Understanding - Part 1

Katsushiro gripped the hilt of his katana in white-knuckled fingers. The solid wood of the fence at his back made him feel a little better; at least his attackers couldn't get at him from behind. There were four of them, ranging before in him the alley, leering at him in the ugliest way imaginable. Three had swords drawn, though they were of the cheap, mass-produced variety, with straight blades rather than the gentle curve of the katana. The fourth had a gun, still tucked into his waistband, but easily accessible.

Katsushiro hadn't yet drawn his own sword. He was still hoping he could get out of this without bloodshed. These weren't samurai, unless they were the lowest sort of samurai he'd ever seen. And he'd seen some pretty low ones. He cursed himself again for not paying proper attention to his surroundings and letting these scum corner him like this. All he'd wanted was a brief walk to get some fresh air! It was just a tiny city, more like a very large village, and the last thing he'd been expecting was trouble. They weren't even bandits!

"Do you have any idea who you're assaulting?" he asked stiffly, praying he could get them to back down. There weren't many among the common people who would be willing to face a true samurai in battle, even one as young and inexperienced as Katsushiro. "I am a samurai. Let me pass, and I'll leave you in peace!"

The one with the gun - Katsushiro suspected he was the leader of the group - laughed in his face. "Oi, kouzou," he spat at the young samurai's feet. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? The Kantei Group owns this town. This is our territory... and we don't like samurai."

Kantei Group? Katsushiro blinked, then realization dawned. They're Yakuza! I didn't think Yakuza even still existed... Shifting, he settled his stance a bit more, drawing the first inch of his blade. "There's no need for bloodshed here. I'm just passing through, staying at the inn for a night before I move on. Leave me be!"

"Leave me be," the leader mocked him mercilessly, pitching his voice high and whiny like a little child's. "Listen to the brat! You going to go crying for your mommy if we don't play fair, kouzou? You think we're scared of an unblooded little baby like you? You don't have the guts to be a samurai. You're just a little boy playing dress-up."

The words stung, as he'd meant them to. The wounds inflicted by Kirara passing him over for Kambei, and Kambei's own rejection, were still too fresh. Kambei's eventual acceptance of him as part of the group, down in the tunnels of the Shikimoribito, had soothed the wound but not yet healed it. "I am a samurai!" he yelled, infuriated. "And you're nothing but low-life yakuza scum! Yield to me, or I'll take all your heads and teach you to respect your betters!"

He drew his katana, the sound of steel against steel ringing in the quiet of the alley. His blood was rushing in his ears, his jaw clenched with anger. How dare they make fun of him? Who did they think they were?

Stepping forward, he sliced at the nearest one in a movement almost too fast to follow. The yakuza goon screamed and clutched at his hand, dropping his sword as blood sprayed. Spinning, Katsushiro blocked the lunge of another of the swordsmen, keeping half his attention on the gunman in case he decided to try ending it dishonourably.

He only realized his mistake when the blow struck him from behind, sending him staggering forward. He'd stepped away from the wall, and that left his back vulnerable. A fifth yakuza had been lurking in the shadows where Katsushiro hadn't noticed him, and he'd moved into the opening to strike the young samurai hard across the shoulders with a staff.

Bringing his katana up and around, Katsushiro tried to get it into place to block the next blow, but he was too slow. The staff impacted hard with his wrist, and his entire hand went numb all at once. The katana dropped from nerveless fingers, and the third staff blow drove Katsushiro to his knees.

They were on him in an instant, all five of them. For a moment he couldn't figure out what was happening as they ripped and tore at his clothes; then he started to struggle in panic. Surely they weren't... surely they couldn't mean to...

"Such a pretty boy... bet you've got a master who's MORE than happy to collect his 'payment' for teaching you," the yakuza leader crooned, grabbing Katsushiro's chin in one rough, calloused hand. Leaning close, the man's sake-laden breath swept over Katsushiro's face, making him choke. "I bet you even like it, don't you, pretty boy? Well, I'll tell you what... if you pay us the same way, we might think about letting you live."

"Never!" Katsushiro snapped, enraged. He was sickened by the mere thought, and he had no illusions that 'letting him live' was the same as 'letting him go'. He'd heard that some teachers demanded those sorts of favours from their young students, but even if Kambei did ever accept him as a student, Katsushiro was convinced he'd never want such a thing. Even if he did refer to Shichirouji as his 'spouse'.

He cried out as they finally succeeded in breaking the ties of his pants, having already yanked his jacket and armoured shirt off. He was left in the thin cotton under-shirt and little else, and their hands were everywhere, leaving trails of invisible filth on his skin where they touched. Screaming out outrage and mortification, Katsushiro tried to fight back, but his struggles only seemed to incite them.

They bent him over a convenient barrel, and he felt the first hints of pain as something pressed at his entrance. He gagged and tried to bite as another shoved his cock into Katsushiro's mouth, but painful fingers digging at the joint of his jaw kept him from closing his teeth around the reeking flesh. He closed his eyes tightly, tears of shame and humiliation leaking from the corners of his eyes. They're right, I am no samurai, he thought in disgust at his own weakness. A true samurai would never allow this to happen to him!

