“Sooner or later, whoever’s behind the usurpation will have to make some kind of ‘divine’ display affirming his claim to the throne… Having my own source of miracles will even the playing field somewhat.”
Orchard-hand Sano is pulled from his small-town life to assist royal knight Hajime in restoring the usurped throne to Kenshin, the rightful king, and the two of them may find a connection beyond only this quest.
This story was last updated on September 1, 2019.
Chapter 1 - Heretics
Chapter 2 - Purpose and Awareness
Chapter 3 - Another Homeward Encounter
Chapter 4 - Not Stable
Chapter 5 - Warrior's Coma
Chapter 6 - The Defense of Eloma
Chapter 7 - Alleged Miracles
Chapter 8 - Departure
Chapter 9 - Egato 8ni Kasun
Chapter 10 - Torosa Forest Road
Chapter 11 - Proxy's Son
Chapter 12 - Yahiko's Burden
Chapter 13 - Enca Inn North
Chapter 14 - First Report: Kaoru, Tomoe
Chapter 15 - First Report: Megumi, Misao, Yumi
Chapter 16 - Nine Years Later
Chapter 17 - Second Report
Chapter 18 - The K
Chapter 19 - Tangles
Chapter 20 - Thirteen Years Ago
Chapter 21 - Third Report: Purple Sky
Chapter 22 - Third Report: Wishes That May Be Prayers
Chapter 23 - Wanted
Chapter 24 - Playing Thieves Guild
Chapter 25 - A Small Gathering of Malcontents
Chapter 26 - The Visitant
Chapter 27 - At the Sanctum Doors
Chapter 28 - Twitch
Chapter 29 - As-Yet-Unknown Powers
Chapter 30 - Unoppressed Light
Chapter 31 - Final Report
Chapter 32 - Known Powers
Chapter 33 - Before (or After) the Storm
Chapter 5 – Warrior’s Coma
Sano had managed successful meditative communication perhaps twice before, and each time had been so pleased and excited at getting it right, he’d spoiled his own concentration and broken the connection. So he had only an imprecise idea of what it was like — but that idea yet allowed him to recognize where he was now.
Well, not ‘where.’ He was nowhere, and if he tried to focus on the nonexistent background that seemed to be comprised of pure mood, he felt everything around him start to waver as if his attention threatened the very existence of the universe. Physical sensations were vague too. The feelings of walking, of breathing, of an itch on his face and the pull of gravity, were washed out and seemed to fade somewhat whenever he didn’t specifically think about them. If he remembered correctly from Seijuurou’s lectures, this was due to his mind fabricating them to accompany the false physicality of his spiritual manifestation; he wasn’t actually experiencing anything of the sort.
Beneath these fake sensations were the real ones, the ones his body actually felt: he could just barely make out the hard floor of Seijuurou’s house, the somewhat uncomfortable position in which he lay on it, and the soreness in the back of his skull. But he knew if he sought after that too energetically, he would wake himself up. Instead, he looked around for his trainer and the knight. And the moment he did, their voices reached him.
“Who are you? Where’s the boy?”
“The boy is somewhere about, probably. He’s incapable of maintaining a meditative state, so he put you in more qualified hands.”
Once Sano had heard them, it was simple enough to locate the visual aspect of their manifestations. Seijuurou appeared mostly as he did in life, with just a touch of greater presence, shinier musculature where his skin showed, and more eye-grabbing beauty here than there to set this manifestation apart from reality. The stranger wore his royal knight’s shiiya again, implying that his membership in that organization was a crucial part of his identity — crucial enough to overcome the knowledge Seijuurou and Sano had that he was currently topless, which would otherwise have forced him to appear here as they knew he did in outer life.
“The real question is, who are you?” Seijuurou was asking. “And what quest was so important you had to drive yourself into a coma for it?”
The knight seemed suspicious and a little irritated. “Why should I answer your questions when I have no idea who you are?”
At this point Sano broke into the conversation with, “Hey, what’s the big fucking idea hitting me on the head like that?”
Seijuurou barely turned to look at him with the comment, “There you are.” His succinct answer to the question was, “The off chance it would get you here, of course.”
“‘The off chance??'” echoed Sano, irate.
“I wanted to see this anomaly for myself,” Seijuurou explained placidly. “I knew your energy runs wild when you’re unconscious, but even I couldn’t have predicted this.”
The knight, who had been studying Sano with a somewhat skeptical expression, now gestured to him and asked Seijuurou, “Who is this idiot?”
Anger transferring immediately from his master to the knight, Sano raised a fist at the man and said, “‘This idiot’ just saved your life, you ungrateful asshole!”
“You didn’t save his life,” Seijuurou corrected him. “People don’t wake up from warrior’s comas. This idiot,” he went on, turning back to the knight and mimicking the latter’s gesture toward Sano, “is my latest worthless student. I assume my previous worthless student sent you to find me because he’s messed things up again.”
“Then you are Seijuurou,” stated the knight.
“Obviously.” Seijuurou’s eyes sparkled as he said this, something more than a figure of speech when the eyes in question were no more than a manifestation of a very arrogant spirit.
Sano rolled his own eyes. “Sounds like you two are gonna get along.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will.” Seijuurou flashed a suggestive smile at the knight, who looked away in annoyance. The keonmaster’s face returned to its previous serious expression as he went on to ask, “So what kind of foolishness is going on in Elotica?”
“The king has been usurped,” replied the knight, still not looking at Seijuurou.
The latter folded his arms and said flatly, “Predictable. By whom?”
Sano snorted quietly at the implication that Seijuurou had seen this coming. If the country were to be overrun by giant hedgehogs for whose nourishment worms began raining from the sky, Seijuurou would claim he’d seen it coming.
The knight, unfamiliar with Seijuurou’s ways, simply answered the question seriously. “A prince of Gontamei, of course. We knew there was some sort of conspiracy, but we hadn’t been able to pinpoint the powers behind it, and the king didn’t want random arrests.”
“He always has been too soft,” Seijuurou nodded. Sano, despite having just been reflecting on his master’s pretense of omniscience, was a little startled at the knowing tone. Was it possible Seijuurou really was familiar with the king? “Foolish boy’s probably gotten himself in trouble again…” he’d said before. Did that mean…?
“Yes,” the knight was agreeing a little helplessly. “The best I could do was stay at his side as much as possible and keep my eyes open. That wasn’t enough, but at least I was present when it happened.” He shifted slightly, and all of a sudden Sano was seeing his memories.
The knight had been sitting in some room in the royal palace — a sunlit, mural-decorated chamber larger than Sano’s entire house — in a carved chair probably worth more than everything Sano owned put together, reading something. From the awareness in the memory Sano got the vague impression that the room’s original purpose had been as a sort of morning lounge, for a great, intricately-worked bay window looked east over a fine courtyard, but these days it was used as an office. Shelves full of books and papers lined the walls, hiding great chunks of the murals, and much of the remaining floor space was occupied by a large table at which the king sat.
Sano had never seen the king, nor, as he cared little about him, wondered what he might look like, but couldn’t help some surprise at the image the memory presented: he seemed remarkably short and small, though his arms where the sleeves of his shining royal shiiya fell from them were tan and toned. His hair was strikingly red, unusual among Akomerashou, the scar on his left cheek nearly the same color.
King Kenshin and his knight had evidently just finished a brief conversation and fallen silent, and now footsteps could be heard outside in the hallway. The knight seemed to tense at the sound, but before he could do more than rise from his seat, the doors had burst open. Several men entered, carrying drawn swords and clad in royal knight shiiyao that bore the crest of the other royal family, Gontamei.
When six of them had fallen into lines of three on either side of a path from the door to Kenshin’s table, another person appeared. Like the king he wore a shining royal shiiya, and he was followed by two more armed men. By this time, the king’s knight had, of course, approached to stand protectively beside his liege, keon sword drawn and the energy blade bright and long.
The Gontamei prince, who looked to be no older than Sano, raised a hand in a cheerful wave as he stopped in front of Kenshin’s table, and, smiling brightly, said, “Good morning, highness!”
“Good morning, Soujirou,” replied the king, who still held the papers he’d been drawing up as if this were nothing more than a temporary interruption. “From the looks of things, you have grown tired of waiting.”
Soujirou, still smiling, placed a hand on the table and leaned forward to peer at what the king was working on. “I do beg your pardon,” he said. “But you must be aware of what a weak king you are… this was inevitable.”
“Well,” replied Kenshin, tapping the stack of papers against the desk to straighten them and then setting them down on a nearby pile, “that may be true. Will you be killing me, then?”
“Oh, no!” Soujirou protested, raising his hands as if to ward off the suggestion. “Kill a prince of Baranor’mei? No!” He almost seemed to be laughing at the idea. “You will be my honored guest until I decide where to send you.”
Kenshin nodded, pushed back his chair, and stood. “Then I will surrender for now.”
At a gesture from the prince, Soujirou’s men began making their way around the table to lay hands on the king; at the same time, Kenshin turned to the knight at his side and said something so brief and quiet that, despite this being the knight’s own memory and the knight presumably having understood the words, Sano didn’t catch it. Then the scene abruptly faded.
Sano shook his head to clear the lingering images of the memory from his vision, and demanded as soon as he could, “What was that? He surrendered without even a fight?? There were two of you! And isn’t the king supposed to be this great swordsman?”
The knight also shook his head. “Ever since the Refugee Issue,” he explained, “the king only wears an empty sheath. It’s supposed to be a symbol of peace. He probably didn’t want to risk my life by essentially asking me to take on all nine of them by myself.”
“Thereby rendering your presence there entirely purposeless,” remarked Seijuurou.
“Or maybe he has something in mind that I can’t guess.” The knight sounded confused and perhaps a little bitter as he added, “All he said was, ‘Find Seijuurou.'”
“I can’t imagine why,” Seijuurou said.
The knight definitely sounded bitter as he muttered, “I’m beginning to agree with you.”
