“So what’s your excuse?” This question, addressed by Yahiko to Hajime, was the next thing anyone said, and that several minutes later.
Sano still walked behind the other two, but not at a bad angle to see the quizzical look Hajime gave in return.
“We heard Sano’s,” Yahiko explained. “What’s yours?”
Into the silence that followed Sano finally stammered, “Heard my… wait…” As he worked out what Yahiko probably meant, he felt shock creeping over him as slowly and gradually as if he’d just witnessed something so incredible that his brain was struggling to catch up and even believe it had happened. “His excuse??”
“It’s interesting that you can tell,” said Hajime at last, in a thoughtful tone that gave no indication how he really felt about the question.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Sano still couldn’t entirely grasp what he was hearing, and was almost afraid to demand clarification in case he’d misinterpreted. Almost. “You’re a heretic too?”
“Yes,” Hajime replied simply.
Sano could not but protest this vehemently. “You could damn well have said something!” Part of his interest in the subject, he knew perfectly well, was relief that he was no longer the one under scrutiny, but he was also quite honestly annoyed that he and Hajime had this in common and the knight hadn’t bothered to mention it.
“Some of us don’t feel the need to walk around with it written on our chests,” said Hajime dryly.
“And here I was feeling outnumbered,” Sano grumbled. His hand went immediately, almost unconsciously, to the front of his shiiya, where there currently rode no heretically empty white teardrop symbol. He hadn’t really thought about it since he’d traded garments, but that was only because he’d encountered relatively few other people during that time. If he’d been in a town or if they had met a greater number of travelers on the road, he would undoubtedly have been more bothered by its absence.
“Don’t worry,” said the knight. “You’re still outnumbered in many ways.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sano demanded.
At the same moment, however, Yahiko continued with his train of thought, and he seemed to be the one to whom Hajime gave his attention. “There’s a feeling about people… I can tell when…” the kid began, then trailed off with a shrug as if the idea wasn’t worth completing. “So why don’t you believe?”
“Do I need a reason not to believe?” replied Hajime mildly. “It seems the burden of proof rests on those who do.”
“Hear, hear,” Sano wanted to say, but did not. He found himself quite interested in Hajime’s opinion on belief, and didn’t want to interrupt again at the moment; besides, he’d probably been belligerent enough to Yahiko for one day.
“To me,” the kid replied slowly, “I can’t understand how anyone could not believe.” He looked up at Hajime with a serious expression. “So, yeah, you need a reason.”
Hajime gave a brief, faintly amused laugh. “Pretentious child,” he said. “Well, then,” he went on in the tone of one delivering a much-practiced speech. “It’s impossible for me to believe in an organization as corrupt as the church of the divine ladies.”
Immediately Yahiko pointed out, “That’s just the human side of things, though…”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” said Hajime, less casually now but still with the ease of much repetition, “we live on the human side of things. The highest officials who serve your ladies and preach their word are rapists, addicts, power-hungry politicians, and worse. If you’d seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t be surprised the idea of following people like that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
Sano would never have told him, but Hajime made these points sound even more convincing than their innate logic could — much more convincing than Sano ever could, certainly. He couldn’t help admiring Hajime for it, and wondering at the incorrectness of the impressions he’d had about the man. In fact, he felt he had to say something. “And here I’ve been thinking all along you were another one of those self-righteous bastards who make other people’s lives hell and your own easier by quoting writ at just the right moment.”
Hajime threw Sano a skeptical look over his shoulder. “Have you heard me quoting any writ?”
“Well… no…” Sano admitted. “But I had you pegged as a loyal Kaoru man.”
“If I had to choose,” said Hajime, shrugging, “it would be Tomoe.”
“Oh, really?” Sano wondered in some interest.
But Hajime did not elaborate on why the lady of death would have been his choice, for Yahiko chose that moment to interject, “You don’t have to follow the church to follow the ladies,” at which Sano was surprised. He was accustomed to myriad responses to a revelation of heresy, but this was perhaps the least common. To most believers, to have faith in the ladies was to have faith in the church, and speaking out against the administration was heresy just as much as was speaking out against the divine.
