Part Five: Entrapment
Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet
He's the big affair I cannot forget
Only man I ever think of with regretTwo disparate shadows moved through the secluded forest northeast of Matsue castle, slipping between trees and around fallen logs with the fleetness of deer and the silent tread of predators on the hunt. Their passing was naught but a ripple in the dark, unmarked by the rustle of leaves or the swaying of branches. Pausing on the verge of a lane strewn with moon-silvered stepping stones, they lingered there in the gathered shadows, waiting.
Moments later they were joined by a third, a slim figure who approached so quietly that he seemed to coalesce out of the night. Dropping to one knee before the taller of the waiting shadows, he uttered a low, respectful greeting, "Okashira."
Arms folded across his chest, back pressed casually against the ancient trunk behind him, Aoshi nodded in return, "Toshikage."
"You made good time," the other observed, his smile invisible in the darkness although apparent in his tone. Rising to his feet, he inclined his head in brief greeting to Misao.
"Ariga Rennyo proved himself more open to persuasion than we expected." Aoshi's voice was bland, almost disinterested.
Misao snorted. "He means Rennyo is smart enough, dirty enough, and prudent enough to avoid crossing an Oniwabanshuu spy with connections to one of the most renowned police officers in Japan."
Taking her comment in stride, Aoshi indicated the teahouse at the end of the lane with a jerk of his chin. "Is he inside?"
"Aa. The bastard arrived about ten minutes before you." Toshikage was abruptly all business, a scout reporting on the enemy camp. "He's almost been waiting long enough to start getting edgy."
Aoshi's mouth twisted into a coldly feral smile. "Perfect." Reaching inside his tunic, he withdrew a small sheet of paper, neatly folded to serve as both message and envelope. "Have one of the geisha deliver this," he instructed, handing the missive to Toshikage, "then wait and signal us if Uratsuji is nervous enough to exit out the back."
"Yes, okashira." With another low bow, Toshikage faded into the surroundings again, the only clue to his departure the deeper silence filling the space left by his absence.
Settling calmly against the old pine tree once more, Aoshi turned his head to observe his remaining companion, trying to judge her readiness for the coming confrontation. Attempting to obtain more than a year's learning in a mere five days should have been an impossibility, one he'd only been willing to wager on out of necessity, counting on Misao's skill, instincts, and determination to afford them success. As he'd expected, she'd proven herself an apt pupil, absorbing the tenets of taijutsu as rapidly as over-dry soil swallowed spring rain. Now all that remained was to test her newfound strength against an opponent who fought out of hate and desperation, rather than one such as himself - shackled by his own emotions, his need to keep her from harm.
Sensing his perusal, Misao tossed him a cocky grin as she began to roll one of her kunai back and forth over her knuckles. "It'll be all right, okashira!" she assured him in a voice enthusiastically feral, the small dart flying from her fingers to embed itself in the thick trunk of their sheltering tree, even as another seemed to appear out of thin air to take it's place dancing across the back of her hand. "I'm ready for him this time."
Drawing a deep breath and letting it sigh softly between his lips, Aoshi resigned himself to wait and see.
Kanden-an's main room was sparsely lit and draped in shadow, creating a semblance of privacy for its patrons even when crowded. On a busy evening, Uratsuji might have found comfort in that illusion, secure enough in the teahouse's population to be at ease with the impenetrable corners. Not so tonight; the young women serving tea and sake were paid to be discreet, and the present patronage could be counted on the fingers of one hand, men too reclusive to witness any altercation, no matter how violent. Nervous after too much time in hiding, he silently cursed himself for his choice of meeting location, the peace and quiet serving only to make him even more edgy and suspicious.
"Excuse me, sir," a soft, pleasant voice murmured at his shoulder, rousing him from his sour thoughts, "this message just arrived for you." Bowing slightly at the waist, one dainty hand holding the painted silk of her trailing sleeves away from his table, the geisha offered him a folded sheet of parchment. He accepted it automatically, his mouth suddenly too dry to mumble his thanks before she withdrew.
The sheet bore only a single sentence, rendered in a strong, bold hand: A traitor has nothing to offer but treason.
Uratsuji stared blankly at the black ink on the paper before him, the stark wording settling like lead in the pit of his stomach. Rennyo wasn't coming. There would be no meeting.
It had only been a matter of time before Rennyo's agents discovered the details of his less-than-honorable past. He had hoped to ingratiate himself with the businessman before that, so the combination of his talents and Rennyo's own illegal activities would cement their partnership.