“How did you know where to find him?” Sano asked.
“The king has mentioned his mentor to me many times, as well as where he lives,” said the knight with a slight sigh. “But since there was a good chance others in the court knew as well, I thought it would be best to come as soon as possible.”
“And put yourself into a coma,” Seijuurou added critically.
Annoyed and possibly somewhat discouraged, the knight again looked away for a moment before continuing. “Soujirou sent half of his men away with the king; I have no idea where they might have gone. Then he tried to convince me to join him. I think my reply was more eloquent than his offer.”
Sano got a brief image of the knight kicking the entire large, heavy, book-and-paper-covered table over in Soujirou’s face, then jumping through the glass of the bay window into one of the trees in the courtyard below, and couldn’t help being rather amused and somewhat impressed at the drama and decisiveness of the knight’s ‘reply.’ That explained all the little cuts on his arms, too.
“They weren’t able to pursue me immediately,” the knight went on, “and Soujirou doesn’t know about the King’s Flight, so escape from the palace wasn’t difficult. Getting out of the city wasn’t either, though Soujirou’s takeover seems to have been coordinated across Elotica and many areas were already openly under his control.”
“Yeah, sounds like it was all real easy,” Sano said sarcastically, then asked in genuine curiosity, “What’s a King’s Flight?”
The knight showed him a quick memory of a long, narrow spiral staircase, completely dark but for the light of the energy on his keonblade, as he answered, “The hidden exit from the palace.”
“When did this all happen?” asked Seijuurou.
Pensively the knight said, “What day is it now?”
“Kahyou.” Seijuurou, for all he lived like a country hermit, always used the terms of the new calendar… which was probably for the best when talking to a knight from the capital.
“Three days ago, then,” the knight said.
“Three days?” Sano repeated in loud incredulity. “How in Kaoru’s name did you get up here so fast?”
“Soujirou sent at least two groups of men after me, so I didn’t feel I could afford to stop anywhere for long. I was able to change horses a few times along the way, so I traveled almost without rest.” A string of very brief images flashed past Sano’s awareness as the knight spoke. It seemed he had lost his pursuers, then been overtaken by them, twice, and blows had been exchanged both times. In the second instance, when the forest landscape surrounding him in the memory had become quite familiar to Sano, he had been unseated and wounded and had barely escaped.
“Which is why you’re now in a coma,” Seijuurou finished for him.
“A fact I don’t need to be reminded of again,” said the knight tightly.
“‘At least two groups?'” wondered Sano. “You must be pretty damn import–” And abruptly he cut his own words short as a thought occurred to him. “Wait… how far did they follow you? Did they know where you were going?”
“It’s not unlikely; I lost them on Torosa.”
Of course; otherwise the knight wouldn’t have been able to make it as far as that crossroads before collapsing after being wounded. That was why that last remembered image had looked so familiar to Sano. He swore, suddenly tense. “They’re gonna come looking for you in Eloma and hear I had you there last night!”
“Even if they track him here, are you really worried?” Seijuurou wondered skeptically.
“Not about us,” was Sano’s impatient reply. “What they might do over there if they can’t find him!” He gestured wildly, probably in entirely the wrong direction, trying to indicate his village and his friends that might even now be in danger. In this communicative unreality, he was undoubtedly projecting images of Eloma and the people there far better than he could indicate those concepts even in words.
“And what do you think there is to be done about that?” The knight’s tone was as skeptical as Seijuurou’s, but with a touch more derision. “Aren’t you unconscious?”
Sano rounded on him angrily. “At least I’m gonna wake up sometime!”
“To the world’s great benefit, I’m sure,” the knight responded dryly.
With a snort, Sano turned back to his master. “Seijuurou! Wake me up already!” he commanded, reaching out to pull at a long lock of Seijuurou’s shining black hair to make absolutely certain he had his attention.
“And how do you propose I do that?” Seijuurou said disinterestedly as he disengaged Sano’s hand and smoothed his hair back into place.
“I don’t care; just do it!” Sano insisted.
Seijuurou gave a brief smirk that had an unpleasantly suggestive edge to it, then abruptly vanished from the mindscape. Sano barely had time to notice the different aura the non-place took on once Seijuurou’s presence and mood were removed from it before he felt… something else. It was a real sensation, something happening to his actual body out there in the real world, not one of these things his head was supplying to add verisimilitude to the experience of manifesting via spiritual energy. As Sano realized exactly what it was, his eyes went wide and he felt a blush creeping over his face. Seijuurou was really unbelievable. With this knight here and everything!
But at least it worked. It wasn’t a sensation he could easily ignore, after all. The skeptical look the knight was giving him, as well as the knight himself and all lingering images from the memories they’d shared, were fading abruptly as Sano found himself racing toward consciousness again.
“You didn’t save his life. People don’t wake up from warrior’s comas.”
It wasn’t the kindest way to break to someone that he was dying, especially given that the statement hadn’t even been directed at him. Still, the manner of revelation didn’t make much difference, in the long run, to the dying man. It did say something, and not something particularly complimentary, about the speaker; at least he’d found him, though.
Seijuurou, to judge by the image manifested by his spiritual energy, seemed every bit as strong and effective as Kenshin believed, but Hajime wasn’t sure how much help he was actually going to be. At the very least, the man had little sympathy for Kenshin’s plight… or for Kenshin in general, it appeared. The king had always spoken of his former master fondly… and Hajime had always known that Kenshin was entirely too lenient with people he was attached to.
But the king had given an order — possibly his final order in that position, certainly his final order to Hajime — so the knight had obeyed. Obeyed to the point of suicide, which wasn’t an idea he balked at but also wasn’t something he’d anticipated. That type of loyalty to one’s king was perfectly appropriate, but he’d assumed either to see his death coming before it came and to prepare for it, or to die suddenly and unexpectedly. This was neither here nor there.
He’d never even heard of a “warrior’s coma” until Seijuurou explained it to him at needless length. Hajime had always known he had an exceptional level of control over his spiritual energy — there was a reason he’d become the chief of the king’s knights so quickly, after all — and his current state, apparently, was just further proof of that. How consoling Seijuurou expected it to be that Hajime’s strength of spirit had actually caused his current dilemma, Hajime wasn’t certain.
It was very much like being half-asleep, and aware that he was half-asleep: if he concentrated, he could ‘awaken.’ Unlike a typical awakening, however, this was merely a more complete awareness, not an actual change in circumstances. Still, as there was something vaguely, paradoxically agitating about the drifting state, that greater awareness was a definite improvement. And having someone else around, having something specific to concentrate on helped.
He wondered if concentrating would speed up or slow down his death. He also wondered when and if he would feel the answer to that question. At the moment he didn’t feel like he was dying, despite the pain (now relatively quiet with assimilation) that still throbbed at him from whatever connection he retained to his body. But simultaneously he couldn’t really sense the passage of time, so not only had he no concept of how long it had been since he’d collapsed on the forest road, he also couldn’t guess how swiftly or slowly he might be approaching the end of his energy. And when he reached that end… would he be snuffed out like a candle, or ebb like spilled water?
Seijuurou hadn’t mentioned quite a few details like that. Of course, Hajime didn’t know if, even in a spiritual state, he could have stomached any more of Seijuurou’s pompous details, pedantic and interspersed among pointlessly suggestive comments as they had been. Even that boy’s ignorant ranting would be better.
They’d both gone now, the boy running off to his village in a panic and Seijuurou ‘to try some things,’ so Hajime was alone again in this haze that felt like a dream but wasn’t.
Dreams… That was a topic he kept coming back to, despite the fact that his approaching demise really ought to have been more engrossing. But those dreams…
Exactly how much had come from his own subconscious and how much had been a product of the boy’s he didn’t know. Possibly because of Hajime’s disorientation, the boy’s influence had certainly been strong, especially at first — strong and sensory. Hajime could remember the smell of the inexplicably calm ocean water among the stepping stones, the chill claustrophobia of the spiral tower’s interior. He very rarely had dreams so rich in that sort of detail.
Only because of this comparison, in fact, was he now aware of just how surreal his own dreams usually were… a permeating sensibility or an understood concept to which any physical events portrayed were secondary. Normally what his body was feeling at this time would manifest itself almost preclusively in his dreams, so that if someone asked, “What did you dream about?” the answer would simply be, “Pain.”
Whereas, connected to that strange boy, it manifested rather as chains of blood growing from the wound and entwining him like hot, strangling vines. And the urgency that would normally, for him, have been simply an omnipresent mood, and that mood the core and substance of the dream, instead took physical shape… a straight hallway, a specific pillared lane to be followed, and forbidding darkness beyond the path’s boundaries.
Whether the fact that Hajime hadn’t technically been asleep made a difference, he didn’t know; what effect came of his attempts at talking to the boy, rather than just letting the dreams play out, he didn’t know. It was an entirely incomprehensible situation, from beginning to end, brought about by a strange and unanticipated link. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that sudden, uncanny intimacy with a complete stranger, but it certainly had been the most unusual experience he could remember.
Given that spiritual energy was turned entirely inward during sleep, he’d never heard of keonmasters — even the strongest, which the boy quite obviously wasn’t — communicating via dreams… Hajime’s current state was anomalous, of course, which could account for any number of things… but, he felt, still couldn’t explain the boy.
Well, really, for all the mysterious facets of the situation, the boy was unimportant, and irritating in any event. But the fact remained that the bizarreness of unexpectedly sharing dreams with someone hadn’t really improved Hajime’s mental condition, nor put him in an appropriate state of mind to learn that he wasn’t going to wake up again. And the continued agitation called up by the memory of it wasn’t doing much to help him accept his fate.
The truth was, he felt about as cheerless and helpless right now as he possibly could. And any such sensations always inevitably reminded him of the last time he’d felt so completely ineffectual and unhappy. But that, even as his end approached, he preferred not to recall. Dreams or death or a quest unfulfilled — anything was a better topic than that.