Kyuuzou paused in the entrance to the alley only a moment before sweeping down upon the group like a demon out of hell. He'd seen Katsushiro leave the inn and shadowed him, some sense of danger telling him that it might not be safe for the boy samurai to wander at night. When he'd moved down an alley to avoid detection by Katsushiro, he'd been waylaid by another group of Yakuza - like these, bent on removing the samurai from their town. He'd dispatched them, of course, but it had delayed him.

His swords already bloody from the other men he'd killed that night, he slashed through the torsos of two of the men looking on. The ones with their cocks already hanging out were no threat, and Kyuuzou concentrated on the ones with weapons in their hands first. The pair of men screamed as blood sprayed forth, splashing over the other three Yakuza and Katsushiro.

Swearing, the one holding Katsushiro and the other two preparing to use his body fumbled for their own weapons and their pants at the same time.

They should have fled like the rats they were. Leaping forward over the still-falling bodies of the Yakuza, his blades flashed out too fast to see. There were six separate thuds as the bodies fell, separated from their heads in a twinkling.

Kyuuzou's eyes darted back and forth, his katana held at the ready. "Stand up if you can," he snapped at Katsushiro.

Still gagging, his mind blank with fear and horror, Katsushiro nevertheless scrambled to obey. He snatched his katana up and held it in shaking hands, hardly even aware of the fact that he still wore only his thin undershirt.

Backing up, he put his back to the fence once more, his whole body trembling with reaction as he stared at Kyuuzou's expressionless face.

Kyuuzou turned to scan the entrance of the alley. "Gather your things," he ordered. "More are coming. We need to get out of here."

Sense began to trickle back to Katsushiro, and he shook himself hard, trying to force his mind to work again. He grabbed his clothes and tugged his pants on awkwardly, his hand refusing to uncurl from the hilt of his katana even long enough for him to dress. Clutching his armour and jacket to him with his off hand, he turned to Kyuuzou. "Good enough, let's go," he declared.

Kyuuzou nodded and led the way towards the entrance of the alley, his katana still drawn. "We need to lay low," he said, already racing from shadow to shadow, though he kept Katsushiro in his peripheral vision. "There's another inn, nearby. Are you injured?"

Katsushiro followed him on autopilot, nowhere near as good at flitting from one shadow to the next as the older samurai. Still, he did well enough. "No," he said, after a moment to take stock of himself. "Just bruises and scrapes." His wrist would ache for days, probably, and the blow to his shoulders made the muscles there scream every time he tried to lift his arms, but he'd had much worse.

Kyuuzou eyed him, his expression inscrutable as always. Surely he's stronger than that. He must have fought. How did they get him into that position without hurting him? "This way," was all he said as he ducked down another alley. Behind them, the sounds of cries of horror and shouts of anger echoed as the other Yakuza members discovered their fallen companions.

They reached the entrance to the inn quickly. The woman who answered the door took a look at their dishevelled and blood-covered forms and nearly closed the door in their faces. Kyuuzou stuck an arm in and stopped the door, glaring at her. "We want no trouble. Three rooms, and a hot bath drawn immediately."

"O-o-okyakusan," the heavily painted woman stuttered. "Please, we haven't enough rooms. We have only two--"

"Two is enough," Kyuuzou growled, shoving the door open wider and stepping inside. "Go. Now. Tell the Yakuza we're here and you'll share their fate."

Katsushiro followed him in quickly and shut the door behind him, hearing the echoes of anger from the Yakuza far behind them. He felt nervous and exposed, here in the relative open of the large common room of the inn. Swallowing hard, his eyes darting from side to side, he clutched his bundle to his chest and tried to convince himself to sheath his katana now that he was inside.

The woman led them upstairs to the end of the hall and pointed out the two rooms that were left. Kyuuzou peered through the doors and accepted the keys from her. "Go get the bath now," he ordered, watching her as she fled down the hall before entering the larger of the two rooms. There was only one bed, but at least it was a double. It would do. "I don't think she'll betray us," he said, turning to Katsushiro once the door was closed. He started towards the window. "Get cleaned up, I'll go get the peasant and bring him back here where it's safe."

Katsushiro had to take a deep breath to restrain the sudden wild impulse to beg the other samurai to stay. He was a samurai, damn it, not a child. Am I? "All right," he managed to say, proud that his voice remained steady. "Hurry. If they catch him alone and realize he's with us, he won't stand a chance."

His expression was set and hard, but his eyes were large and looked almost like bruises against his pale skin, something deep within them broken and bleeding.

Kyuuzou's eyes seemed to bore right into Katsushiro's soul. Then he turned away. "Be safe," he said. "I will be back soon." Drawing his katana again, he leapt from the window and was gone.

Katsushiro paced back and forth nervously, after dropping his shirt and armour on the bed. He'd managed to sheath the katana, but he clutched the saya now like a lifeline, knuckles still white.

