Shelter From the Storm

This is the last time I ever let an informant talk me into meeting him in the middle of nowhere… assuming I’m alive for a next time. Katsuhiro Tsukioka clutched his haori closer around himself, not that it did any good. Bastard’s most likely in a nice warm teahouse, with a nice warm girl and a bottle of nice warm sake, on the money he got for setting me up. Me, I’m gonna freeze to death in this forsaken hell-hole.

No food, no firewood, not even a lousy blanket in this lousy hovel, and he wasn’t about to walk back to Tokyo in a sleet storm. It had been a nice day when he set out, but now… even being out of the wind wasn’t much of a blessing, not when the cold ate through his clothing and straight into his bones. It wasn’t even completely dark yet. There was all the long winter night to get through, the night and the seductive danger of sleep. You sleep in cold like this, you don’t wake up. He could still hear the old man’s voice: Torata, the hunter from Aomori, oldest man in the Sekihoutai, who had taught a city boy how to live off the country and survive without shelter. His woodcraft hadn’t been enough to save him, though, he’d fallen at Shimosuwa like all the others, all but him and Sano and now Sano’d been hounded out of Japan by that Ishin bastard Tani…

There was a noise outside, a bumping as though someone were trying to get in. Soyama? Che, it’s about time! Muttering curses, he got up to open the door.

Oh, whatever made me decide to try to get home instead of spending the night with Akemi-san? Tae Sekihara tried to get a better grip on the large, awkward bundle. What would it have cost me, just to meet the man? The sleet-laden wind stung her skin, bound her wet kimono around her legs and tried to tear the parcel from her hands. I’ve got to find some shelter… is that a house? She could barely see through the freezing rain, a darker patch against the forest, too square to be trees or bushes.

“Hello?” she called out. “Is anyone home? Please, I’m caught out in the storm, I need shelter.” There was no answer, only a fresh gust of wind and more sleet. She felt her way around to what must be the door, but it was stuck and her numb hands wouldn’t work enough to open it.

Without any warning, the door opened and she half-fell inside, stumbled against something – someone. “Onegai… help me… I'm so cold…”

It wasn’t Soyama, that was for sure. It was a woman with a huge bundle, soaking wet and on the point of collapse. He half-led, half-carried her over to the corner where he’d been sittting. “It’s less drafty over here. I’m sorry, I don’t have a fire or a blanket to share with you, or even any food…”

“So cold… I can't…” She was bent over the bundle, not making a move to let it go or remove her sodden garments.

“Come on, miss, you’ve got to get out of those wet things or you’ll freeze. Do you have extra clothes in there?” The bundle had the soft, resilient feel of wadded cloth.

“My hands… won't move…” They hurt now, the pain was nearly making her sick and she was so cold, so cold…

“Let me help you.” Gently he tugged the knotted furoshiki out of her hands. It wasn’t clothing, it was all one big piece… a quilt? It was a bit damp on the outside where the rain had soaked through the wrapping, but the inside was dry, and the thick padding was more than enough to keep a person warm. Two people warm, if they huddled close.

Get inside a blanket with a buddy, had been old Torata’s advice. And strip so your warmth can get to each other. Skin to skin’s best.

That’ll be weird, with a woman… but her hanten and kimono were soaked, and the wet would pull heat out of her the way a lamp wick pulled oil. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But you really do need to take those off. Do you need help?”

She shrugged clumsily out of the hanten, but undoing her obi proved beyond her. It took him several minutes to figure out the complicated ties, but eventually he had her out of the wet fabric. Hastily he draped the quilt over her, then stripped to his own underkimono and fundoshi. That should be enough… I hope it’s not too much. Women could be so idiotic about things like this sometimes… There was a sound when he dropped his kimono, the noise of something heavy hitting the floorboards, something he’d stuck in his sleeve… He looked to see what it was. A little flask, given to him by a correspondent for a European newspaper, in thanks for showing him a few things the government would rather foreigners not see… I forgot I had that…

“Here, have some of this. It should make you feel warmer.”