Hajime too seemed surprised at Yahiko’s words. “You’re sounding almost heretical yourself now.”
“Hey, I like the church,” Yahiko assured them quickly. “I really do. But it isn’t what’s really important. So if that’s what bothers you, just ignore it.”
“It’s not that easy,” said Hajime.
“No, I guess not,” Yahiko sighed.
“Especially when we may have to deal with the church a lot in the next little while to figure out what’s going on in Elotica,” Sano put in.
He hadn’t really said it with any particular aim beyond expressing the concept, but it seemed to gratify both of his companions, as the conversation could then shift to the arrangement of the divine houses in the capital as far as Hajime knew. This turned out to be a good deal more interesting than Sano had expected — mostly because ‘as far as Hajime knew’ was primarily gossip. Like any villager, Sano had a healthy appreciation for gossip, and hearing the rumors about the various high-ranking religious officials in Elotica was very entertaining.
“So it sounds like the divine houses really are pretty important to what goes on in the royal ones,” Sano was musing.
“You’re just now convinced of this?” said Hajime dryly.
“Yeah, well, forgive me for not caring much what goes on halfway across the kingdom.” Sano realized even as he said this that it left him open for some insulting comment about his ignorant country ways, and tensed in readiness for it.
Hajime, however, evidently decided it wasn’t worth it, for all he said was, “Even if it turns out one or more of the divine houses didn’t put Soujirou up to this in the first place, they could be serious opposition; we’ll need to find out what they think of him and how much support they’re offering.”
“Well, we can use Yahiko for that,” Sano shrugged. “That’s right up his alley.”
After a pensive noise that seemed to express some agreement, Hajime went silent for a while. Finally he said, “There are a number of groups we’ll need to research, to find out whose side they’re on and what they plan on doing about it, if anything — but I’m convinced the divine houses are the most important.” He almost seemed to be speaking to himself, quietly, thoughtfully, as he went on, “We’ll have to find some way to get a reasonable amount of accurate information from all of them without arousing suspicion… without knowing, on the way in, which ones may be on our side, and who among them is trustworthy… And they’re all so exclusive in their corners of the city…”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” Sano admitted. He’d heard vaguely of the divine houses having their own private plazas in Elotica, and realized as Hajime spoke that it probably would be rather difficult to pick up detailed information from any of them. He had to shrug again, though, as he added, “But as long as we have Lady-Chatter here–” But that was as far as he got.
For Yahiko interrupted pointedly, “I’m trying to decide which one of you is the bigger jerk.”
“What?!” Sano yelped, turning to face Yahiko in shock. “How could that even be in question? What are you talking about?”
Yahiko had stopped moving, and looked upset again. He began speaking very quietly. “Every time I save someone’s town from guards or heal someone from a coma, people start talking about the amazing prophet boy, and the devoted hear about it, and one of them decides that he just has to have the amazing prophet boy at his shrine, but never bothers to ask the amazing prophet boy how he feels about it, because he’s a little orphan kid who obviously can’t make his own choices for his own life.”
He turned his angry eyes specifically upon Sano and demanded more loudly, “Why do you think those devoted were really following me that day? You think they chased me that far just because I stole something?”
Sano opened his mouth to answer, but nothing emerged. He was too surprised.
“No,” Yahiko went on, more loudly still, “they wanted to put me in a floor-length shiiya on a giant chair in a boiling room with a million candles to talk to the divine ladies all day and all night every day for the rest of my life!” By now he was almost shouting. “And somehow I thought you’d be better because you don’t even believe in any of it, but you’re just as bad as any of them!” His gaze took in Hajime as well, but this seemed primarily aimed at Sano. “All you care about is using me for whatever it is you want to do, just like all the rest of them!”
Somewhat dumbfounded, Sano continued to stand and stare, still unable to say a thing. At the beginning of this little tirade, it had felt like something out of nowhere — but he realized, as he looked back, it had probably been building up ever since he’d dragged Yahiko to Seijuurou’s house, and the conversation just now had simply been the final straw. The unpleasantness earlier probably hadn’t helped. And it had never occurred to Sano that Yahiko might feel this way. Of course the kid had a point, but Sano wasn’t… he wouldn’t…
“If you’re finished,” said Hajime coolly, “let’s keep moving.”