"You must be loyal to someone besides yourself, Ura-kun," Sunaga Kiwako's voice echoed in his memory, "trust is more important in our line of business than in any other." When she'd uttered those words he'd smiled, murmuring agreement, inwardly seething at the condescension in her tone. Never would he have expected the truth in them to weigh so heavily upon him now -- fleeing Sunaga's mansion rather than face Himura Battousai, he'd branded himself twice a traitor. The wealthy members of Japan's criminal society would offer him no more refuge than the Oniwabanshuu. Rennyo's message made that clear.
Nor would the businessman extend him the courtesy of silence.
The realization crept over him slowly, as his green tea cooled from tepid to near ice. In certain circles, Rennyo could buy friendship and respectability with information on Uratsuji's whereabouts. Information was a viable currency, one in which Shinomori and that damned ex-shinsengumi cop had extensive dealings.
Suddenly, the shadows he watched so nervously seemed more substantial: he'd been there too long, an easy target if Rennyo had let others know about their proposed meeting. It was time to move, even if he had nowhere to go.
Maintaining an air of calm as he paid his bill and rose to his feet, he let his mind race over possible solutions to his predicament. Friendless, with no more favors he could call in, it took more time to cross to the door than to accept that he had only one option. Masuaki -- that chubby little schemer -- would have the same unsavory reputation as himself, the same need for someone to watch his back. Uratsuji's mouth twisted in distaste at the unlikely partnership. Still, at least it was better than waiting for Shinomori's spies to find him.
Sliding the door closed behind him, he paused under the eaves to allow his vision to adjust to the faint light filtering through the trees. For a moment, the shadowed lane loomed before him -- a tunnel into an uncertain future, the gloom as solid as stone. Gradually his eyes compensated, allowing him to discern the bulk of tree trunks from the background shadows, the comparative brightness of puddled moonlight. Summoning his absent confidence, he started along the stepping-stones, unconsciously palming the handle of the tonfa tucked in his belt. The nervousness he'd felt inside Kanden-an was swelling, tension tingling along his spine and making him sweat. Inside, he might have found himself cornered, but at least he would have had the luxury of seeing the attack coming, could have placed solid stone at his back as he fought. Out here... although he was ninja, and the darkness his friend, his ally... it would not hinder those he feared.
A night bird sounded a warning to its prey, and he started at the taunting cry. Scant seconds later he stumbled to a halt, faltering as his trained ear automatically identified the variety and tone, translating the call into Oniwabanshuu code: carrion approaches -- the traitor walks into the trap.
"The signals have changed now, of course," a deep voice carried smoothly through the darkness, focusing Uratsuji's attention on the shadows crowded beneath a stately pine to the left of the lane, "but its been more than ten years since that one saw any use. Only you and I remember what it meant during the Bakumatsu."
"Shinomori." Intending to spit the hate-laced word at the Oniwabanshuu leader, Uratsuji's voice faltered as his nerves betrayed him, the name issuing as a suspicious hiss.
"Uratsuji," came the cool response. "Quite a pleasant little retreat you've found -- outside the Oniwabanshuu's normal sphere of influence, minimal police presence." Aoshi's shadowed gesture seemed to include all of Matsue and the neighboring surrounds in his assessment. "How unfortunate that you've already worn out your welcome."
Fear and resentment boiled in Uratsuji's gut, anger growled a name. "Rennyo."
"Told us nothing we did not already know. He, on the other hand, was much enlightened by our conversation."
"We?" Had Shinomori brought the damn cop with him? Uratsuji fought for control of his voice and facial expression, reaching for the courage to manage a taunting tone. "The all-powerful okashira thought it necessary to bring backup to deal with one renegade?"
"Backup?" Shinomori returned lightly, almost mockingly. "There is no backup. One of us is here in a strictly official capacity."
Official capacity? The ex-shinsengumi is with him!
"Yes," Aoshi responded, reading the panic on Uratsuji's face with ease despite the night and the distance between them. "My partner is the one you need to worry about. I'm just..." he paused, white teeth flashing briefly in the moonlight, "the referee."
Confused and uncomprehending, searching the gathered darkness for Saitou's tall, lanky frame, Uratsuji's gaze jerked suddenly upwards as Misao's challenge rang out from the canopy above.
Explanation of Japanese names:
- Uratsuji is a surname, written with the kanji "reverse" and "crossing".
- Ariga is written with the kanji "possess" and "selfish". Rennyo is written with the kanji "beguile".
Author's notes:
- This one's for Sariah, Dark Phoenix, Tin Mandigma, and Ashfae. I hope you enjoyed it, ladies!
Komagata Yumi
yumi@sekihara.dreamhost.com
March 26, 2003