Tae nearly choked. Her mouth was full of something that tasted like kanzou – she swallowed, and the cloying taste grabbed at the back of her throat and made her eyes water. “Ara!” she gasped. It burned going down, and lit a fire in her middle that was almost as strong as the sickening agony in her hands and feet. It burned away the frozen fog around her wits; she could move, and talk, and notice things. Like the fact that she was only wearing her thin cotton undergarment. Like the fact that a man’s solid, muscular body was pressed against her back, his arms were around her, and he didn’t feel like he was wearing much either. Like the fact that the two of them were bundled up in Akemi-san’s quilt. Like the fact that she knew his voice…

“Tsukioka-san?”

“You know me… wait a minute! Sekihara-san, right? Sano’s friend from the gyuu-nabe place?”

“Ha… hai…”

It was warmer in his arms. Her feet were still blocks of aching ice, but the pain in her hands was fading to a bearable sensitivity, and the rest of her began to relax in the shared heat of their bodies. He took a drink from the flask; the gaijin liquor was stronger than the sake he was used to and the taste made him shudder, but it did make him feel warmer. “Here, it’s easier the second time.”

It grabbed at her throat just as badly – I hate kanzou – but didn’t feel quite as much like she was swallowing fire. “Oh, gomen nasai, that was all of it.”

“That’s all right, you need it more than I do. Here, your hair’s dripping. Do you want to take it down?” She nodded. “Better let me, then you won’t have to let the cold in.” It was only their closeness that allowed the quilt to go completely around both of them; the least movement would let icy air invade their snug sanctuary. Carefully he brought his hands up and pulled out the pins; damp silk tumbled over his hands and her shoulders. It smelled sharp and clean, not like the grease many women still used in their hair, and he put his arms around her again for lack of a better place to put them, with his face buried in her soft hair. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in a very long time, in too long…

“Gaijin must be mad to make sake that tastes like kanzou,” she said. She felt odd, disconnected from her body. If I move I’ll be dizzy… Tsukioka-san was so warm… and there was a softness to him. He smelled like a fresh nishiki-e, and a little bit like fireworks. It felt nice, being held. No one’s held me like this… since Masahiro… and that was strange too, that she could think about Masahiro without beginning to cry.

He laughed. ”They call it aku-something. Aku-ba-bi-to.”

“Hontou ni? Aku?”

“It means something different in their language, something like inochi no mizu.”

“Inochi no… mizu?” That was a funny name for something like that… but it almost had brought her back to life. She wasn”t cold any more, she felt like she was floating. She rested his hands on his. To her cold-sensitized touch, his hands were warm and smooth, softer than the hands of most of the men she knew. She wondered if the rest of his skin was soft too. “Thank you, Tsukioka-san. I would have frozen if you hadn’t been here.”

Another soft laugh, a breath on her neck, a vibration in his body. “It’s kind of silly being so formal. My friends call me Katsu.”

He was right, it was silly. To be in a man’s arms, ri from anywhere, practically naked… “My name is Tae,” she replied.

“So, Tae-san. What are you doing out in a sleet storm so far from Asakusa anyway?”

She was silent for a little while. “I went to see an old family friend. Akemi-san used to work at my family’s restaurant in Kyoto and after my mother died she practically raised my sister and me. I should have stayed, but…”

“It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me.”

“No, it’s just silly. She thinks I ought to be married, and she had someone for me to meet.”

“And you didn’t want to? You don’t want to marry?” He didn’t know Tae’s exact age, but she was some years older than Sano. It was unusual for a woman in her twenties to be unattached, doubly so when the woman was as good-looking as Tae, with a prosperous business and no brothers.

“I… I was engaged once.” Always before, when she tried to talk about Masahiro, her throat would get so tight she couldn’t talk. “His family were sake-brewers. We’d known each other since we were children.”

“Your families arranged the marriage?

“We’d always simply assumed we’d marry. Then the war came. Masahiro believed so much in freedom and equality… so of course he went to fight.”

“He was killed?”

“At Tobafushimi. Afterwards – I worked hard helping my father establish the Akabeko, trying to forget… and by the time I looked around and thought about something besides the work, the only men who wanted me were either fortune-hunters who wanted the business, or widowers looking for a stepmother for their children. My father ran the fortune-hunters off, and neither of us had much use for the widowers.”