Now it was Yahiko’s turn to appear somewhat dumbfounded.
In fact his shock at Hajime’s cold words was evidently so great it seemed to compel the knight to explain. “I was sent to bring back the great keonmaster Seijuurou,” he said flatly, “to assist in a large-scale political struggle, and instead I’ve got two worthless kids to babysit. But at least two is better than one. You’re coming with us and you’re going to do your part to restore Kenshin’s throne.”
Sano was momentarily distracted from the real issue. “‘Worthless kids?'” he demanded irately.
Yahiko, on the other hand, turned abruptly, his face set, and began walking away from them back up the road. Without thinking, Sano took a step after him, reached out, and put a restraining hand on his arm. Immediately Yahiko tried to pull away, and Sano tightened his grip.
“Let go!” Yahiko commanded, struggling, and Sano looked around helplessly at Hajime. They couldn’t force Yahiko to stay with them if he didn’t want to, could they? Hajime’s expression was dark, and it looked as if he was about to speak, but the next moment they both heard Yahiko murmuring fiercely, “Kaoru, lady of strength, please give me the power to escape from these two bastards.”
Sano let go of him abruptly and stepped back, almost as much out of shock that his actions had made Yahiko feel the need to pray for ‘power to escape’ as out of interest in what would happen. He hadn’t meant to make Yahiko feel trapped; he hadn’t meant to be one of those people Yahiko had described that just wanted to use the kid for their own ends. He got the feeling he’d really fucked things up.
Not that Hajime had helped.
Yahiko’s eyes were closed, his fists clenched. For a moment he stood utterly still. Then in quick succession his face went pale and then red, and he seemed to tremble as if trying to control some violent emotion. At last he relaxed in a wilting sort of gesture, his hand uncurled, and he opened sorely disappointed eyes to stare sullenly at the ground.
“Finished?” Hajime wondered mildly. Sano had the urge to punch him.
“She said I run away too much!” Yahiko burst out. “She’d support me if…” But looking up into their faces caused his to twist into a bitter, miserable expression of helpless anger. “Fuck you both,” he muttered as he turned his eyes back toward the road again.
When it was apparent Yahiko would continue walking with them at least for now, they moved on. Nobody said a word, however, and the atmosphere was tense and unhappy. The kid’s steps seemed extremely reluctant, and he continued to stare at the ground.
He didn’t say one single thing to either of them for the rest of the day, and, the moment they stopped to make camp for the night, extracted his blanket from Sano’s backpack and curled up underneath it a few yards away with his back to them. When Sano tentatively asked if he wanted something to eat, he pulled the blanket over his head.
The two men ate their own supper in silence, looking from time to time over at Yahiko, who eventually relaxed, apparently in sleep. At that point Hajime moved to start building a fire, a task Sano impatiently took over. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to him,” he said accusingly as he worked.
Hajime raised a brow. “Neither did you.”
“I didn’t call him a ‘worthless kid,'” said Sano.
“No, you said he wasn’t even human.”
Sano flushed. “I… I was pissed! I wasn’t thinking straight! And I apologized. He knows I didn’t mean it. You just say shit all calmly like you mean every word of it.”
“Of course I mean every word of it,” Hajime snapped. “Those of us who can control ourselves like reasonable adults have a tendency to do that.”
Brows drawing together, Sano stared at him. “Then you’re doing exactly what he said!” he protested. “You’re just using him!”
“I thought that was the understanding from the beginning,” said Hajime curtly. “I believe I told him I’d be taking him with me because his power could be useful against our enemies.”
Sano didn’t know what to say, so he only scowled.
“It is… unfortunate…” Hajime went on, seeming to force the words out, “that he feels the way he does about it. But there’s nothing I can say to change that, or the situation.”
“You could…” But Sano really had nothing to suggest, and to admit Hajime was probably right.