He wasn’t afraid of dying. Actually, his thoughts on the subject had always been something of a blank, and in this disjointed reality they were even less substantial. But dying like this, slowly, vaguely, alone… not to mention dying while his mission was incomplete… that wasn’t his ideal way to go.
Kenshin’s two-word order hadn’t conveyed much information: whether the king believed Seijuurou would be willing to assist in this matter; what he might be able to do if he did; or even whether Hajime was actually supposed to be finding him to help or for some entirely different purpose. Hajime had made the assumption he thought the most logical and acted upon it, and now feared that all his effort might have been for nothing. That his death might be for nothing.
For Seijuurou certainly didn’t seem overly eager to help. Given that what he did seem was entirely content to sit around on the same mountain he’d apparently occupied for the last twenty years teaching some inept orchard-hand how to have sensory dreams rather than meditate, and making licentious comments at dying knights, Hajime didn’t have much hope for spurring him into action on anyone’s behalf… least of all someone Seijuurou referred to as his ‘previous worthless student.’
And, given what Hajime had observed of the man’s personality beyond those facts, Seijuurou wasn’t really someone he would have chosen to have by his side as he died, either.
Well, if he had a choice, he wouldn’t die at all.
Still, since he had to, he couldn’t quite decide whether the idea of expiring alone in this inbetween place or without fulfilling the king’s last request was bothering him more. If only he could get through to someone else — anyone else — he might be able to convey a warning about the state of things in Elotica to someone that might be able to do something about it. The multiple mights in that statement might be worrisome… but it didn’t matter, since he couldn’t do it. He’d already tried.
Normally — conscious, that is — the method by which he used his spiritual energy to contact someone was to hone that energy through meditation and reach out toward the other person. It only worked if they were expecting it and in a similar meditative state; their energy would meet his, and conversation could ensue. Right now, however, rather than feeling the energy inside him like blood in his veins ready to be tapped, taken control of, and shaped to his will, he felt as if he were submerged in a sea of it — he could just as easily take the actual ocean in his hands as direct this ubiquitous force.
Seijuurou had been able to reach out to him easily enough, it seemed; but Hajime was simply and completely unable to do the same. Even if, by some impossible chance, there were someone (besides Seijuurou) in a meditative state to whose energy he might have been able to connect, it was a moot point as he couldn’t even reach out in the first place.
If he had been able to, that boy and his bizarre dreams would probably have blocked him anyway.
What was that boy — besides unfathomable and intractable? What qualified him as the student of a man that had trained one of the greatest warriors Hajime had ever met? Was Seijuurou just bored? Going senile, perhaps? Or was the training the privilege of a lover? Hajime had gotten that feeling from them, to a certain extent… but he’d also gotten the feeling that Seijuurou wasn’t exactly the righteously monogamous type. He couldn’t really bring himself to trust most of the impressions he’d formed since falling unconscious, however, and the matter wasn’t exactly consequential.
The impressions he did trust — his general concepts of Seijuurou and the boy — were bleak enough: that both of his new acquaintances would, very likely, prove useless. The former was a sophomoric grouch, the latter all emotion and little purpose or thought.
Still… it might have been weakness, or it might have been completely natural — he didn’t know; he’d never died before — despite the master’s self-important disparagement and the latest worthless student’s defiant stupidity… Hajime wished they would come back.
Chapter 6 – The Defense of Eloma
Sano didn’t think he’d ever made such good time between Seijuurou’s house and his own, but running nearly the entire way rendered him almost useless by the time he reached the village. This was fortuitous, as he was forced to slow down about when crossing the irrigation bridge into Eloma; he hadn’t been thinking very clearly most of the way over, and would probably have flung himself immediately, sword drawn, at anyone he didn’t recognize once he arrived, so being compelled to ease up for a few minutes and be rational was undoubtedly for the best.
He took the same back route he had last night, avoiding the center of town, toward his house, letting his lungs and various muscles stop burning as he proceeded a little more slowly and carefully. This path provided him no sight of outsiders or anything dangerous, but as he approached his home from behind, he heard quite clearly a dismaying crashing noise within.
From around in front someone said loudly, “There’s nobody here!”
Quietly Sano moved to the corner of his residence and peered out to where exactly what he’d feared was evidently going on. The angry speaker wore what he’d seen on the men in the memories: the white shiiya of a royal knight with the blue-green ocean wave symbol of Gontamei in the diamond on the chest. And the object of his ire was the father of one of Sano’s friends, a grey-bearded man that appeared, at the moment, rather distressed. Even as Sano watched, the Gontamei knight took the man by the front of his shiiya and pulled him roughly closer.
“Have you been lying to me, old man,” he demanded, “or are you just blind and stupid?”
“No, master,” replied Genji’s father a little unsteadily, struggling as the other pulled him off balance, “I saw him come home last night carrying someone on his back! It must have been who you’re looking for.”
“Well, they’re not here now. If someone here’s hiding them…” The knight gave Genji’s father a threatening shake.
“He may have left again when nobody was looking,” suggested the old man helplessly.
Abruptly, in a motion almost more a shove, the knight released the old man so the latter fell hard to the ground. Turning to someone Sano couldn’t see, he gestured widely and angrily. “They can’t have gone far if Hajime had to be carried. Search every house! Search the orchards! And be thorough about it!”
Judging by the crash he’d heard as he’d approached, this last command implied free destruction throughout the village. And since the person they sought definitely wasn’t here, it probably wouldn’t end after only a few houses.
Genji’s father must also have realized this, for from his seat on the ground he said, hasty and desperate, “Please, master, I swear we don’t know where they are! The boy comes and goes on his own–”
But Sano had a better way of keeping the false knights from doing any more damage — at least to the property of those uninvolved. Stepping forward, drawing his sword, he interrupted the old man loudly, “Fucking right I do.”
The knight that had been giving the orders whirled to face him. He reached for his sword, but never managed to pull it more than a few inches free of its sheath. Sano’s energy blade, full and bright now with the strength of his rage, cut a long red line into the man’s arm, and Sano had brought the thick, round pommel down on the man’s head and knocked him senseless before the knight could even raise his other hand to clutch at the new wound.
Eager for another target, he turned, but what he saw made him pause even in his anger. Previously hidden from his view by the house, perhaps ten more men in Gontamei royal knights’ shiiyao were gathering slowly into a tighter group from where they’d probably been dispersing to follow orders. They all stared at him, evidently surprised by how quickly and easily he’d taken care of their leader.
On seeing just how many of them there were, Sano’s immediate reflection was, Seriously, how important is this Hajime guy? He didn’t really have time to think about it, however, since the men were drawing their weapons and eyeing him darkly. Instead, determined to make the first move, he pressed forward, sword flashing.
On the rare occasion when not annoyed with Seijuurou, Sano was willing to admit he hadn’t learned nothing from the man. True, he was still about as far from keonmastery as he had been before meeting Seijuurou, but his general swordsmanship skills had increased quite a bit. And if this hadn’t been the case, he would have gone down almost immediately in this situation.
Of course, ten on one was still pretty bad. Seijuurou could have taken them with no problem, but Sano found himself slowly forced into retreat, and would soon have his back to the wall of his own house, or possibly worse. Probably worse. In fact, worse was definitely about to come to worst in the form of one of the Gontamei knights charging Sano with sword raised while Sano was busy blocking a strike from another.
This attack, however, was turned away by the haft of an axe placed fortuitously in its path by Genji, who joined the fight at just this moment. Almost simultaneously, in the corner of his opposite eye, Sano noted the appearance of his other friend Tomo with what looked like the pole of a long lopper — which didn’t seem like a very comfortable thing to have slammed into the side of your head, if the way one of the false knights went down was any indication.
Sano kicked out at his primary opponent and sent him staggering back, then took a step backward himself to stand more firmly between his two friends. They had a momentary breather as the knights regrouped, glaring at him and his newly-arrived allies, and Genji leaned toward Sano a bit (rather than actually turning his direction), and demanded, “Sano, what the hell is going on? I swear to Yumi, if this is your fault…”
“I have practically nothing to do with this!” Sano protested.
“‘Practically?'” echoed Tomo.
Clutching at his sword with one hand and a cut in his shoulder with the other, one of the knights called out, “You country boys need to mind your own business!”
“Anyone else notice these guys are assholes?” Tomo said conversationally.
“I noticed when they threw my dad on the ground,” replied Genji.
“Yeah, apparently their boss usurped the king or some shit,” said Sano.
“Guess it’s really not your fault, then,” Tomo allowed, backing up against Sano as the knights began closing in again.
“That explains the shiiyao,” Genji remarked, doing much the same.
The fighting resumed, and was even more chaotic than before now the numbers had changed. However, neither Genji nor Tomo was terribly proficient in combat, and when their weapons were designed to cut wood and prune trees they simply couldn’t hold out. Even Sano’s keonblade would fail here eventually, as soon as the anger settled a bit. He experienced a fresh burst of this emotion at seeing both of his friends fall — not dead, he thought, and hopefully not even too badly injured, but very distinctly defeated — but that circumstance also freed up more of the knights to attack him. He couldn’t last much longer.
And that was when he caught sight of a nearby figure bending slowly to retrieve from the grass the weapon of one of the fallen knights. Sano lost track of the battle for half an instant of intense surprise, and was lucky he didn’t die right then.
It was Yahiko.
With a pensive frown, the boy straightened, holding a sword almost as long as he was tall. He seemed to be muttering something to himself. Then, in a movement so fast Sano barely even saw it, he darted forward, lifting the weapon. There came a rushing like heavy wind, a great deal of motion, startled and pained cries all around, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun.
What had taken only a few moments to accomplish took at least twice as long for Sano’s brain to assimilate. He felt his arm drop limp, pointing his sword at the ground. The latter was strewn with what had been his opponents, most of them now in various states of bleeding pain or unconsciousness. Just before him, almost at his feet, one of them sat staring at the ruined remains of his shattered sword, while beside him another lay unmoving. As Sano looked haltingly around, he saw the man whose swordtip had been at Genji’s throat clutching now at a long cut across his chest, and the one that had been keeping Tomo at bay not only weaponless but in fact without a hand — the appendage, still uselessly holding the hilt of a sword, lay on the ground behind him.