“Aa.”

“Besides, if I married then the business would belong to my husband. I… I don’t want that. Why do I have to give up what I worked so hard to help build, just because I’m a woman? It isn’t fair!”

“Tae-san…” Obsessed as he was with the corruption of government officials, especially those of Ishin Shishi background, he had given little thought to the problems faced by women. With all the men who had died in the warfare of the past decade, it made sense there would be many who could not find husbands. It might become even more of a problem if the new government kept up its insistence on enacting samurai custom into law, rather than even considering the practices of peasants and townsfolk. Just another way those Ishin bastards are screwing the common people…

“…Katsu-san?”

“Huh?” She’d said something while he was woolgathering. “Suman, did you say something?”

“I told you why I’m out here. But what brings you out so far in a storm?”

“I was lured out here,” he explained. “I was supposed to meet a man with information to sell – information that could bring down a highly-placed member of the War Department.”

“Masaka…”

“Ordinarily I would have been more careful. I would have brought someone with me, or insisted on a meeting in a less isolated place. But the man he had information on is someone who did a very great wrong to a friend of mine, and I want him very, very badly. So, I took a chance – and it was nearly fatal.”

She was silent for a moment. “That man… is he the one who tried to have Sanosuke arrested, so he had to leave the country?”

“Aa. I’ve been trying since fall to find something I can use, but no matter what nastiness he’s involved with, none of it sticks to him. He’s tried to control other villages besides Sano’s, the working conditions in his silk mills are terrible – but he always stays inside the law so nothing can touch him. But the information I came out here to buy would have tied him to the rebel group that tried to attack the foreign ambassadors last fall.”

“Why would he have been involved with something like that?”

Katsu shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s a gaijin-hater; a lot of Ishin Shishi were. Maybe he’s nervous about losing his job; there's a rumor that Yamagata wants to kick all the civilians out of the War Department. Or maybe that traitorous sonofabitch Tamono promised him a promotion.” He made a rude noise. “The likeliest is that it’s not true at all. It’s no secret that I want the bastard, so somebody dangled a piece of bait in front of me and I snapped it up like a stupid fish. If you hadn’t happened along…”

“If you hadn’t been here I would have frozen anyway,” she replied.

“Anyway, we should probably try to get some sleep. No telling what the road will be like in the morning.”

“Mm,” she agreed, and closed her eyes. I don’t think I can sleep, she thought. He feels so… I wish he’d say something, touch me, kiss me… I hope he doesn't think I’m too forward or anything… as excited and apprehensive as she felt, the combination of warmth, alcohol, and exhaustion pulled her into a confused dream of being embraced by a man who was sometimes Masahiro and sometimes Katsu…

Katsu shifted position a little, hoping Tae wouldn’t notice the effect her nearness was having on him. It had indeed been a long time since he’d been this close to any woman, let alone one as intelligent and attractive as Tae. “Why do I have to give up what I worked so hard to help build, just because I'm a woman?” This was a woman who thought about things, who valued her independence – otherwise she would have been married long ago. “That man… is he the one who tried to have Sanosuke arrested, so he had to leave the country?” A woman who could figure things out without having everything spelled out for her. A woman he could talk with…

He actually did prefer women, surprising as that might be to some of his acquaintances. But what he really desired in a partner was wit, intelligence, a certain… spirit. Women who possessed such qualities were few and far between, and in the Floating World they were expensive. Far beyond the reach of his purse, at any rate. The few girls who hung about the fringes of the radical movement were either brainless decorative fluff belonging to the more charismatic student leaders, or strident man-haters as homely as they were bitter. There remained the boys who haunted the newspaper office, drawn by the glamor of a former Sekihoutai, a real revolutionary who had actually fought and knew how to blow things up – some of them made no secret of their interest and availability, and from time to time he would take one up on his offer. But such unions were nearly as unsatisfactory as the paid companionship of a cheap jorou. He didn’t want a hero-worshipper, he wanted a partner. He’d always thought it an impossible dream that a partner could be a woman…

He wondered if Tae’s softly rounded body contained passion to match her spirit and intelligence.

You’re a damn fool, Katsuhiro Tsukioka, he told himself, but still it was a long time before he managed to fall asleep.

