Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Tanabata Jasmine ❯ Betrayal ( Chapter 19 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Enjoy!

Warning: random deaths may occur. You may or may not care.

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and all associated characters will never belong to me.

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Tanabata Jasmine Chapter 19

The hours wore on, and Bayushi did not return. Kenshin tracked the passage of time by the lengthening shadows under the window, watching the light fade away from the day with a hooded gaze. He sat against the wall, supported his right arm across raised knees, and waited.

There were guards on the other side of the door. Occasionally he could hear them, conversing in low voices. He heard his own name more than once, spoken with a nervous edge. They brought him water just before sunset, setting it just inside the room, glaring suspiciously at him the entire time. In other circumstances, Kenshin could have found their wariness amusing. Instead, he barely acknowledged their entry, sunk in the mire of his own confused thoughts.

Bayushi was owed a debt, that much was certain. Despite Senzo's underhanded trickery and Yamato's rough treatment, he found he couldn't blame the older man for his decision to bring him here.

On the other hand, Kenshin wasn't willing to calmly accept his death, either.

Which complicated matters, to say the least.

His words had hit the mark, he knew - faced with a wounded and unconscious enemy, Bayushi had balked at killing him outright. Hardly the demon of legend, indeed. Ironic that the injuries inflicted on his way to Kyoto were likely the reason he was still alive.

Bayushi might find his desire for execution diminished, but he also couldn't afford to let Kenshin go. Not if he'd made a deal with Yamato. And Yamato had certainly made his own desires clear enough. He would return to Kyoto, eventually. What then? And the question he always seemed to come back to: what did Yamato gain from handing him to Bayushi, apart from an indirect sort of vengeance for Shishio Makoto?

Kenshin sighed. If given the chance, he would ask. After all, it was possible that Bayushi would want to finish their interrupted conversation before he made any decision.

For now, he would concentrate on simpler matters.

The water he drank slowly, unwilling to risk his uneasy stomach rejecting it. He saved a portion and set about gingerly cleaning the crusted blood from the kunai wound. It was an awkward and painful task, given the enforced usage of his bad arm - the best he could do was moisten the skin and smooth the blood away with careful fingers. His attempt was too late, in any case. The wound Yoshida had given him was short in length but deep, and the edges were an angry red against the stark pallor of his skin. Infection had begun to set in. Unsurprising, when one considered the amount of time it had gone untended.

He smiled humourlessly. The revelation didn't concern him much, comparatively. His situation was likely to be resolved one way or the other before the injury could complicate things further. Either Bayushi would return to kill him, or Yamato if the older man found he could not, and he would see just how capable he was of fighting for his life in his current condition ...

... or the Oniwabanshu would find him. Because logically, if Kaoru and the others had come to Kyoto, they would go to the Aoiya for help in tracking him down.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that - on one hand, the situation was far too volatile for him to feel comfortable about the involvement of his friends. Particularly as Bayushi already knew that they were here. The idea that Kaoru, or Yahiko, or anyone else he cared about, could get hurt trying to help him, wasn't one he was able to stomach.

On the other hand, he couldn't deny that the possibility of assistance from the Oniwabanshu was a heartening thought. Unless he managed to free himself in the meantime - and with armed and wary guards at the door, he suspected an escape attempt was unlikely to work - he was going to need the help, much as it might hurt his dignity to admit it.

One option or the other. And very little that Kenshin himself could accomplish, for the moment. So he waited patiently, biding his time, conserving his strength.

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The bruises from Senzo's broken nose were fading now; were almost invisible, compared to the mottled black across his chin and jaw where the chair leg had hit him. Kenshin, once again, had distinctly not been gentle. The look of banked fury in those violet eyes was a memory the merchant would carry with him into sleepless nights for weeks to come.

Still, he was not the type of man to hold grudges, particularly when he was honest enough to admit that he'd well deserved the rurouni's anger. The fee he was promised more than made up for the discomfort he was currently feeling, in any case. Senzo could sell silk and flowers for another year and still not earn the same amount Bayushi had paid him.

He'd dared to ask after Kenshin yesterday, when he visited Bayushi to collect the other half of his fee. Curiosity had provoked his enquiry, along with the half-flustered look the old man wore when he entered the room. The response he received was expected. A flat glare. A reprimand. That is not for you to ask. The message was clear: the rurouni's welfare was no longer any of his concern.

Shame, really.

He was in the process of lighting candles for the evening when there was an unexpected knock at the door. Senzo straightened with a frown. The only people who knew where he was currently residing were Yoshida and his men - and as far as he was aware, none of them were due to return for some time.