Sano turned again to stare at Yahiko, who returned the gaze with a sad, determined look while his sword dripped blood onto the grass.
“Yahiko?” Sano faltered at last.
Yahiko nodded slowly. “What’s going on?”
Baffled, Sano shook his head, trying and failing to get a better mental grasp of the situation. “No,” he finally managed, “what’s going on with you? How the fuck did you just do that?”
With a frown, Yahiko drove the red point of the sword he held into the dirt, perhaps as an excuse to break eye contact with Sano, and released the weapon. “We should make sure your friends are all right,” he said evasively.
Sano couldn’t decide whether he was more afflicted by annoyance at not having his question answered or the amazement at what he had just witnessed. So for the moment he simply did as Yahiko suggested; resheathing his sword, he walked over to Genji. The knights he passed did nothing to stop him; some of them were getting slowly to their feet, and amid the groans of pain from those that were wounded, a muttering had begun.
“You all right?” Sano asked as he reached down to help his friend.
“Nothing a little explanation won’t fix,” Genji replied, accepting the hand up.
His father had approached, doubtless to see that Genji was all right, and now said to Sano, “It was you I saw last night, wasn’t it?”
Sano tried not to look guilty.
“Fuck, Sano,” said Tomo as he also drew near, “this is your fault?”
Three distinct groups were beginning to form of the various people involved in or watching the fight: first, Sano, Yahiko, Tomo, Genji and his father, and a couple of other villagers that had been nearby, clustered together to discuss the matter; second, the knights, gathering into a little knot to give what treatment they could to the worst wounded and decide what to do next; lastly, what looked like the entire remainder of the village, which had undoubtedly been so permeated by the sounds of clashing steel and shouting as to leave nobody peacefully ignorant.
“Look,” Sano began in response to Tomo’s comment, “there’s some kind of bullshit going on in Elotica.”
“Those guys don’t look too happy,” Genji’s father remarked uneasily, eyeing the huddled knights.
Sano also threw a glance in that direction, and thought he caught the words ‘demon child’ from one of the strangers.
Genji, who’d evidently also heard it, asked, “Who the hell is this kid?”
“I’m–” Yahiko began, but Sano interrupted him impatiently, still wanting to explain himself:
“Listen, I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but I guess the king’s been overthrown, and these are the new guy’s men. If he’s anything like them, we’re all in for some rough times.”
Tomo made a gesture of helpless exasperation. “You know, honestly, Sano, I don’t care what’s going on in Elotica. What the hell are we supposed to do now? We’ve got a whole bunch of knights or something here that we’ve managed to piss off, and–”
“I don’t know, all right?” Sano broke in, stung. “I told you I don’t really get what’s going on; I just came rushing back here because I thought there might be someone here making trouble and you guys might need a hand.”
“And started a completely unnecessary fight,” said Genji’s father severely.
Sano turned his wrath on the man. “Uh, maybe you forgot, but that guy was right in the middle of pushing you around when I showed up. Oh, yeah, and you were right in the middle of selling me out.”
“Hey–” said Yahiko.
“I didn’t know who they were or what they wanted!” the old man protested, scowling.
“Oh, so you just figured it’d be fine to send them to my house.”
“They’re looking for someone else… some royal knight… I thought they would just ask you the same things they asked me.” Genji’s father really didn’t seem to think he’d been in the wrong.
“Sano–” said Yahiko.
“And what if I was really hiding the guy, huh?” Sano took an irate step toward the old man, fists clenched. “Did you think of what they might do then?”
Here Genji jumped to his father’s defense. “Ladies, Sano, cut it out. He didn’t mean you any harm.” One of his own fists was clenched as he threw out an arm to stop Sano’s forward progress.
“Not much good, either,” Sano growled at him. “Nobody cares what happens to the town heretic, do they?” This accusation, admittedly rather unfair, caused the others all to speak at once:
Genji’s father said hotly, “That had nothing to do with it. You know we’ve never cared about that.”
Tomo groaned, “Oh, seas, Sano, don’t drag that into it.”
And Genji said, “You can’t blame him for trying to get guys like that off his back. It had nothing to do with you personally!”
Sano was drawing breath for another angry retort, when suddenly Yahiko said, “Hey!!” in a tone so loud and carrying that everyone in the group looked down at him, startled. He appeared anxious and unhappy, and glanced around with that same skittishness Sano had observed in him when they’d first met. He said, “Sano, I think you and I should leave here right now.”
Surprised, Sano said, “What? Why?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” murmured Genji’s father.
“Because,” said Yahiko firmly, “those guys are going to want to start fighting again pretty soon, and I really don’t want to have to kill anyone.” He gestured over at the knights, still grouped tightly a few yards off. “Besides, they’re after somebody you’ve got hidden somewhere else, right?”
Sano’s brows rose in continued surprise. “You pick up shit pretty fast.”
“They’ll leave the town alone once they know he’s not here, won’t they?” Yahiko prompted.
Sano turned toward the Gontamei knights, who were throwing dark glances over their shoulders at everyone else — especially at Yahiko — and still evidently discussing what to do next. The other villagers, none of them appearing terribly happy with what had happened here today, were doing the same. Sano thought very little of the way they looked at him in particular. He realized suddenly that if the rest of Eloma felt the way Tomo did — that Sano had just helped to make them the enemies of a group of royal knights or whatever they were from the capital — none of them were likely to feel very sympathetic toward him at the moment.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he finally said somewhat reluctantly. He turned back to his friends. “Sorry about the trouble, guys.”
They all stared at him, uncertain and unhappy. After a long, hesitant moment, Genji’s father cleared his throat and said, “It’s probably best if you don’t come back.”
“Somehow I figured you’d say that,” Sano muttered. Despite this having been the case, actually hearing the words seemed to drop a cold weight onto his heart that he didn’t know when or if he would be able to shake off. After so many years, even relatively happy years, in this town, after everything that had happened to him here, he must say goodbye to Eloma.
He turned abruptly and began to walk away.
“Sano…” said Genji sadly behind him.
“Sano–” said Tomo, almost desperately.
Sano didn’t look back. Yahiko had joined him, and together they moved away from the now-nearly-silent people of the village. Nobody else called after him, and his friends had nothing else to say.
At the point in his path closest to the huddled knights, Sano stopped briefly. Without looking over at them, he announced loudly, “You guys are looking for that knight Hajiwhatever, right? Well, he’s not here. Follow us if you want to die.” At the moment these words were not just bravado; Sano was so angry, he was absolutely certain of his own powers at least to make these men sorry they’d ever laid eyes on him — and that was before taking into account Yahiko’s presence. Still, as the purpose of the statement was to draw the knights away from the village, he corrected himself. “I mean, if you want to find him.”
Then he and Yahiko continued wordlessly away from Sano’s house and out of town.
Chapter 7 – Alleged Miracles
In an attempt at distracting himself from just having been essentially banished from his home of nearly a decade, and in light of the fact that the knights didn’t follow them out of the town, Sano turned his entire attention on Yahiko as they walked up the mountain road. The boy, however, seemed disinclined for conversation and wouldn’t answer any of Sano’s questions. So Sano was even more frustrated than before by the time they reached his master’s home.
Seijuurou waited in the second room beside the bed, drinking, and looked over immediately when Sano entered with Yahiko in tow. His eyes fell from Sano’s unhappy face to Yahiko’s, and his brows rose. “Oh, was this all you could save?” he asked.
“Yeah, very funny,” Sano growled, closing the door behind them. “This is Yahiko; he helped me fight off some guards or knights or something that trashed my house and were threatening to do more if somebody didn’t tell them where me and that knight were.”
“Well, you need to get ‘that knight’ out of here,” Seijuurou said, gesturing with his bottle before raising it to his lips again. “He’s no good in my bed in his current state,” he added before taking another drink.
“Yeah, sure,” said Sano vaguely. “First, though, Yahiko keeps avoiding my questions.” He turned toward the boy, sank into a crouch, and put his hands on Yahiko’s shoulders. “Yahiko, seriously, how in Tomoe’s name can you fight like that?”
Yahiko avoided his gaze, staring instead at the door through which they’d just come. “I told you I learned from my dad,” he mumbled.
“Not that you didn’t,” insisted Sano. “Not at your age. I never saw anyone fight like that. I bet you could even beat Seijuurou here.”
At this Seijuurou looked quickly over, his true attention finally procured. “What was that?”
Sano rolled his eyes, though this was about what he’d expected. “Yeah, now you’re interested. You shoulda seen him.” He stood, addressing his next few earnest statements to Seijuurou, who’d gotten to his feet, set down his bottle, and come into the front room. “It was fucking amazing. He beat something like ten guys in maybe five seconds. I swear I’m not exaggerating.”
Seijuurou looked down at Yahiko for a long moment, and finally said simply, “Well?” And while Yahiko might have resisted Sano’s questioning, it took some serious backbone to stand before the mountainous bulk of keonmaster Seijuurou and be anything but totally honest.
“…Kaoru…” Yahiko said almost inaudibly.
“Speak up,” Seijuurou urged. “What about Kaoru?” His tone indicated unequivocally that the kid had better not be swearing randomly.
Finally Yahiko’s face rose, and he met Seijuurou’s eyes with that suddenly defiant manner Sano had seen him display once or twice before. “I prayed for power to fight and I got it,” he said clearly.
Violently Sano started. “I thought you said you’re a heretic!” he burst out before Seijuurou could say anything.
Yahiko glanced at him sidelong. “I lied.”
“And I think you’re still lying,” said Seijuurou, crossing his arms and continuing to look down critically from his great height on Yahiko. “Or at least not telling the whole truth.”