Someone had a pounding headache. It was really annoying, and she wanted to tell them to stop it because it was waking her up. Then there was a crash and a man’s voice, swearing, and she snapped awake. Oww. The pounding head was her own. She was lying on the floor of a bare little room, wrapped in the quilt Akemi had given her. The swearing was coming from a man who was apparently trying to get into his hakama without touching either it or the floor. Tsukioka-san… and his aku…

“Aa, Tae-san. Did I wake you up? Suman… I’m afraid our things didn’t get very dry.” He handed her the damp kimono and tabi, and opened the door to go outside while she dressed. Brilliant sun streamed across her and stabbed into her eyes. She winced away from it.

Baka yarou, Katsu growled to himself. Giving her that aku tiger-piss. He had a slight hangover himself. Gaijin are crazy to drink this stuff. He wondered if this kami-forsaken hovel had such a thing as a privy anywhere about. Lack of one didn’t bother him much, but it would be hard on the woman, who was probably miserable enough.

“Hold it right there!” a voice barked. Involuntarily he froze. At least ten officers with drawn sabers, all wearing the uniform of the Imperial police. And leading them, a tall, thin man with a katana in his gloved hand, who sneered at him the way a wolf sneers at prey.

Hajime Saitou! What in the world… Aloud he asked “What seems to be the trouble, officers?”

“Katsuhiro Tsukioka, you’re under arrest for the murder of Riichi Soyama.”

Tae finished dressing, as well as she could. Not only was her kimono unpleasantly wet and cold, but the obi’s damp folds were hard to tie. She finally got it done, but it was sloppy and she hoped it wouldn’t come undone by itself. Her hair was hopeless; she had neither comb nor mirror so she simply left it undone. She bundled the quilt back into its furoshiki and tied it up, then stepped outside.

Tsukioka-san wasn’t alone, there were a lot of… policemen? “Tsukioka-san? Doushita?”

Nani? There wasn’t much that surprised Saitou, but the tip he’d received hadn’t mentioned a woman. She didn’t look like a jorou, in spite of her disheveled appearance. Her rumpled kimono was too plain, and the badly-tied obi strictly utilitarian and fastened more or less in back. There was something vaguely familiar about her as well.

“You! Woman! Give us your name and tell us what you’re doing here!” one of the officers demanded.

“Ara? Tae… Tae Sekihara… I was caught in the storm and sought shelter… Tsukioka-san was already here.”

“Liar! You’re this man’s lover and his accomplice in murder!” He raised his saber, intending to strike her with the hilt.

“Hold on, Kageyama-kun,” Saitou stepped forward. “Tae Sekihara-san. Your family owns the Akebeko gyuu-nabe restaurant?”

“Hai… Fujita-san? I remember you… from when the Akabeko was blown up.”

“Naruhodo. You say you were caught in the storm?”

“Yes. Back that way, over the next hill, there is a village called Matsumura. I was visiting an old woman called Akemi, who used to work for my family. But I left to come home, and was caught in the storm.”

“We’ll check your story, of course.”

“Yes. Before I left, she gave me this.” She indicated her bundle.

“And Tsukioka was already in the hut when you arrived?”

“Yes. He told me he had arranged to meet someone, but the man never appeared.”

“Obviously she’s lying to protect her lover!” the other officer exclaimed.

“Kageyama-kun…” Saitou turned back to Tae. “I must ask… is Tsukioka your lover?”

Tae took a step back. “Ma-masaka!“ She dropped her bundle and waved her hands back and forth in denial. Her face was scarlet.

“Chotto!” Katsu exclaimed. “I’m willing to answer your questions as well as I can, but Sekihara-san has nothing to do with this. Please leave her out of it… Fujita-san.” He spoke the name with a slight emphasis. I know who you really are, Hajime Saitou, captain of the Third Troop of the Shinsengumi. Do your men? Do your superiors?

“Taichou, there’s nothing in the hut,” one of the officers reported. “No food, no sign of a fire.”

“The woman’s bundle has a quilt in it, nothing more,” another man added.

“Naruhodo.” Saitou took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the clear morning air. “Let them go.”