Had someone found him after all? He stooped to pick his shinai up from its resting place on the futon and approached his door tentatively. “Who is it?”

The voice that answered was familiar, and entirely unexpected. He blinked at the muffled words, and unlocked the door, easing it open enough to peer at the two men standing on his doorstep. Aki and Hiro. Men he hadn't expected to see here, of all places. He raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“Much as I am delighted that you have been freed, I shall be very curious as to how you managed it,” he said pleasantly. “A deal? Can I expect the ever respectable police to pay me a visit in a few moments?”

“We've led nobody here, Senzo-san,” Hiro replied in subdued tones. His voice had improved over the past week, which was a blessing. Senzo had always preferred talking to Hiro out of the two. More levelheaded, and capable of better conversation by far. “Sumimasen ... the police were told of your general destination, but that was all. They let us go when we mentioned Kyoto.”

“And they freed you on the strength of narrowing down my whereabouts to a large city?” Senzo's tone was dry. “I see.”

He peered past them to the narrow street and searched the gathering darkness for potential trouble. Finding nothing, he glanced back to them and sighed.

“Ah, well ... I suppose you'd better come in before you do attract attention.”

He opened the door for them and gestured inside with a flourish, noting with mild amusement the abashed shuffle of their feet. Like a pair of errant children, they were; aware of his displeasure and trying their best to look suitably guilty. He believed them; there was nothing nervous in their presence, and neither of them had ever been creditable actors.

That didn't explain why the police had allowed them to walk away. Not for such a relatively useless piece of information. Something else was afoot; he considered the potential involvement of Yamato for a moment, and then discarded the idea. Yamato may have been likely to have their throats slit in a cell, but he certainly wouldn't attempt to pull strings for their freedom. Yet he couldn't think of another soul with ties to the police who would want the two of them to walk free.

He moved back to the table, returning to his task of lighting the room, resting the shinai loosely against his shoulder. “I expect you're looking for Yoshida-kun. He will be most happy to hear of your release, once he returns. I believe he has business elsewhere in Kyoto for the moment. Provided you don't attract attention to yourselves, you are most welcome to wait for him.”

“And our fee?” From Aki this time, sullen as always.

“Yoshida has his share already,” he replied patiently. “You know our agreement. He pays you, not I.”

The merchant set the third candle down, and jumped as there was a quiet knock, yet again, at the door. He narrowed his eyes. So soon after the arrival of his two surprise guests?

The handle was tested once, with a quiet rattle.

Then the door crashed inward, splintering under the weight of a small, lithe figure. A stranger, unsheathed tanto in hand, who scanned the room in a brief second, fixed his dark eyes on Senzo, and with a controlled sweep of his free arm sent a glittering arc of metal whining across the room.

Senzo stood frozen in shock, fingers slack on the shinai in his hand. Someone' s trying to kill me? Belatedly he realised that some sort of attempt to defend his life should be in order, but by then it was too late. It was only with the intervention of Hiro, hurtling into him and sending them both crashing to the ground, that the shuriken missed their target. Aki leapt across the room with a snarl, sword in hand as the would-be assassin ducked inside the door.

The impact with the ground drove the air from Senzo's lungs. He gasped under the weight of the other man, barely registering the clang of steel as Aki was parried effortlessly. He was more concerned with his lopsided view of the open doorway; his assailant hadn't come alone; two more figures made an entrance, coming straight for them. Ludicrously, the only thought in his head was: that's the second door I've lost. And then Hiro was rising, hauling him up by the shoulder of his kimono and shoving him away towards the back of the room, drawing his own sword with pale calm.

Senzo staggered at the force of the shove, and turned back in confusion, hands gripping his shinai with more assurance as his mind started working through the shock. He was just in time to see the first man catch Aki's sword barehanded, wrench the blade upward and drive his tanto through Aki's throat.

Blood fountained as the blade was jerked free of flesh. A small sound escaped Hiro as the body dropped bonelessly to the ground. For a moment, Senzo thought with horror that the death of his brother would cause the swordsman to drop his guard and get them both killed; but Hiro maintained his deathly calm, keeping on the defensive, barely managing to hold the blades of two attackers back. A level of skill that he wouldn't be able to maintain for long. If Aki and Hiro were outclassed - and he had to assume they were, given the ease with which Aki had fallen - then he, Senzo Karanai, would be no match for them at all.

“Senzo-san.” Hiro snapped. “Run.”

