"Kyoto Interlude" by Omasu Oniwaban by The Archivist

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Misao’s baby caught a cold. Kaoru decided to stay another week to help, so Yahiko found himself going back to the temple to visit the guard and to hear more stories about when the shinsengumi lived there.

Once Sano showed up with a package of medicine sent by Megumi, Yahiko had even more reasons to slip away. Sano refused to treat Yahiko with the respect he deserved. He’d been away for years in China, and when he returned it was as if he expected everything to go back to the way it was. Stupid rooster-head.

Everyone knew Sano was the reason Megumi moved back to Tokyo from Aizu, to take over Dr. Genzai’s practice when the old man’s failing eyesight made it impossible for him to continue practicing medicine. Yahiko had to grudgingly admit that Sano was different around her now. He was on his best behavior with the lady doctor, and though they still sparred verbally as they had before, there was a gleam in their eyes that told Yahiko that the exchanges were leading somewhere. He wished Sano would just get it over with and ask Megumi to marry him. It was obvious that they both wanted to.

“Hey Yahiko-chan, have you finished helping Kenshin with the laundry? Misao wants to know if the diapers are dry yet.”

Sano’s voice called across the back yard of the Aioya. Yahiko flushed red and glared at the lazy bum leaning against the wall of the bustling restaurant, arms folded, chewing on his ever-present fishbone.

“In a minute!” Yahiko hollered back.

“There’s something I thought I’d never see, Yahiko folding laundry. Isn’t that Kenshin’s job?” Sano drawled.

Yahiko jerked the last diaper off the clothesline and added it to the pile balanced over his arm. “Kenshin’s out getting more pickled ginger for the restaurant since SOMEONE ate the last of it last night,” he said, sending a glare at Sano.

Sano raised his hands in mock surrender. “They don’t make pickled ginger in China the way they do here. I went for years without it. You can’t blame a guy for making up for lost time.”

“You’re sure not in much of a hurry over Megumi,” Yahiko muttered, stomping across the yard.

“What was that?” asked Sano.

“Nothing,” growled Yahiko. Years before, he would have shouted it at Sano and added an insulting remark or two, but now he realized it wasn’t worth it.

Okan and Omasu came out back just then, giggling over something cute the baby had done, and took the clean diapers from Yahiko, sweeping back into the restaurant in a swirl of aprons and thank-yous.

Yahiko followed them, Sano close on his heels, just as Kenshin returned through the side door bearing jars of pickled ginger in his arms.

The passageway became suddenly crowded as Kaoru skipped down the stairs to take the diapers from Okon and Omasu, and saw her husband waiting patiently for the knot of womenfolk blocking the way to dissipate.

“Kenshin! You’re back!” Kaoru called out joyfully. “Misao’s had the most wonderful idea. We’re all going to help her finish that baby quilt she was talking about. We thought we’d get together tonight after the Aioya closes.”

Okon and Omasu immediately began to murmur their approval of the plan, but Yahiko distinctly saw Kenshin wince before plastering his rurouni grin on his face.

Behind him, Yahiko heard Sano mutter, “Not if I can help it.”

Sano’s hand came down on Yahiko’s shoulder reassuringly. “Tonight is gonna be a ‘Guys night out’!” Sano promised.

Remembering the last ‘Guys night out’ and the subsequent hangover he’d endured the entire next day, Yahiko could barely repress a shudder. It was time for another trip to the temple.

It was easy to slip out during the dinner rush. Sano was always distracted by free food, and stuffed himself at dinnertime. Kaoru was usually too busy to do more than scold Yahiko absentmindedly whenever she noticed he’d disappeared for a few hours. Surprisingly, Kenshin usually defended Yahiko, telling Kaoru that young men needed to explore new cities, and that quieted Kaoru.