“The divine ladies talk to me,” Yahiko replied, a little wearily.
“The divine ladies talk to anyone who’ll listen, child,” was Seijuurou’s impatient reply.
His defiance returning, Yahiko elaborated, “I mean they all talk to me. I can pray to any of them and get whatever blessings I need, as much as I need.”
“That’s quite a claim.”
Sano snorted. “No shit.” And he stalked into the other room.
After the day he’d had, this latest revelation was more of a blow than it might otherwise have been, but in no case would he have liked it. He’d felt so sympathetic toward Yahiko; he’d compared him to his dead brother, for Yumi’s sake! And now to discover Yahiko was the exact opposite of what he had claimed to be… of what Sano was… Well, no wonder he hadn’t stuck around last week.
Seijuurou’s admonishing voice spoke to him from the doorway between the two rooms: “Don’t be petty. Didn’t he help you?”
“Whatever,” Sano growled.
A long period of quiet followed, and Sano got the feeling both Seijuurou and Yahiko were looking at him, waiting for him to turn and face them. He didn’t feel like it, though; instead, he let his eyes fall to the unconscious knight on the bed. The man’s form remained perfectly still but for the very slight movement of his chest occasioned by his shallow breathing, and his face bore an expression of pain.
Sano stared down at him while the silence mounted, thinking vaguely about Eloma and how he could never go back there. Finally, these disheartening thoughts becoming just a little too much for him, he forced himself to say something aloud to change the subject. “So what do we do with His Knightliness here?” It came out sounding almost angry, which was really no surprise.
“Hajime,” Seijuurou informed him, coming to stand beside the bed again and look down. “Apparently he’s the leader of Kenshin’s knights.”
“Right, whatever,” Sano grunted. “What do we do with him?”
“‘We?'” Seijuurou raised a brow. “He’s your problem. But I plan on sleeping in this bed tonight.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with him?” demanded Sano impatiently.
“I’ve never heard of someone waking up from a warrior’s coma,” Seijuurou remarked, rubbing at his chin contemplatively with one hand. “Though nobody in a warrior’s coma prior to this has ever had me around…”
“Yeah, maybe he just needs your cock,” Sano muttered, rolling his eyes.
Seijuurou smirked faintly. “Maybe he does.”
Again they fell silent, staring down, Sano considering the situation morosely while Seijuurou resumed drinking. However unpleasant it was to be banished, Sano was reflecting, it beat having your life slowly ebb away in a state somewhere between waking and death that yet was not sleep.
“Is he really just gonna die?” he finally asked quietly.
“If he can’t wake up, he’ll starve to death, or worse,” was the grim reply. “You might as well get a pyre ready. Unconsciousness seems to be an unusually stable way for you to connect your energy with his, so, if you want, I can knock you out again and you can find out if he has any last words.”
“Well, there’s gotta be something we can do… we can’t just stand around waiting for him to die…” It seemed such a sorry way to go. Sano didn’t much like what he’d seen of the knight so far, but the man surely deserved better than that.
“You could just burn him now,” Seijuurou suggested with dry facetiousness. “That would be faster.”
“It’s not funny!” said Sano hotly. “He came all the way out here to find you, and now you can’t do anything for him?”
Seijuurou shook his head. “I can’t. It’s unfortunate, but every great once in a while even I encounter something that can’t be defeated. While you were gone I tried everything I could think of to wake him up, and nothing worked. It would probably be kindest to end it quickly for him.” He lifted the bottle to his mouth again as he added, “But not in my bed.”
“I can’t accept that!” Sano insisted. Because he would be damned if he couldn’t get something to go his way today.
“You’ll have to,” Seijuurou said once he’d lowered his angiruou. “Stubbornness won’t wake him up. It was his choice to push himself beyond what his body could handle out of loyalty to that foolish king of his; now he’s paying for it.”
“But–” Sano began. He stopped abruptly, however, when Yahiko moved forward.
The kid’s voice was hesitant as he said, “Hey…” but it was enough to seize Seijuurou’s attention as well. He looked up at them nervously, then took another step between them, toward the bed.
Wordlessly and with mirrored expressions of surprise, the two men stood back a pace as Yahiko moved forward and reached out to place an uncertain hand on the knight’s bare chest. The boy did not look at them again, so he didn’t see Sano’s disparaging skepticism or Seijuurou’s interested curiosity; instead, he closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly.
“Megumi, lady of life,” he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper, “please use my hand to heal this man and wake him up.” Then he went silent and motionless.
Hajime opened his eyes. His face smoothed out somewhat from its previous expression of pain, but only for a moment; then his brows drew together again in confusion. He lifted a hand to touch his side where the injury had been, then ran one arm slowly over the other, along smooth skin that had mere seconds before been covered in small cuts. Finally he sat up.
Yahiko had by this time stepped back a few paces, putting himself behind Sano and Seijuurou, and would not meet Sano’s eye. Seijuurou, on the other hand, had drawn a step closer and was again fingering his chin thoughtfully, this time with a slight smile. “Well, well, well…”
Hajime looked at each of them in turn, then spoke. “How…” But he faltered in amazement after that single word.
Sano gestured. “Yahiko here healed you with his magic powers.”
Slowly Hajime swung his legs over the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath, and looked where Sano indicated.
“It’s not magic!” Yahiko was protesting. “I told you–”
“Right,” interrupted Sano a little bitterly. “Just like you beating a whole group of knights almost by yourself wasn’t magic either. The divine ladies all talk to you and give you whatever the fuck you want.”
Appearing hurt and agitated, Yahiko turned abruptly and went into the other room. Hajime watched him go, then gave his attention again to his own chest and side. He began untying the frayed strips of cloth that had served him up until now as bandages. Sano watched in silent wonder, noting not even a trace of blood on these.
Finally Hajime glanced up once more, this time at Sano. “You did this?” he asked.
“Yeah. You kinda collapsed in the forest, and I didn’t have anything else.” More quietly and mostly to himself Sano added, “That reminds me I left my backpack buried out there somewhere…”
Hajime finished removing the bandages and bunched them in his hand, staring down at them with a slight frown. To Sano it was understandable that, having gone from the edge of death to what seemed like perfect health in a moment, the knight would be somewhat disoriented.
Seijuurou did not seem nearly so understanding. “So, are you staying in my bed all night?”
Sano gave his master a look part skeptical and part angry. “Fucking Yumi, man, he’s been awake all of half a minute! He probably can’t even get up yet.”
But all Hajime said was, “No,” possibly contradicting both of them, as he then got up. He moved slowly at first, perhaps uncertain of his balance, but soon was walking purposefully out of the room.
“Thank you for healing me,” Sano heard him say to Yahiko.
During the silence that followed, Sano too made his way into the next room, where he saw Yahiko touching the front door as if he was, or had been, about to leave. Even as Sano appeared, though, the kid dropped his hand and turned to face Hajime. “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, with a faint smile.
A little stung, Sano demanded of the knight, “What, I don’t get a ‘thank you’ for bandaging you up and dragging your ass all over the place?”
Hajime turned toward him, but, though his yellow eyes flashed analytically over Sano from head to toe, he said nothing in response. Instead, he looked past Sano to where Seijuurou stood in the doorway between the two rooms. “And now, master Seijuurou,” he began somewhat acridly, “if you don’t mind having me in your house a little longer–”
“You misunderstood my question if you thought I minded,” interrupted Seijuurou easily.
Sano rolled his eyes.
“–I need to make plans for getting back to Elotica,” Hajime finished. And, after a quick glance around the room, he moved toward the table and pulled out a chair.
Sano mimicked him, seating himself near the knight and studying him with interest. Despite having been healed, Hajime still looked exhausted; Sano supposed the whole coma thing hadn’t been anything like a proper rest, which essentially meant Hajime hadn’t slept in, what? four days?
“So you’re just gonna head back right away?” he asked.
Hajime shook his head. “Not into Elotica immediately, no. I can’t just walk back into the capital; I’m too well known there.”
“At the palace and shit, sure,” Sano allowed, “but would normal people on the street recognize you?”
Drumming his fingers briefly on the tabletop, Hajime gave a sigh of annoyance. “Probably, since the king’s tournament a few months ago.”
“Tournament…” Seijuurou snorted in quiet contempt.
“Oh, I remember hearing about that,” Sano said in great interest. “I thought about going over there and joining, even, but…” Well, the truth was that he’d daydreamed of entering with a keonblade, but had known perfectly well he wasn’t up to the task. “I didn’t feel like walking that far,” he finished somewhat weakly.
“You?” Both of Hajime’s brows rose in obvious doubt.
“Hey, I’da done great!” Sano said hotly, in spite of what he’d just been recalling about the situation.
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Hajime flatly, and moved on before Sano could protest further. “Anyway, I’ll need to find out exactly how things stand before I know what to do next.”
Distracted from his annoyance, Sano wondered, “What’s to find out?”
“Soujirou is a follower, not a leader. He has provided good service to the king in the past, and is an excellent swordsman, but I don’t think this is the kind of thing he could or would do on his own. Someone is standing behind him giving orders, or at least suggestions, and that’s going to be my real enemy.”
“Any ideas who it is?”
“Several. Which is what I need to investigate.”
By this time Sano had made up his mind, and now stated it decisively. “Well, I’ll come with you.”
Hajime’s brows shot up again, this time more honestly disbelieving than derisive.
“No need to look like that about it, asshole.” Sano scowled at him. “I didn’t fight in your stupid tournament, so nobody knows me in the capital. I can get information a lot easier than you can.” Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anywhere else to go, now…
Again Hajime’s tone went entirely flat as he declared, “I am not taking you anywhere.”
“He might as well go with you,” Seijuurou put in unexpectedly. “I’m certainly not.”
Turning quickly toward him, Hajime asked, “Why not?”
Disinterestedly Seijuurou explained. “For Kenshin to run off and deliberately ignore my advice is his own business, but he cannot expect me to come to his rescue every time what I told him not to do gets him into trouble.”