“Besides…” Hajime fixed Sano with a very pointed look, and continued in an easier tone, “I plan on using you too, and I don’t see you throwing a temper tantrum.”
“I… what?” Sano had been ready to say something, but was put a bit off balance by Hajime’s statement — not least because the phrase ‘I plan on using you too’ was so rife with meaning.
Hajime smirked faintly. “What you both apparently need to realize is that there are some causes worth being ‘used’ for. You’d think his beloved ladies would have told him that,” he added with a touch of sarcasm, “in their infinite wisdom.”
“Yeah, funny how your wisdom beats the ladies’,” Sano said, though he wasn’t sure whether he intended this as an insult directed at Hajime or a derisive comment on the supposedly all-knowing nature of the divine. He was annoyed, partly with himself and partly with the knight; he didn’t know what he thought of what Hajime had said, nor how he felt about the situation with Yahiko; and he didn’t really want to keep discussing it right now.
So he pulled out the remaining blanket, since it was his turn tonight, and stretched out on a side of the fire where he could put his back to both of his companions. He didn’t want to think about either of them. Of course he would think about both of them, but that didn’t mean he had to look at them.
Eventually he fell asleep, and had a string of hazy, uncomfortable dreams that were full of guilt and pity and irritation, and yet drenched in a sense of inevitability, which was in itself annoying. Needless to say, Yahiko and Hajime featured prominently in these visions, though Sano, upon awakening, could remember very little of what had happened in any of them. Though that might have been because what he found in the morning worked quickly to drive all thoughts of the night’s sleep from his mind.
Yahiko was gone.
For a moment Sano was surprised, not because Yahiko had chosen to leave at all but because he’d been quiet enough not to rouse either Sano or Hajime in doing so — but after that moment even that surprise faded. It wasn’t the first time Yahiko had done something that seemed completely impossible right before Sano’s eyes; anyone that could take out ten armed men in half a minute could sneak away from two others. Even if they’d seen this coming — which Sano supposed he really had, at least subconsciously; he had no doubt Hajime had — there was little they could have done about it.
Yahiko had folded his blanket and left it lying on top of Sano’s backpack, the same as he’d done to the bedding he’d used in Sano’s house that first night, and looking at it brought an unexpected pain to Sano’s heart. He hadn’t known him long, and didn’t know him very well, but he’d felt genuine interest in Yahiko’s situation as a solitary orphan. He definitely thought there must be something wrong with the kid that he believed what he did, but at the same time he regretted a lot of what he’d said to him, and the way he’d said a lot more of it.
And then there was still the fact that Yahiko was about the same age Outa would have been; and certain similarities of temperament Sano thought he detected between Yahiko and himself made the kid seem all the more like a sort of surrogate brother. But now he was gone and, like Outa, Sano would probably never see him again in this world. What was worse, he was gone thinking badly of Sano, and at least part of it was certainly Sano’s fault.
Today Hajime had awakened before Sano, and had been sitting silently beside the cold fire pit eating an apple while these thoughts went through Sano’s head. He was stripping the thing down with vicious teeth, Sano noticed abstractedly, tearing at it with all the method and thoroughness he might have used to pull flesh from bone on a roast chicken leg, leaving as little of the core behind as he could. Sano, finding he had no appetite of his own at the moment, began packing up. He saw out of the corner of his eye Hajime rising and apparently throwing that sliver of a core out into the trees. Sano braced himself for some comment he would rather not hear.
All Hajime actually said was, “Wouldn’t it be better to fold that other blanket too?”
Sano snorted. Hajime undoubtedly had no idea he was echoing Yahiko, but it was interesting he’d managed to bring up the same concern. As he had then, “Why?” Sano wondered. “We’ll just unfold them again later anyway.”
Whether something in Sano’s voice or face gave him pause, whether Hajime really did have some sense of empathy somewhere inside him, or whether he simply had nothing to say on the matter, the knight made no comment whatsoever about a third of their party having disappeared during the night; he merely joined Sano in walking away from the little area they’d used for their camp and back onto the road, and together they moved on wordlessly toward Elotica.