Truth was, Yahiko needed to get away from the Aioya at times. Aoshi could always retreat to his personal temple to meditate, and gain respite there. Kenshin didn’t care about the bustle or baby talk, he seemed happy to be near Kaoru no matter what, and would put on his rurouni smile and endure. Sano’s method of escape – drinking and gambling – gave Yahiko a headache, so Nishihonganji temple it was.

Yahiko found himself smiling at the thought of that oasis of peace in the big city. With the Buddhist priests gone on their month long retreat, once the gates closed to visitors the place was virtually deserted. The big security guard was on duty for the late afternoon to early morning shift, and Yahiko would sit with him to watch the sunset, listening to the man’s words and picturing the courtyard filled with blue and white-coated figures.

Having perfected the quickest route to the temple, Yahiko slipped away and soon found himself at his accustomed spot, listening to his favorite guard’s stories. It was their habit now, to sit and talk while the sun faded. There was no sense of hustle, bustle, or obligation, just two guys sitting and talking. It occurred to Yahiko that they didn’t even know each other’s names.

“Call me ‘Big’,” the man smiled and said when Yahiko asked his name.

“Suits you.” Yahiko told him teasingly.

Big patted his stomach and grinned. “My wife stuffs me so full of food I’m likely to get even bigger.”

It was dark now, and Yahiko knew it was time for him to head back to the Aioya. Big had to lock up and do his rounds. By now Sano would’ve taken Kenshin and Aoshi and possibly the cooks Shiro and Kuro, to the gambling district. It was safe to return.

He slipped off the engawa and got to his feet, adjusting the strap of the shinai on his chest.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Tomorrow,” the larger man agreed.

Yahiko slipped out of the temple gate and down the streets of Kyoto, smiling at his memory of a story the guard told him of Hijikata’s rage when one of the young shinsengumi recruits had discovered his stash of haiku and read them to the other recruits.

He paused by a lantern shop, watching the light dancing behind the paper spheres as the shopkeeper lit more of the candles to entice people to buy this most ancient of light sources. Shrugging his shoulders, which strained the sleeves of his too-tight yellow gi, he turned away and kept going down the street. He was wearing his old gi because Kenshin hadn’t gotten around to washing his nicer one that the little girl had besmirched. The washtubs at the Aioya were for table linens and baby diapers, and Kenshin had to wait his turn.

Yahiko wondered how Tsubame and Tae were doing without him. He still worked part time at the Akebeko. Being a kendo instructor was great, but it didn’t pay all that well. He supposed he could do like Kaoru did and make money as a guest instructor at other dojos, but he’d never see Tsubame that way. Just the thought of her sweet face made him smile.

“Gotcha, you little creep.”

Yahiko felt the strap across his chest go tight as someone grabbed his shinai from behind and used it to propel him into the mouth of an alley.

Pain exploded along his jaw as he was slammed face first against the rough plaster wall of a building, the uneven surface abrading the skin of his face.

A man’s body, bigger and tensed with rage, pressed him flat against the wall. He felt the man’s breath as he hissed his words into Yahiko’s ear.

“Who told you to do it? Who told you to ruin my life, you little punk?”

Furrowing his brow, Yahiko thought desperately, wracking his brain for a clue as to what the man was talking about. Ruin his life? Whose life? He opened his mouth to ask, all the while trying to think of a way to slip out from the man’s grasp and start fighting. He couldn’t think of a thing. He was caught by the strap of the shinai and pinned against the wall. He couldn’t move.

“I want his name!” the man hissed in a voice rough with malevolence.

Without giving Yahiko a chance to respond, he stepped back, pulled Yahiko off the wall by the shinai, then slammed him back against it.

Yahiko barely had a chance to close his eyes when his forehead hit the wall, his vision went white with pain, and he lost consciousness.

o-o-o

Kenshin staggered into the front entrance of the Aioya, Sano’s arm draped across his shoulders, with Aoshi trailing silently behind. That man could certainly hold his liquor. Sano had entered them both in a drinking contest and the rooster-headed fighter ended up decidedly worse for wear, while Aoshi’s only indication he’d been drinking was his air of intense concentration on walking.