“And what was it you told him not to do?”
“Rule the country, of course. He isn’t right for it. He’s too soft, too easily influenced by the appearance of suffering — but at the same time has an unfortunate tendency to believe that every idea in his head is his own and absolutely right. It’s a bad combination for a king.”
Thin lips pursed, Hajime looked at the table, appearing very displeased but evidently unable to argue. The question of who Seijuurou believed should rule Akomera went unasked, probably because of the knight’s discomfort.
“I see you’re aware of his flaws,” said Seijuurou with a sharp nod. He leaned against the doorframe again and crossed his arms. “Well, do what you like to put him back on the throne; that’s your job, after all. But I see no reason to rush to his assistance.”
“You would disobey a direct order from the king, then?” Hajime seemed somewhat irritated, but simultaneously closer to resigned than Sano would have expected.
“My authority over him predates his over me,” Seijuurou shrugged. “Besides, he hasn’t ordered me to do anything. All he did was tell you to find me.”
“I’ll help you,” Sano put in emphatically. “That Soujirou guy has it coming for what his men did in Eloma!”
Hajime looked at him, this time with less scorn and more straightforward appraisal. “What did they do?”
“They were pushing people around and threatening to destroy shit if they didn’t tell where I was — since they knew I’d hidden you somewhere — and now I’m kinda… kicked out… because of it…” The weighty awareness of that fact, which he’d successfully pushed from his mind in the light of other interesting topics, came abruptly and heavily back down onto him, and he found himself frowning more deeply than before.
“Predictable…” Seijuurou murmured.
“Anyway…” Sano struggled to pull himself together and finish what he had to say. “Yahiko and I had to fight ’em off.” He gestured again to the kid, who had at some point during this discussion drifted over to the corner formed by the fireplace and wall, seated himself in silence, and commenced listening.
Hajime glanced dubiously from Sano to Yahiko and back, and asked, “And how much good do you think you’ll do me — a boy in training who can’t even meditate and needs help from a kid to defend his hometown?”
“Who gives a fuck about meditation?” Slamming a fist down on the table, Sano insisted, “I can fight well enough! I woulda done fine without Yahiko even!”
“You would not,” said Yahiko quietly.
Sano jumped up, knocking the chair over in his haste, and drew his sword. The blade flashed out, translucent, bright, and long, as he glared at the knight across from him.
“You know what will happen if you damage my furniture,” was Seijuurou’s warning murmur from across the room.
But Hajime rolled his eyes. “Put that away; you’re not proving anything.” And as if to show just how little he cared for Sano’s wordless challenge, he stood, turning away from him, and moved toward Yahiko. “But you…”
The kid looked up at him wordlessly.
“I’m curious about this power of yours,” Hajime went on. “What exactly can you do?”
A little uncomfortably, Yahiko answered, “I dunno… whatever… I ask the ladies for whatever I need…”
“Show me,” commanded Hajime.
Yahiko appeared even more uncomfortable at this, and nestled back farther into his corner. “It… doesn’t really work that way,” he said. “I can’t do it just to show off.”
“I see,” said Hajime thoughtfully.
Sano broke in, impatient and somewhat irritated that his drawn weapon had been so coolly ignored. “He already healed you from some coma you weren’t supposed to wake up from. Isn’t that enough?”
Yahiko turned toward him an expression half defiant and half surprised. “You say that like you believe me or something.” He sounded faintly surly.
“Well, you obviously have some kind of power,” Sano allowed. “I never saw anybody kick ass like you did; no way can I not believe in that.”
Hajime nodded decisively. “Which is why he’s coming with me.”
“What??” This surprised outcry came from Sano and Yahiko both.
“I’m sure there’s at least one divine house involved in this,” Hajime explained, returning wearily to his chair. “Soujirou has been close to several of the high-level devoted for years. And if I know anything about the people of this kingdom, and Elotica in particular, neither side of this struggle will get much support from the population until somebody has told them what to think. Which means, sooner or later, whoever’s behind the usurpation will have to make some kind of ‘divine’ display affirming Soujirou’s claim to the throne in order to buy the loyalty of the flock.” He glanced at Yahiko again. “Having my own source of miracles will even the playing field somewhat.”
“I just told you it doesn’t work like that!” Yahiko protested. “I’m not a circus act!”
Hajime’s eyes were very serious as they narrowed slightly at the kid. “There’s a real need for your power here,” he said slowly. “Are you going to run away from that?”
Yahiko frowned, and didn’t seem to know what to say.
“He’s right, you know, boy.” It was the first time Seijuurou had spoken for a while, and his tone was as somber as Hajime’s. “You may have been brought here just now for a purpose.”
“Purpose…” Sano put in under his breath. “Not your cock, I hope…”
Hajime threw him a somewhat confused sidelong glance, but said nothing.
“I’ll… think about it…” Yahiko finally answered, staring down at his crossed legs in apparent agitation.
“Think quickly,” Hajime said imperiously. “I’m leaving soon.”
“And I’m coming with you,” Sano declared.
Yet again Hajime gave him an assessing look that seemed more than half scornful. Sano scowled defiantly back. Finally Hajime’s gaze flicked away from him in a movement that was almost a roll of eyes, but all he said was, “Fine.”
In some triumph and some irritation, Sano also looked away, and found Seijuurou staring at him with what seemed to be mild interest. Staring, more precisely, at the sword Sano still held. And with a start Sano realized why: somehow, even through the parts of the conversation that hadn’t angered him, Sano had managed to keep the energy blade firmly in place. Was it because of all the fighting he’d done earlier? There really was no way to tell. In any case, he didn’t need it at the moment, so he put it away.
At that motion, Seijuurou stood straight and sighed somewhat theatrically. “I suppose this means you’ll all be sleeping in my house tonight.”
Slowly opening the bottle in his hand, Seijuurou watched the tiny points of light brighten in the deepening blue-black beyond the edge of the roof. The space between the latter and the tops of the trees that hemmed his property was narrow, but what he could see was as satisfying as if the entire sky were open to his view. Parts of some constellations were already visible, and only becoming sharper.
After settling where and how his guests were to sleep, he’d come out for some quiet thought to his usual spot before the light had entirely faded; now he sat on the bench among the shelves in near-complete darkness. Early autumn evenings were always pleasantly warm, especially in this fine weather, even in the shadows, and it might be a while before he went back inside; but, then, it might have been a while before he went back inside even if it had been dead winter or a rainstorm. His clarity of thought was not dependent on any particular circumstance, but there was no shame in wanting to enjoy his angiruou in peace.
And the stars reminded him…
There were some things that just didn’t change — not in twenty-three years, nor, he thought, forever. Fortunately, one of those was the taste of alcohol and its effect on melancholy memories. He smiled faintly as he took and savored a long drink, tracing nonexistent lines between the stars just as he had back then, and remembering the remarks that had been made at that point.
Unfortunately, the remarks that had been made this evening were more present and of greater concern to him at the moment, less interesting though they were. Kenshin was in trouble again, and Seijuurou couldn’t help feeling a sort of vaguely paternal interest in Kenshin’s welfare. He’d given the king the warnings he had, back when they’d parted after nearly seven years of training, to guard against just such a circumstance. Kenshin, however, had too high an opinion of his own mental and moral resources to think much of the advice of others. Admittedly he always meant well… he just didn’t always choose well.
Such a man could do nothing better, if he was indeed bent on trying to rule a country, than to surround himself with equally well-meaning but more clear-headed people whose influence, if not overt, would still be significant. He could undoubtedly have benefited from Seijuurou’s presence in the capital long before this… but Seijuurou did not fancy living in Elotica and dealing with people in Elotica and being constantly reminded of his younger days in Elotica. And as for uprooting at a moment’s notice to run off to Elotica and rescue Kenshin from what might after all turn out to be a very transient threat…
That single-minded knight seemed effective enough for the purpose, at any rate, and, if Sano’s assessment of the little boy’s power was accurate, the child would be helpful too. As for Sano himself… Well, Sano was fairly good at filling Seijuurou’s shopping list every week… and at sex… and presumably at picking apples and oranges and whatnot… but at keonmastery he was still a near-complete failure, almost in proportion to his desire not to be. And then there was his propensity to champion unpopular attitudes as brazenly as possible…
Until he got over his heretic phase, Sano was likely to find most people even more ready than the inhabitants of Eloma to ostracize him or worse, because the general populace wasn’t capable of leaving well enough alone and allowing someone to believe stupid things in peace. Of course, there were multiple sides to every issue; if Seijuurou knew Sano at all, the latter had gone charging into that town attacking the guards without any strategy or even thought, giving the villagers little choice but to turn him out or appear antagonistic toward the new regime… the whole thing was undoubtedly a mess.
Still, a mess didn’t seem a good enough reason to hasten from home. Indeed, the result of Sano’s poor planning (and, hypothetical though his theory was, Seijuurou didn’t doubt that was what had taken place) was an even greater recommendation for rational forethought.
Just then Seijuurou looked around, broken from his thoughts. What sounded like a party of horsemen was approaching up the road. He couldn’t see them yet, but the noise of hooves and tack and muted voices was already audible. With the educated guess that this must be the guards defeated by the little boy earlier, he sat back, continuing to sip at his liquor, and waited calmly.
The glow of a lantern through the trees was the first visible sign of their approach, and eventually its light broke onto the clearing in which Seijuurou’s house stood and showed select details of the group behind the man that held it. The usurper, Seijuurou noted, had at least managed to get his followers looking like real knights; in the swaying light, their white-clad torsos seemed to float disembodied over their black trousers and boots, and the symbol of Gontamei was green on each chest. He wondered whether that prince had actually knighted them all or simply dressed them up for the occasion.
They’d certainly taken their time finding the place; Sano had come back from the village hours ago, and he’d been on foot. Given the bandages most of these men were wearing, they’d evidently had concerns other than following immediately, but still Seijuurou couldn’t think they took their mission terribly seriously. Though perhaps the supposed miracle had genuinely frightened them.