“But Taichou!”

“You heard me. The evidence supports their story.” He turned to Katsu. “Tsukioka-san, someone has gone to a great deal of trouble to make you look like a murderer. Fortunately for you, their little scheme fell apart when Sekihara-san walked into it. Have you annoyed anyone in power lately?”

“Hn.” Katsu gave a faint, scornful smile. “It’s my job to annoy those in power.”

The policeman exhaled another long, thin stream of smoke. “Someone with a great deal of power is very seriously annoyed. They may well try again, and more directly next time. You can’t think of anyone who may be… more annoyed than others?”

It was Tani, I know it was Tani, I can smell his oily stink all over this business… but I can’t prove it yet and I won’t let the government fight my battles! “I’m sorry, I have no scent to give you,” he said with an edge to his voice. You’ve turned into a dog for the Ishin Shishi, Hajime Saitou, and you’ll get no scraps from me.

Saitou’s eyes narrowed. “Or they may become annoyed with Sekihara-san for foiling their scheme.”

Kono yarou… but I still can’t give in! Chikusho, I wish Sano were still here!

“Your job is to annoy those in power… and mine is to destroy the parasites who use power for their own selfish gain,” Saitou went on. “Aku. Soku. Zan. Even in this Meiji era, there is still a need for wolves.” He turned to Tae. “Sekihara-san, it seems you have a gift for making dangerous friends. Take care.” He led his men away.

“Ara…” Tae stared after them. “I thought they were going to arrest us both.” She picked up her bundle and looked at Katsu as though inviting him to walk back to town with her.

“They might have. Another officer might have simply assumed that we were lovers and accomplices, like that one did – I wonder if he used to be with the Sword-Bearing unit that was disbanded last spring – but Fujita is one who can look past appearances and see the truth. He usually works on very important cases involving direct threats to the government; I wonder what he’s doing investigating the death of a small-time loser like Soyama.” He moved to one side of the path and slowed for her to catch up, side by side would make for easier conversation.

Tae thought for a moment. “Maybe this Soyama was selling information about other people too?”

“That is very likely. Such people seldom stop at a single victim. But… I don’t think that’s why he was killed. Fujita was right. Whoever is behind this was not only trying to have me eliminated, but discredited. That was actually a very clever idea.”

“If you were a murderer, no one would take your charges seriously?”

“Aa. I’ve done enough stupid things in my life that no one would think twice if I was arrested – even Kenshin would probably take the story at face value. And then, of course, I’d conveniently die in prison before my case could be heard. Poor old Katsu the crazy radical… I wonder if that’s it…”

“Is Tani-san… afraid of Kenshin?” Tae asked. It seemed reasonable – though it had come as a shock to her, finding out that the gentle, inoffensive rurouni who uncomplainingly scrubbed clothes, carried groceries, and let Kaoru belabor him with her shinai was the same man who had turned the Kyoto of her girlhood into a nightmare of raining blood.

“Almost certainly – though not for the reason you might think. It isn’t Kenshin’s sword Tani fears, it’s his friends.”

“His friends?”

“A man like Tani lives in a world of debts and exchanged favors. He would be as aware of the debts owed by his superiors as… as you are of the price of beef.”

Tae nodded, slowly. “One of his superiors owes favors to Kenshin?”

“Indeed, no less a superior than Aritomo Yamagata himself… and possibly Itou, the new Interior Minister, as well, since he’s a Choushuu man – there was the Kyoto business too. Men at the highest levels of government, men who have the Emperor’s ear – oh, Tani would fear that, all right. Whatever he’s up to, an investigation could make big trouble for him.”

“So… he tried to use the police to eliminate both threats at once?”

“That’s what it looks like. Clever, isn’t it?” Suddenly a thought struck Katsu and he burst out laughing. Tae stared at him as though he’d gone mad. “Mr. oh-so-clever Tani, clever enough to dig his own grave! Ha ha ha! Trying to avoid Kenshin – who was never a threat, if he were going to call in any favors he would have done it back when Sano left – he's run straight into…”

“Into what? The police? But if he’s that powerful, won’t he just order them not to investigate?”