“Sano, please try to be a little quieter,” Kenshin admonished, as the taller man stumbled, sending the both of them against the Aioya’s doorframe.

“S..s…sorry,” Sano apologized, his voice slurred with drink.

“Kenshin?”

Kenshin raised his head and saw Kaoru running lightly down the stairs, candle in hand. She was dressed in her sleeping yukata, with her hair coming out of her braid. Behind her was Misao, holding the baby against her shoulder and patting it on the back as it gurgled and burped.

“Kaoru? Why are you still up?”

He’d told her not to wait up, that Sano was taking them out for the evening, and apart from rolling her eyes and asking him to make sure Sano didn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere, she hadn’t reacted much. Since Sano returned from China there’d been several ‘Guys night out’s and when Kaoru realized that Kenshin wasn’t about to let Sano talk him into drinking more than he ought to, she’d relaxed and stopped fussing about it.

“It’s Yahiko. He’s missing! He left around dinner time and never came back.” Kaoru’s voice hitched with fear. Being around Misao’s baby was bringing out her maternal instincts. Kenshin hated it when Kaoru was afraid.

“He’s never been this late before. If only I knew where he was going!” she said, her voice cracking with concern.

Misao stopped patting the baby’s back and used her free hand to pat Kaoru on the shoulder. “Yahiko’ll be fine. He knows how to take care of himself,” she reassured her friend. “He’s probably sowing some wild oats in the Gion district.”

“He wouldn’t do that! Not when he’s got Tsubame waiting for him at home!” Kaoru sounded shocked.

“Gion district? We going out again?” slurred Sano, managing to get his feet situated so he was standing relatively upright, though he kept an arm over Kenshin’s shoulders for balance.

“Yahiko is NOT in the Gion district!” hissed Kaoru, thumping down the last few steps to end up on the landing so she could glare at Sano more effectively. “I don’t know where he’s been going.”

“I do.”

Kenshin slipped out from under Sano’s arm, turned and pushed the fighter’s torso gently against the wall, making sure he was propped up before turning back to his wife.

“Don’t worry, Kaoru. I’ll go find him.”

It hadn’t been that hard the last time Kaoru sent him off to find Yahiko. He’d been lucky, because Yahiko had made quite an impression on a little girl and her mother, and they’d been able to put him on Yahiko’s trail, which led him to a Shinto shrine with a helpful shrinekeeper who told him he’d given Yahiko directions to Nishihonganji temple.

“Do you want any help?” asked Aoshi, enunciating each word clearly and precisely with the care and concern of someone trying very hard not to slur his speech.

“No, thank you Aoshi, I will be fine on my own.” Kenshin replied, hiding a smile.

“If you change your mind, all of the Oniwaban’s intelligence sources are at your disposal!” Misao promised grandly, sweeping her arm in a dramatic gesture that got the baby crying again. “Isn’t that right, Aoshi?” she asked her husband, while trying to shush the baby at the same time.

“Hmmm,” affirmed the tall ninja.

“I’ll go find him too!” Sano offered, pushing off from the wall to stand, swaying blearily and precariously.

“That’s alright Sano, I need you to stay here in case Yahiko comes back.”

“OK Kenni, I’ll stand guard here for you. I won’t let you down!” promised Sano. Then he swayed backwards, hit the wall, and slid down it to land in an untidy heap on the floor, and began to snore.

“Go back to bed, Kaoru. I’ll bring Yahiko home, that I will.”

Blue eyes met violet ones for a moment, then Kaoru nodded, turned and made her way past Misao up the steps.

“Aoshi? Are you coming?” Misao asked.

“Yes,” said her husband simply, and stepped carefully over Sano’s outstretched legs to follow his wife upstairs.