Two could ride abreast on the narrower way up the mountain from the crossroads, and now only the first couple of pairs filed off the road onto Seijuurou’s property before they all reined up. Seijuurou could sense, however, that there were ten or more of them all told, and wondered for the first time just how important this Hajime knight was (or was thought to be) down at the palace.
The newcomers looked around at the house, the kiln, and at Seijuurou himself in a mixture of anger and wariness. It was a mark of some sort of decent training that they saw him at all in the darkness under the roof, but his general impression of their abilities wasn’t terribly favorable. Finally one — in the forefront, but not the man with the lantern — rode forward a pace and addressed Seijuurou without dismounting: “Good evening, master!” His tone, however, was not nearly as polite as his words.
“Evening,” Seijuurou replied.
The man didn’t waste time. “We’re looking for some people. Have you seen either a royal knight in the Barenor’mei dress or a young man in red with brown hair?”
“They’re both inside,” Seijuurou confirmed with a gesture.
Either the frankness of the answer startled the stranger, or the latter hadn’t really been expecting to find what they were looking for here. It seemed to take him a moment of blank staring, after his initial start, to grasp the meaning of what Seijuurou had said. Then he dismounted, gesturing at the lantern-bearer beside him, and moved forward, hand on hilt.
“You haven’t had enough fighting today?” wondered Seijuurou mildly. “With that injury to your sword-arm, I doubt you can hold your weapon up for very long.”
Looking sourly at him, “That’s beside the point,” the leader said. It seemed evident he would much rather reply that, yes, they had — and possibly that, no, he couldn’t. “They’re wanted criminals, and we have a duty to do.”
“How patriotic of you,” Seijuurou replied, stoppering his bottle and setting it down beside him on the bench. “Our new king must be a generous man. But, no–” and here, leisurely, he finally stood– “I meant, haven’t the eleven of you had enough of getting beaten within an inch of your lives by a single person today?” And in a movement very much like a stretch, he took one of the swords that hung from hooks on the wall and slowly drew it.
The group shifted, clearly nervous. Ordinarily such a seemingly foolhardy challenge would be met with skepticism at the very least; that here it was not seemed to confirm Sano’s story about the fight in the village. Finally the leader asked in a tellingly shrill attempt at bravado, “Are you in league with that demon child?”
“I don’t know any demon child,” Seijuurou replied, “but I have heard about your defeat earlier. It’s going to be embarrassing enough, I think, reporting that to that king of yours; a second defeat in the same day may mean the end of your careers. But that’s up to you, of course.” He raised his sword slightly into the earliest suggestion of a combative position, his overall demeanor still relatively casual.
The guards shifted further, looking indecisively at each other in the uneasy lantern-light.
Not long after, Seijuurou was again seated on his bench, alone, sipping angiruou and watching the stars. No, he really couldn’t take this great threat to the kingdom terribly seriously.
Chapter 8 – Departure
The high walls were built of orangewood, and a citrusy scent hung in the air as Sano and Hajime made their way down the short corridors and around the many corners of the maze. By now Sano hadn’t the faintest idea where they were, or how far they might be from the exit, but they had to keep going; they had to get through this.
He was fairly certain others had done so, as a faint murmuring of voices came from somewhere… Sano couldn’t quite tell if it was far or near, and the direction in which it lay was equally ambiguous, since it seemed somehow just around the corner no matter how far or which way they walked. But he couldn’t help thinking of it as a hopeful sign.
Hajime remained wordless at his side, not so much in contemplation or concentration as in a seeming attempt to ignore Sano completely. This was rather irritating, but they moved so quickly through the convoluted hallways that Sano didn’t really have time to comment. But then they emerged into a more open space whence at least five separate paths led, and were forced to stop and consider their path more carefully.
The voices seemed distinctly louder from a narrow opening just to Sano’s right; he leaned slightly that direction, trying to hear them more clearly, and nodded. “This way,” he said with certainty.
Hajime barely glanced at him. “Why in Kaoru’s name would I take advice from you?” he wondered disdainfully, and headed immediately toward the opening he’d been examining to his left.
“Fine!” Sano glared at him. Determined, however, that they should not be separated, after a moment he jogged to catch up. “Asshole,” he muttered as they plunged back into the depths of the maze.
Sano awoke on a hard surface looking up at Seijuurou’s ceiling, and was at first rather disoriented. The ceiling was nothing unusual, but the hard surface was. Then, glancing around, he remembered: he hadn’t felt comfortable taking his usual place in the bed — and Seijuurou had been so annoyed anyway — and therefore had stretched out on the floor in the front room beside Yahiko. The latter was curled up to Sano’s right, the only one of them with a blanket over him, and to his right lay Hajime on his side. Sano, evidently the first to awaken, sat up.
Across the room — which, when full-length figures occupied a third of its width, wasn’t very far — Seijuurou stood arranging something or things on the table.
Curiously Sano asked, “What’s that?”
Seijuurou’s head twitched only slightly in Sano’s direction — just as Hajime’s had done in that dream just now — and he didn’t answer the question, so Sano got to his feet and went to see. The motion by which he picked up the first item to hand, which turned out to be one of Seijuurou’s spare shiiyao, turned into a stretch; Sano found himself rather stiff from having slept on the hard floor, especially given that, the night before last, all the sleep he’d gotten had occurred in a sitting position. Then he held out the old-fashioned, blue-grey garment at arm’s length, examining it.
Seijuurou finally deigned to offer an explanation. “You’re going to need to wear something other than that target you call a shiiya,” he said brusquely, “and your friend over there needs something, period.” Evidently he wasn’t entirely recovered from his annoyance of last night.
Looking over the remaining array of objects on the table, Sano felt his brows lower in some confusion. Besides the shiiya he now held, there was another, as Seijuurou had implied; a decent collection of food — mostly orchard fare, but a loaf of bread as well, which would leave Seijuurou with practically nothing; one of the larger, sturdier ceramic bottles Seijuurou made, corked and ready to go; a box Sano recognized as having come from the cabinet across from the fireplace and containing bandages; and, more to Sano’s shock than anything else, a small pouch of money. For someone claiming to be disinterested in the fate of — and upset with! — the king, Seijuurou certainly was doing a lot to help the people setting out to help Kenshin.
“Why–” Sano began, but was immediately overridden by his trainer:
“Why don’t you go retrieve your backpack from the forest?” It was a tone that would not be gainsaid, especially accompanied by Seijuurou’s folded arms, solid stance, and expression not simply guarded but visibly ready for all-out siege.
“Yeah…” This didn’t stop Sano from eyeing him suspiciously. “Why don’t I.”
From the crossroads, it took some thinking just to come up with a vague idea of the direction he’d taken to get Hajime away… was that two days ago now? At any rate, Sano wasn’t even remotely certain until he actually found the spot where he’d left his backpack that he would be able to locate it again. And the entire way, his head went around and around with bitter reflections about the entire situation and all of his companions:
How the hell did I get into this? I’m not even sure why I want to go with this Hajiguy on this quest or whatever it is. He’s a jerk. Hell, I might not even bother going if I had anywhere else to go… or anything better to do… Something about this is bothering Seijuurou, too… I wonder if he would’ve eventually agreed to go if I hadn’t volunteered so quick. And what’s with the kid? Someone who lies about being a heretic can’t be a very good follower of the damn pretend ladies…
Backpack rediscovered and retrieved with far less aimless wandering in the general vicinity than he’d expected, he turned to go back. He only encountered one other human on the road: a horsewoman, appearing totally local and totally innocent, nodded politely at him as she passed, and therefore didn’t worry him much. So he returned to Seijuurou’s house in good time, and reentered in the middle of a conversation.
“–for the three of you, a couple of days,” Seijuurou was saying. “You’ll have to stock up at Egato, dangerous as it may be to let anyone see any of you.”
Sano glanced from Hajime, who was combing out his unbound hair and evidently the main recipient of Seijuurou’s remark, to Yahiko, who sat motionless on the floor where he’d slept. “The three of us? So you’re coming, Yahiko?”
“Yeah, I guess…” Yahiko shrugged.
“And a sword?” Hajime was asking, putting his hair back up with a practiced hand.
“Outside,” said Seijuurou, and headed for the door. Hajime, following him, set the comb on the table and seized in exchange one of the shiiyao Seijuurou had laid out for them. Whether by chance or choice, he took the black one.
Sano put his backpack down and pulled from it the bottles he’d intended to fill for Seijuurou as usual come next weekend. Seijuurou would have to go into town himself to do his own shopping now, something he seemed to dislike intensely, and the thought made Sano grin a little. He started packing the things his master had provided for them, and eventually could ignore the remaining shiiya no longer.
As his eyes fell on it and his hands stilled after dropping the last orange into his backpack, Sano’s lips pursed. He touched the device on his chest and stared at the blue cloth on the table. The thought of taking off his red shiiya and leaving it here, of being no longer recognizable as a proud heretic to anyone that saw him, didn’t strike his fancy. After all, he’d had this one made specifically so people would know exactly what he was, that he wasn’t like them, that he didn’t believe all that nonsense they did and didn’t live by the same silly rules — that, if they were inclined to treat him badly for it, they might as well start immediately they met him. Leaving that behind would be… well, it would be a little like leaving a part of himself behind.
But Seijuurou was right, damn him… they were heading out on a sort of secret mission here, and the red shiiya with its great white empty teardrop did rather stand out (that was the point). And it wasn’t as if relinquishing it would force him to acknowledge any sort of belief in the nonsense or start following the silly rules. And he could always get it back later. With a grimace, he pulled the shiiya off and exchanged it for the one on the table.
Next he looked around, somewhat disconsolate at the flashes of grey-blue in the corners of his eyes from his own shoulders. Yahiko, he saw, had stood up and was standing uncertainly almost in the corner.
“Hey,” Sano said, pointing, “bring those blankets over here.