“That might keep off most of the force, but it won’t work with Sai… with Fujita. Money and power don’t mean anything to him. He’s as relentless as a wolf, and absolutely loyal to his own brand of justice. And now he knows someone tried to use him… it won’t be long before he’s sniffing at Tani.”

Tae frowned. “But isn’t that what you want?”

“Iie. The government doesn’t want embarrassment, so they’ll let Fujita kill Tani out of hand and hush the whole matter up. They’ve done it before. I want to bring him down publicly. I want the people to know what kind of men their so-called leaders are! And I want Sano vindicated so that he can come back – if he ever wants to.”

She had to smile at that. Somehow she had a feeling the tall gangster was finding his involuntary trip less of an exile than an adventure. “Sometimes,” she confided, “sometimes when I see the foreign ships in the bay, I wonder what it would be like to go…”

“Not so different from the way it is here, from what the foreign writers say. Big fish eating little fish, everywhere you go…”

“Not everywhere, surely.”

“Pretty much. The politicians and the big businessmen have it all their own way, and the ordinary people get eaten.”

“But there are good people too – like Kenshin, and Sano… and you…”

He sighed. “Most of the time it doesn't seem like it’s enough. But you’re right. As long as there are people like you… you’ve saved my life twice over.”

She waved her hand in front of her face, now pink with embarrassment. “I didn’t do anything…”

He caught the waving hand. “Tae-san… I know you value your independence, and I won’t put any demands on you. But… if you want… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble… would you cook something for me sometime?”

Her eyes widened at his boldness. “Ka… Katsu-san…” she stammered.

“Only if you want to,” he added hastily, dropping her hand and taking a step back. He didn’t look where he was going, stepped on a patch of ice, and sat down hard.

She extended a hand and helped him up. “You’re not hurt, are you?” Her hand was roughened by work and gripped his as firmly as a man’s.

“Only my dignity,” he replied, with a rueful rub at his backside.

He’s so different from Masahiro… but kind of like him too, the way he cares about ordinary people and believes in equality and freedom… “I’d like to do that, Katsu-san,” she replied. “But only if… I don’t know what I can do, but I… I want to help.”

“Help?”

“With your… with what you’re doing about Tani-san. After all, his trap almost caught me too…”

NOTES, EXPLANATIONS ETC.

I’ve felt all along that Tae was a prime candidate for developing radical sympathies. She is intelligent, runs a successful business, hears a lot of political discussion – and lives in a society where she is being systematically stripped of her rights because she is a woman. We are still nearly 20 years from the Meiji Constitution, but from the beginning the leaders discounted the more egalitarian customs of peasants and townsfolk and based their social policy on the practices of the samurai. Women had no independent legal existence – of course, they had similarly low status in Europe and America as well. At any rate, she and Katsu seem to me like a natural couple, and her practical common sense will be as good for him as his idealism is for her.

In the manga (Jin’eh arc), Tani calls himself “the best man in the War Department.” That puts him directly under Yamagata, who owes Kenshin many favors – an awkward position for a schemer who has wronged one of Kenshin’s friends. It also may be awkward for Tani being a civilian – this is probably a little early, but Yamagata did pursue a policy of insulating the military from civilian control – apparently out of a sincere concern that the military not be used as the arm of any political faction. It got them in trouble later…

Hirobumi Itou became Interior Minister after Oukubo’s assassination. He had a long and successful political career, though as Prime Minister his government was known for frivolity.

Tae will cook that dinner for Katsu, and lemon will most likely be on the menu.

The stuff in Katsu’s flask is akvavit. One day some helpful kami whispered in my ear that if I tried routing the word through katakana I’d get aku, and I couldn’t resist the pun. Kanzou is licorice, which is what akvavit tastes like – really aku!

Riichi Soyama: Katsu’s dead informant’s name is legitimate, but I write it with odd kanji. Ri means to take advantage, but I use an alternate reading of ura, meaning back or reverse (the same as uragiru, which literally means backstab). Soyama is a genuine family name, but I write it with the kanji for nezumi, rat. In other words, the unlamented Mr. Soyama was an expendable loser who’d sell his grandmother for a few sen.

A jorou is a prostitute – the ordinary cheap sort.