Senzo didn't need to be told twice. White-faced, he whirled on his feet and bolted out the door leading to the rear of the dwelling. If he was lucky, Hiro would hold them off long enough for him to escape to the back alley. He would mourn the man's death, of course - but such grief was only possible if he managed to survive.

He rounded the corner of the hallway, running for the door - and barely stopped himself from shrieking as a fourth man materialised between the merchant and freedom. Clearly, they'd counted on him fleeing. He skidded to a halt, nearly losing his footing in his attempt not to collide with the man advancing on him with measured steps. Behind him he heard the unmistakable sound of a body falling. Hiro was dead. There was no going back. Quite possibly, he was going to die here.

On the other hand, the man before him didn't seem armed. Senzo brought his shinai up, swinging for the man's face. One good strike - just one - and he might stun the man at least long enough for the merchant to get past him.

His attack was too panic-driven to be effective. The man evaded the wild swing easily, reached out to snag Senzo's wrist and snapped his hand backward. Now he did shriek. The shinai dropped from nerveless fingers as he was yanked forward and thrown into the wall.

The impact, and the agony of his broken wrist, caused him to slide toward the ground. His attacker didn't let him fall; hands deftly settling the thin wire of a garrotte around his neck, hauling him upright with a strangled whimper. He clawed at the wire with his uninjured hand, dimly aware that he could still hear the sounds of fighting from the front room. Odd, when Hiro had already fallen. Hadn't he?

And then, there was silence.

“Let him go.”

The words were cold, but authoritative. There was a pause, the quiet broken only by the stuttered sound of Senzo's struggle to breathe.

Then the garrotte dropped away from his throat. He slid to the ground and stayed there, shaking with relief. Someone had arrived to save his life. He turned his head in the direction of the voice, and saw yet another man, several feet away, that he didn't recognise.

A tall one, clothed almost entirely in black, dark hair barely long enough to brush the nape of his neck. There was a cut trailing fresh blood on his cheek, but that was the only mark on him, which spoke of a great deal of skill in itself, considering the man had just come through the front room. His green eyes flicked a brief, distant glance to the shivering merchant, then back to the man he'd directed his words to.

Senzo had no idea who he was. His attacker, however, apparently did.

“Shinomori Aoshi,” the man said evenly. “What have you done with my men?”

Shinomori Aoshi? He knew that name—

“What was necessary,” Aoshi said quietly. “I don't know what you want with the merchant, but I have a prior claim on him. I give you one chance to leave.”

Shinomori Aoshi, reputedly one of the men that had assisted Battousai in defeating Shishio Makoto. Bayushi had told him as much. A prior claim? Then this wasn't a rescue. Senzo struggled to his knees, heart hammering in his chest, as his assailant snarled and charged the onetime Okashira.

It was very quick. Aoshi evaded the punch and thrust one kodachi forward, puncturing flesh to impale the man through the shoulder. The man grunted in pain, twisting a hand up to latch onto the metal as Aoshi reversed his grip on his free blade and cracked the hilt into his jaw.

Senzo finally managed to stand, weaving on his feet, as the last of the would-be assassins slid to the floor. His tone was almost mournful. “You're not killing him?”

He regretted the words as soon as he'd spoken them. Green eyes snapped to meet his immediately, unsettlingly direct.

“Senzo Karanai.” The words were cool, as he flicked the blood from the kodachi. “Where is Himura Battousai?”

The door to the alley, standing open, was not so far away; Senzo turned and ran for the darkness outside. Aoshi made no move to follow him, which was surprising - until a bandaged hand snaked out of the gloom as he cleared the threshold, bunching in the front of his kimono and hauling him off his feet with a yelp.

“Yo, flower-seller.” Sagara Sanosuke bared his teeth in a feral smile, face inches away from the merchant's own. “Remember me?”

And after that, there seemed to be only one option left to him; one he was quite willing to take, not being a particularly brave man.

Senzo Karanai fainted.

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Next chapter will more or less continue this scene, so if you're wondering who's attacking Senzo, and why Aoshi and Sano arrived in the fashion they did, then don't fret: it'll be explained next chapter.

Bakachuuu: ::leaves pocky:: Yup, I remember going through this with you too. ^^ Was the first time I ever used the dialogue first, scene later rule… thanks so much for putting TJ up to be featured!

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Mini Glossary

Sumimasen = pardon me/excuse me (also used as yet another apology)

Tanto = dagger

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Next chapter: the hunt begins in earnest. Plus Senzo whines a lot. Random Senzo-bashing may yet again occur.