Chapter
Two – Fires of Hell
Oh how
unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns…
- John
Milton, “
Sleep came to him at last, uneasy. The
pounding rain haunted his dreams. His dreams were dark and murky, intangible.
The bitter laughter scorched him, time and time again. And still the rain fell.
Laughter.
long and cold and bitter. ice that
burns. and the rain is
red. everything is red. everything
falls. everything
burns. he hates the rain.
the heavens and the skies
above, they are crying. crying frosty
crimson tears. to
snuff out the scarlet blaze.
and lavender ghosts
flit through halls of blinding jewels
and
white marble cages.
Blank white walls met his eyes as he
woke with a start. One hand reached instinctively for the kodachi
at his side. He sat up, his other hand brushing his bangs out of his face. He
realized belatedly that his hair and clothes had not yet dried from the
previous night.
"Awake at last, Okashira?" came Hannya's
amused voice.
He glanced outside the glass window
at the other end of the room, beyond the sleeping forms of his men. There was
nothing but gray and water.
"Dawn has not yet broken,"
said Hannya, watching his leader shrewdly.
"Aa.
You always were the earliest riser of us." Aoshi
could swear that the man was smirking beneath his white demon mask. But Hannya did not reply.
At last Aoshi
stood. He padded silently out of the room, catlike. Through the dark halls he
walked, until he reached a flight of stairs.
"What is troubling you?"
he asked at last in a subdued tone.
Hannya
laughed noiselessly behind him, shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly. "Okashira," he said. "How can I not be concerned,
when instead of sleeping, you wander around all night before finally returning
to our room, completely drenched?"
"I could not sleep."
"So you took it upon yourself
to go take a shower in the rain?"
"... It was nothing."
"So desu
ka? Then let me ask you this: Who is Takeda Kanryuu?
What business does he have with us?"
A
sneer. the white demon mask lies
fallen on the ground.
the man's face
is a grotesque, contorted gray. the face of a monster.
surprised? asks the man.
so desu ka?
continues the man when he does not answer. then let me ask you this: who is hannya? who is shinomori aoshi? man or beast?
or perhaps, demon?
tell me, or
do
you not know?
"Do not ask me questions you
already know the answers to," he replies, heaving a great sigh.
"Do I? Do you?"
"Hannya."
"Okashira.
Takeda Kanryuusai, Captain of the Fifth Troop of the Shinsengumi, was assassinated in
"Takeda is a common name."
"Hmph.
And this Kanryuu
is twice the fool Kanryuusai ever was. Still,"
said Hannya, "one cannot deny that something
feels wrong about the whole situation. Who
is Takeda Kanryuu? We do not even know his
business here. I doubt that it is what he tells us. It cannot be anything good,
if he is willing to hire even such demons as ourselves. Is that not so, Okashira?"
"It does not matter."
The masked man gave his leader a
calculating glance. Then he turned to go back.
"... I trust you, Okashira."
Do
you not trust anyone?
demands the wily old
man. they stand
there, facing each other in silence.
the rain is coming down in torrents, but neither of them notices.
aoshi. you are a prodigy.
one of the
best i have
ever seen. not only are you an excellent warrior, you have a brilliant
mind. you have talent, and i see a bright
future ahead for you... even so, you
are yet young. the oniwaban is your family. if you
cannot even trust your family... then you are not one of us.
i know it is hard,
continues
the old okashira's
best friend and
most trusted companion, more
gently. ever since yoshimune
established our
organization, the oniwaban
have been handpicked from the kii clan... and you are
but an orphan we adopted into our group
from wandering monks seven years ago.
nevertheless, you have proved your worth in these seven years. seven years,
aoshi. it is a long time.
surely
these seven years with us have taught
you something of
family and of
loyalty.
let me ask you again:
do you not trust
anyone?
i... he begins
uneasily. i trust misao, he
ends in a whisper.
in the darkness of the
rainy night, a
slight
smile graces the older spy's face.
There was a slight smug grin on Kanryuu's face when Aoshi went to
meet him, some time before noon. There was an extra chair in the room that had
not been there the day before.
"Come in, come in! Have a seat!