Kenshin touched his sakabatou gently, and disappeared out the doorway and into the night. He knew where he had to go. He just hoped against hope that his past wasn’t coming back to haunt the people he cared about yet again.

o-o-o

Nishihonganji Temple was wreathed in shadows when Kenshin arrived. The gate was locked, so he vaulted the wall, perched on top of the tiled summit, then dropped, landing knees bent on the walkway on the other side. As he straightened, Shimada Kai appeared around the edge of the main building.

“Where is Yahiko?” Kenshin asked, keeping his voice steady and low, dropping the warm tone he used as a rurouni.

The security guard crossed his arms and stood, feet apart, meeting Kenshin’s gaze without flinching.

“I haven’t seen him since he left earlier this evening.”

They stared at each other, enemies from times past, and the memories of that time suddenly lay between them. Shimada was the first to break the silence.

“Do you doubt my word, Battousai?”

Kenshin searched the man’s face, and saw anger, but no guile in it. “No,” he answered softly. “I do not doubt you, Shimada Kai, and I go by Himura Kenshin now.”

Shimada grunted and rocked back on his heels. “So the kid’s gone missing, eh?”

“Yes.” Kenshin relaxed his muscles and walked up to the larger man. “He didn’t come home tonight.”

Letting him come near, the security guard kept his arms crossed and gazed down at the red haired swordsman. Kenshin was still not forgiven for doubting him.

“He’s been coming here to listen to my stories.” Shimada stated. “He usually leaves right after dark.”

The big man glanced past Kenshin towards the temple gate, as if envisioning the last time he’d seen Yahiko go through them, then he glanced back at Kenshin, the expression in his eyes a tad softer, but still challenging. “You didn’t tell him I was shinsengumi. Why?” he asked gruffly.

“I figured it was your business,” Kenshin returned mildly.

Shimada narrowed his eyes a bit, and then lowered his arms slowly. “I’ll help you find him. My shift is over in a few minutes anyway. Let’s go.”

And that was how Kenshin found himself at the side of the massive ex-shinsengumi, wending his way through the narrow streets of Kyoto. Shimada changed out of his uniform into a nondescript gi, haori coat, and hakama and led the way. Kenshin noticed that the larger man kept his holstered gun strapped to his waist. The gun and his western style shoes were the only two things that stayed with him when he changed out of his uniform and into his street clothes.

Strolling the streets of Kyoto next to Shimada was like walking beside a mountain. The early morning crowd of workers on their way to open their shops parted around them like water from a mountain stream when faced with a huge boulder. Kenshin found it refreshing to not worry about being jostled. There were perks to being large.

Shimada didn’t seem to notice. He kept his face grave as he stopped off to talk to various people along a route that meandered through the city. Noodle vendors, street sweepers, beggars, and barkeeps all told the same story. No one had seen a boy in a faded yellow gi. No one had heard of such a boy being robbed or murdered.

The last stop, a truly seedy looking inn with a drunk laying face up in the street in front, was when Shimada admitted defeat. Leaving Kenshin at the door, the big man shed his shoes and padded softly across the floor to a very fat man sitting at a low table with several unsavory characters in various states of inebriation lounging around him.

They spoke for a few minutes, then the fat man laughed briefly, his jowls shaking, but without an ounce of humor in the cold expressionless eyes stuck like dark pickled plums in his pasty-fleshed face. Then the man raised a hand sharply, dismissively, and Shimada turned around and walked quickly and heavily to the door.

“Any luck?” Kenshin asked softly, already reading the answer in Shimada’s face, tight with disappointment.

“No. And Miwaki knows every crime in this district before it happens. Whatever happened to Yahiko, the Yakuza and the petty criminals didn’t do it.”

“So what now?”

Shimada merely shook his head and began to walk away from the tavern. “I don’t know. We’ll have to look ourselves. There’s nothing else we can do.”

Kenshin sighed. Kyoto was a big city, and Yahiko was, for all intents and purposes, still a stranger to it. Kenshin’s long night was turning into a very long day as well.

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