Yahiko glanced down at his feet, at the one blanket that had covered him and the other that had been spread out beneath the three of them. “He didn’t say anything about these…”
Sano snorted. “Guy can spare his extra blankets.”
Protesting no further, Yahiko did as he was told, and Sano stuffed the blankets into his backpack. It was a tight fit with all the other things in there, but at least the overall load wasn’t too miserably heavy — though he would probably think differently after a day’s walk with it on his back.
“Wouldn’t it be better to fold them?” wondered Yahiko.
“Why?” Sano looked at him in some surprise. “We’d just have to unfold them later anyway.”
“All right,” said Sano, hefting the bulging backpack onto his shoulders, “are you–” But as his eyes fell again on the boy, he frowned. Yahiko was still barefoot, still wearing that disreputable-looking, overlarge shiiya with just the one sleeve. “Uh, didn’t Seijuurou have anything for you?”
Yahiko appeared a little uncomfortable as he answered, “I’m fine.”
“If you say so,” Sano shrugged, settling the backpack more snugly as he did so. “Let’s go.”
Outside they found Hajime, now clad entirely in black, examining one of the longswords Seijuurou kept around for practice. Just as Sano and Yahiko emerged from the house, he was remarking, “This will do,” and returning the weapon to its sheath. The latter he then threaded onto his belt in place of the empty keonblade sheath he’d been wearing since Sano found him. Finally, apparently ready to depart, he threw a pointed glance at Seijuurou and said, “And we should go, if that’s the end of master Seijuurou’s magnanimous assistance on behalf of king and country.”
Turning away from him so abruptly that his hair whirled out behind him in a shining wave, Seijuurou said haughtily, “You’re welcome.” He didn’t walk away, though; he’d only turned toward the wall beneath the roof to take down another of the swords that hung there. “And Sano, remember–” he began.
Sano cut him off with a roll of eyes that was part sarcasm and part teasing; this was goodbye, after all. “What, your cock? Sure, fine.” And he grinned just slightly.
Seijuurou’s eyes narrowed as his glance flicked toward his erstwhile student and he returned the faint grin. “As if you could possibly forget that.” Then he held out the sword in his hand. “No, remember that a weapon you can’t master will do you more harm than good. Take this.”
“What?” Sano half yelped. “No!” Hands raised to ward off the offering, he backed away angrily. “I don’t need that! Why are you so sure I can’t–”
“Never mind, then.” This time Seijuurou’s scornful swivel away from them was more decisive and had an air of finality to it. “Get going, all of you.”
“Ladies, way to just kick us out,” Sano grumbled, watching his trainer head back into the house.
Seijuurou’s official farewell, without even a wave, was, “And tell Kenshin, if you see him, that I told him so.”
“Right…” Sano waited until the door had closed, then shook his head as he moved to join Hajime and Yahiko in walking away toward the road.
There was silence among them for some time as they went down the mountain. Sano was thinking how strange it seemed that he didn’t feel worse about leaving home like this, saying goodbye to Seijuurou and practically everything else he knew. He’d never been farther than Egato in his adult life, after all, and never to the capital; he’d certainly been unhappy last night about the prospect of never seeing Eloma again; and he’d expected to be at least a little moved by his parting with Seijuurou.
But he found now he was rather more excited than anything to be heading for Elotica; it would be so interesting to see the great stone city he’d always heard about, and (hopefully) to meet the king. Beyond that, that Soujirou bastard really did have it coming; doing something about him would be very satisfying. And as for Seijuurou… well, to be perfectly honest, Sano had never really liked him all that much. It would be nice not to have to do chores for him anymore, or put up with that grating I’m practically divine attitude of his.
Sano grinned. He discovered he was, in fact, not at all unhappy to be starting this journey now. He was even a good deal less upset with Yahiko than he had been last night, no matter what the kid claimed to hear — so much that, as Sano watched him walking there by his side, he felt prompted to resume their last topic of discussion.
“Seijuurou really didn’t have another shiiya you could use?”
“Yeah, he did,” Yahiko said, very reluctantly, tugging at the wide collar of his ragged outer garment, “but…”
“‘Cause anything’s better than that thing you’re wearing,” Sano added.
Finally Yahiko confessed, “It was just too creepy that he had clothes my size hanging around.”
On Yahiko’s other side, Hajime lifted one of the sleeves of the shiiya he wore. “Judging by the style of what he gave us, they’re probably his clothes from the Age of Knights.” Cuffs such as the one now pinched between Hajime’s fingers were long since out of fashion, as were the attached hoods that both his and Sano’s shiiyao bore.
“Yeah,” Yahiko agreed with a grimace, “and that’s creepy too.”
“Misao,” Sano chortled, “he probably is that old…” Because no matter how Sano had asked, Seijuurou had never been willing to confide his age. The Age of Knights, however, had ended seventy-three years ago, and Sano was thoroughly pleased at the implications of Hajime’s sarcastic statement.
“Incidentally,” Hajime wondered, looking sidelong at the laughing Sano, “what was all that about his… cock?”
Sano turned his eyes abruptly away, pointlessly scanning the trees to his right, mostly ironwood and oak, as they slowly passed. “The stupidest inside… thing… you never wanted to know.”
“I see,” said Hajime in a tone of understanding. “You two are lovers.”
“Not… exactly…” Sano shrugged. “That’s just how I pay him for the training.” He still did not turn his eyes back toward his companions, and fought to keep down a hard blush. However, the silence to his left stretched on so long that eventually he had to look. He found both of them staring at him with an expression he only ever saw on the faces of those raised in a society that didn’t look kindly on sexual relations between the unmarried.
“What?” Sano demanded hotly, feeling the blush rising despite his best efforts. “Something wrong with that? Not like I’m gonna accept charity even if he was nice enough to train me for free. I ain’t a beggar! I make good money! Just… not enough to afford a keonmaster.” He knew making such a fuss would have the opposite of its desired effect, and cursed himself and the situation silently. He didn’t want to be embarrassed about it, since he thought that particular rule was a load of bullshit invented and enforced by hypocritical church officials, but he’d never quite been able to escape some of the attitudes absorbed during childhood.
“Somehow,” Hajime murmured, “I think whatever you made would never be quite enough.”
“What do you mean by–” Although Sano was genuinely curious about the statement, which hadn’t been at all what he’d expected, it occurred to him belatedly that what he would most like was a complete change in subject. So he cut his question off abruptly and asked instead, “Hey, is this really something we should be discussing in front of a kid?”
“I’m not a kid,” said Yahiko at once.
“I wonder…” Hajime said thoughtfully.
Evidently under the impression that this had been in response to his declaration, Yahiko insisted more loudly, “I’m not!”
Hajime ignored his protest. “The king studied with Seijuurou when he was younger,” he said, still in that thoughtful tone, casting a meaningful glance over Yahiko’s head at Sano. “I wonder if…”
Sano immediately understood. “What?” he laughed. “No way! That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard! You should ask him!”
“You’re welcome to,” Hajime told him with a roll of eyes, “if, as I suspect, you enjoy making a fool of yourself.”
Not at all put off, Sano cried, “I will! Soon’s I see him, that’s the first thing I’m gonna say: ‘Did Seijuurou get your royal ass in exchange for training?'”
Apparently having altered his stance on whether or not he was a kid — or at least on what he wanted discussed in front of him — Yahiko said in a low, sardonic tone, “Yeah, you guys could change the subject any time.”
Sano thought he saw Hajime hide a slight smile behind a raised hand, and triumphed in the revelation that this allegiant royal knight was willing to talk about his king in such a fashion. However, instead of pursuing it, he complied with Yahiko’s wishes and found a new topic of conversation. “Soooo…. you said you think one of the divine houses is behind all this trouble?”
Any trace of amusement immediately fled Hajime’s face as he answered. “There’s more of society and politics than religion about how the heads of the houses interact with the nobility in Elotica. Soujirou has been close to most of them for as long as he’s been at Kenshin’s court. But to say I think one of the houses is behind this is going too far. Whenever Barenor’mei is in power, there’s always someone in Gontamei who thinks the rulership should go back to the original ruling family.”
“So what you’re really saying,” Sano summarized for him, “is you have no idea.”
Hajime hesitated a moment in apparent discontentment before answering briefly, “Yes.”
“Good thing I’m coming with you, then!” Sano grinned.
“Yes,” Hajime replied very dryly. “Good thing.” And almost imperceptibly he quickened his pace.
Although Sano hadn’t traveled very far, he had traveled fairly often, and knew the road to Egato quite well. He’d gone there probably every third week or so for the last several years, since running such errands for his fellow villagers quelled the restlessness that often afflicted him and rendered more bearable a rather dull routine of daily orchard-work. (Was he really going to miss Eloma? it occurred to him to wonder as he thought back on this.)
Currently they moved at a slower walk than Sano by himself usually did, to accommodate Yahiko’s shorter stride, but every step of the way was still familiar enough that Sano knew exactly where they were when evening fell; he didn’t need the old battered sign at a small crossroad to know Egato was 8ni down the left-hand way. He also knew of a good camping spot just off the road not far from the crossing, and there he suggested they stop for the night.
Hajime at first wanted to continue while there was any light left, but Sano eventually managed to convince him not only that they wouldn’t find a better spot to camp in that amount of time and should take advantage of this one while they could, but that, with only the one break they’d taken earlier for lunch, they’d made good time so far and could afford to turn in a little early. So they went aside into the trees where Sano indicated, and soon had come to a halt in a little clearing around a well used fire pit in the gathering darkness.
This palace mural, obviously, depicts Tomoe, the divine lady of death, who is often referred to as “the veiled one” or “she of hidden intent” because of the mystery that death represents to humans.
Divine lady Kaoru. As you can see, the symbol used to represent her is an erupting volcano, since she is (among other things) the lady of righteous wrath. Here’s the full-color version as well:
Imau (an original character) is Kenshin’s mother and the former queen of Akomera.