You slept well last night, I hope? Good. Care for some wine?" The
businessman gestured at the dark bottle on his desk. He spoke in Japanese, not
the broken English of the previous day.
Aoshi
shook his head.
"Oh, come now. Coffee?
Tea?"
"Tea will be fine."
He slipped into an awkward silence
as Kanryuu ordered the male servant who had been
standing by to fetch tea for him. When it arrived, Aoshi
took the cup into his hands, sniffing its contents out of habit before taking a
sip. Kanryuu dismissed the servant.
The rain had started up again. Aoshi listened to the rhythmic pattering as Kanryuu began to speak. It was calming. It was slowly
driving him insane. He looked down at his knees. He thought haphazardly that
the hard wooden Western armchair was strange and uncomfortable. Perhaps he was
merely unused to it. He tried not to fidget. He looked up again, only to see an
oddly sated, yet almost wistful look in Kanryuu's
eyes.
It disturbed him.
"The money," spoke Aoshi coolly, fighting to keep his calm.
The businessman's eyes narrowed
almost imperceptibly. Aoshi gripped the fabric of his
pants, only semiconscious of the act. His right hand inched slightly towards
the sheathed kodachi at his side.
"Ah, yes! How could I
forget?" continued Kanryuu as if nothing had
happened. "What do you say to--"
"Monthly payments.
Three-quarters in the gaijin's money. The rest for my
men and I to use in the markets."
"... Ah-ahh...
So desu ne," stammered
Kanryuu. "That..."
"It should be fine, should it
not?"
"Ah... ah... It will be
fine."
"Good. Now if that is
all--" Aoshi stood.
"Iya!"
The businessman jumped up. "Chotto matte yo--" Then, more calmly, in English, "No, not
yet. Remember -- ah... when I spoke of other, more delicate matters I would
like you to take care of, besides acting as my personal spies and
bodyguards...?"
Aoshi
stared impassively at the bespectacled man.
"There... is someone I would
like you to meet..." Kanryuu continued, slyly,
once again in Japanese. "Megumi-chan! You may
come in, now!"
It took all his years of training to
keep from making any movement as she stalked delicately into the room from a
door hidden behind a curtain hanging by the oil painting. It was the woman from
the previous night. The woman of the rain. There was a storm brewing within the
depths of her dark brown eyes. Aoshi wondered, idly,
why he had not noticed the door before.
"I believe I told you never to
refer to me as Megumi-chan
again," the woman hissed scathingly.
"My pet," crooned Kanryuu in English, ignoring her, then switched back to
Japanese. "This is Shinomori Aoshi.
He shall be working for me from now on... in order to ensure that everything
runs smoothly with my... business.
And ah, my dear Aoshi, this is Takani
Megumi. I shall be trusting you to watch over her from now on... she is quite a
valuable asset to me... and I should be terribly displeased should anything
happen to her..."
Kanryuu
glanced at him expectantly. Aoshi inclined his head
slightly, then turned and bowed stiffly to the woman.
"Yoroshiku,"
he muttered. The woman bowed in turn.
Aoshi
barely caught her fierce, mocking whisper as she straightened up once more.
"So not his crony, but his dog..."
He felt something burning from deep
within him. His hand grabbed at the blade by his side. Neither the businessman
nor the woman noticed.
Kanryuu
beamed, flashing rows of shiny white teeth.
"Very good, Megumi-chan. You may return to your work now."
The room felt strangely empty as she
left, ephemeral as the autumn wind, her long black hair tossing behind her like
a final fleeting cascade of rain.
Or, perhaps, like fire, burning
everything in its path, leaving only the ashes of memory that littered a
shadowy void.
Her
long black braid
swings wildly behind
her as he watches her
race away. she turns
after a few steps, grinning happily at
him. her smile is like a ray of sunlight, bright and
warm in the chilly air. the vision
fades away as she continues to run, far into the distance, a gray veil of
cascading rain
obscuring her at last.
he feels a fire slowly eating away at
his
heart, leaving nothing but an immense,
empty sorrow.
for her. everything is for her now. the
light of the new era. the promise of the
future. there is nothing left for him
here.
he will be gone,
come
spring.
