle. Marida said nothing more. She bowed to him once, formally, then left the garden with the quiet steps of a trained omnitsu. Makimachi sighed once and gazed up at the clear blue sky. “What needs to be done...will be done. There is no going around this one, is there?” The heaven gave him no answers. *** --- Outskirts of Kyoto, 3 days later “Come on, people, our resting place is right over there. Walk faster, or it’ll be dark before we ever get there.” A few half-hearted groans answered Kanzaki’s order. Kyosuke replaced the straw hat he’d been fanning himself with back on his head and obediently got off the ground. The other men in their little group followed far less willingly, accompanied by a lot of groaning and complaining. Their destination could be seen from here, a sprawling house complex nestled to the forested mountainside that spread over more ground than Kyosuke would ever have believed possible. He had seen entire villages smaller than that. Before he came to Kyoto, he would never have believed such wealth existed -- and just how big a difference there could be between the rich and the poor. He hefted the thick wooden pole that he and another man was responsible for carrying, and heard the other fellow grunted with the weight of it. The sturdy basket in the middle looked no different than any other baskets that farmers habitually use to carry their products to markets. And the surface of it was indeed piled with leafy vegetables to ward off inspection. But this basket, and the other two identical baskets carried by his little group of men, contained something far heavier than any market produce. Something far more dangerous. It had been a week since they had ambushed the supply troupe. By the time anyone came to investigate the late troupe, they had long since moved the precious boxes downstream by boats. The numerous rivers around Kyoto were a very useful form of transportation. They had hid the weapons in a secure place, then Kanzaki had called on a few men to bring a sample to show to their leaders. Kyosuke had been one of them. It still took until sunset for them to arrive at the mansion. The gatekeeper recognized Kanzaki immediately and they were ushered in to the kitchen. The concealing vegetables were all taken out, the shining western rifles and the ominous gatling gun that kept giving Kyosuke the chills were all placed in one closed basket. Then Kanzaki motioned for Kyosuke to follow him. They padded through the covered walkways between buildings, Kyosuke gawking unashamedly at the exquisite gardens, ponds, and the rich paneling of the buildings. This was his first time here, although he had heard of it. The mansion was a mountain retreat of a rich merchant who was heavily involved with the Ishin movement, although that fact was not well known. They passed servants on the way who eyed the two men dubiously, but Kanzaki breezed through them without a glance. Kyosuke followed more self-consciously, acutely aware of his dirty farmer’s clothing. Kanzaki stopped in front of a room guarded by two samurais, one of which knocked on the wooden panel deferentially. A soft voice called from the inside, “Come in.” The shoji was slid aside and they shuffled inside, Kyosuke keeping his eyes down respectfully. “Ah, good to see you back and well, Kanzaki-kun. We’ve received your message three days ago, good work.” Kyosuke peered up to see a grey-haired old man sitting beside Katsura Kogoro. The man was small in stature, with wispy white beard and mustache. But despite his slight build and age, there was an aura of contained power and authority in him, hidden within an air of serenity. And sitting across from them... Kyosuke blinked in shock and blurted without thinking, “Himura?!” The redheaded youth lifted his head to look at Kyosuke. Something flickered in his eyes and the corner of his lips seemed to curve in the slightest smile that disappeared as his gaze swept over Kanzaki. He nodded to the other man, face blank, “Kanzaki-san.” Kanzaki gave Kyosuke a quelling look and nodded back to Himura just as coolly. “Himura.” Then he turned and bowed deeply to his leaders, “Aizawa-san, Katsura-san, I’m back.” Aizawa-san? Ah, Aizawa Shigenobu. Kyosuke had never met him before, but every Choshu Ishin Shishi knew his name. He was one of the eldest and foremost factual leaders of Choshu Ishin Shishi, with strong personal followera among the Shishis. He, Katsura-san, and Ieda-san were the three single most influential men among the Choshu faction Shishi. But the rumours whispered among the lower ranks said that not all was well between the three men. Kanzaki was motioning for the basket now. Kyosuke forced his mind away from the disturbing track and helped the other man to unload the weapons inside. He lifted the gatling gun out and heard a sharp intake of breath. Katsura-san was staring fixedly at the gun. “Let me see that...” He took the bulky weapon from Kyosuke’s hands. Both Aizawa and Himura were watching raptly, Himura’s eyes acquiring that wintry glint that was part of Hitokiri Battousai’s reputation. Katsura-san turned the weapon over in his hands, running his hands over the thick multiple barrels. “I’ve never seen this one before,” he murmured, “it’s most probably the latest type.” Aizawa turned towards Kanzaki. “What about that cannon?” Kanzaki lowered his head towards Aizawa, “Hai. As said before, it was too heavy to move around, so I put it in one of our hiding places. I’ve checked it over, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about gaijins’ weapons. I understand Katsura-san is sending someone to go and look it over.” “Oh?” Katsura calmly answered Aizawa’s questioning look, “Sakamoto-san was in the vicinity. I sent a quick letter to him to take a detour and have a look at the Armstrong cannon. He knows the gaijins and their weapons far better than we do, he’ll be able to inform us better. I’m expecting him to come here soon, today or in the next few days.” “Sakamoto Ryoma…ka?” Aizawa leaned back, sighing heavily. “They weren’t supposed to sell these,” he murmured almost to himself. “No frigates, no Armstrong cannons, no gatling-guns - that is the rule all sides follow.” “Followed.” Katsura-san’s gaze was dark as he looked at his fellow leader. “Someone had broken the rule. Just as predicted, things are going to change very soon. It would seem it had already started.” “We’ll have to discuss this further.” Aizawa nodded towards Kanzaki and Kyosuke. “Thank you, this is a very important discovery indeed. Make sure that it does not spread.” Kanzaki bowed to him, “Hai, I’ve already warned all of my men. They won’t say anything.” Then recognizing the unspoken order, he pulled Kyosuke along with him to the exit. Himura gave the two Ishin leaders a bow then followed them out of the room. Kyosuke kept his mouth shut until they had walked far enough not to disturb their leaders, then he burst out, “Himura! What are you doing here? I thought you’d still be in that village I left you in. You can’t have recovered, it’s not even two weeks yet!” Himura looked at him blandly. “I’m fine, I arrived shortly before you did. I was doing nothing useful there. Besides, we’re short-handed enough as it is.” The younger man did still have some road dust on his clothes and skin. He also still looked rather pale, and Kyosuke knew him well enough to recognize the faint tightness around his eyes and mouth as signs of pain. Before he could say anything else, Kanzaki interrupted, “Kyosuke, go to the dining room and have something to eat. I’ll get the others.” He left without another look at Himura. {Still like that}. Kyosuke looked at Himura, but the younger man’ s face was blank, the expressionless mask he wore among others firmly in place. “Let’s go,” Himura murmured. *** On to part b ! --------------------------- ONElist Sponsor ---------------------------- Love. Relationships? E - Commerce! Click Here ------------------------------------------------------------------------