He very nearly impaled the maid who knocked on the door to announced that his bath was ready, but somehow he kept himself from drawing the sword by sheer effort of will. She stammered at the sight of him, her words barely understandable before she turned and fled back down the hall.

Staring after her, he tried hard to take hold of himself. He was fine. Kyuuzou had saved him before anything... before they'd really... he'd saved him. The yakuza didn't know they were here, Kyuuzou would be back any moment with Rikichi, he was safe, damn it. And there was a bath waiting for him downstairs, where he could clean off some of the filth that had been left behind on his skin...

It was the last thought that decided him. Grabbing his clothes again, he limped down the stairs and into the empty bathing room, shutting the door securely behind him. Now that adrenaline was wearing off he could feel the pain in his body, sharper than he'd thought. Placing his katana right beside him where he could grab it quickly if anyone came in, Katsushiro claimed a bucket, a bar of rough soap, and a cloth before sitting down on one of the low stools.

Apparently he'd struggled harder than he'd realized; as he stripped off his undershirt to scrub down, he discovered dark shadows already forming on his delicate skin where they'd held him by the wrists and upper arms. His right wrist was red and swollen, and it was hard to move it - he thought it might have been sprained by the staff blow. His shoulders, when he twisted his head to glance at them, were also rapidly going dark where the staff had struck him twice. He was lucky he didn't have a broken wrist or worse, a broken spine.

Lips pressed tight in a grim line, trying hard not to think about WHY he needed to wash so badly, he started scrubbing himself with the harsh soap and rough cloth. And scrubbing, and scrubbing, and scrubbing, until his skin was red and raw and it still felt like he'd never be clean again.

Kyuuzou deposited the confused and frightened Rikichi in the other room, cautioned him not to leave it, and then returned to the one he planned to share with Katsushiro. He waited for a while, growing more and more nervous with each passing minute that something ELSE might have happened to him.

Finally, he left the room, stalking downstairs and flagging down a passing maidservant. "Where is the boy?" he asked. "The one who came in with me?"

"H-he went to have his bath, okyakusan," the woman stammered, bowing repeatedly.

"Show me."

The woman led him to the back of the inn, and to a heavy wooden door. From the darkening of the wood, it was obvious that this hallway was often filled with steam as the door opened. He pounded on the door. "Katsushiro? Are you in there?"

At the first knock Katsushiro had snatched up his sword, drawing it and facing the door with shaking hands. Had they found him? No, that was ridiculous, they wouldn't knock, would they?

The sound of the seldom-heard but still recognizable voice made him relax somewhat. "Kyuuzou-dono?" He hadn't been down there THAT long, had he? Could the other samurai possibly have gotten Rikichi and made it back already? "Is Rikichi-dono all right?"

"He's fine," Kyuuzou said, relaxing at the sound of the boy's voice. "Do you need help?"

Help? Glancing down, Katsushiro realized he'd scrubbed himself so hard he was actually bleeding sluggishly in places. "N-no, I'm fine," he said, gingerly setting the sword down again and picking up the cloth to wipe off the blood. He gave a muffled yelp as his injured wrist protested the movement, and cursed under his breath.

Before either of them knew he was going to do it, Kyuuzou was in the room, katana drawn, scanning the room for danger. When nothing materialized out of the shadows, he frowned at Katsushiro. "What now?"

Katsushiro had knocked over his stool in surprise when Kyuuzou entered the room so abruptly, and was now standing with his sword out and his back against the wall, staring wide-eyed at his companion. "Nothing!" he said, a little more sharply than he'd intended. "I'm just... a little more injured than I thought. I'm fine."

Kyuuzou stared at him for a few moments before finally sheathing his katana and starting towards the door again. "Don't take too long," he said. "You're vulnerable here."

"I know that," Katsushiro snapped, annoyed at the reminder. That was the last thing he'd needed to hear. He waited until Kyuuzou closed the door behind him again, then quickly wiped off the blood and the last of the soap, teeth gritted against the pain in his wrist.

He dressed again quickly, not bothering to soak in the hot water of the tub. There was no way in hell he'd be able to relax, certainly not after that reminder, and he had a feeling it wouldn't make him feel any cleaner, either. Grabbing his sheathed sword in his left hand, he made his way out of the bathing area again.

Kyuuzou was waiting for him outside of the bathing room, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. When the door opened, he brushed past Katsushiro. "Wait," he ordered quietly, picking up the tub of cold water and splashing some on his hands and face to clean what blood there was off. Considering he'd slaughtered at least 10 people tonight, there was very little.

Katsushiro watched him, glancing nervously down the hall every so often. I need to learn how he does that, he thought enviously as he watched. Even Sensei gets more blood on him than that. Well, at least I know he doesn't wear that red jacket because it hides the blood! He knew he was getting silly, but it was easier to just let random thoughts flow through his mind than to allow himself to start thinking about what had happened.

Kyuuzou DID in fact wear the jacket because it hid the blood, but he also took care not to be in the way of the spray wherever possible. Tonight, he'd been moving so fast, he was literally on to his next victim before the first had had time to fall. His own body was aching a bit, but he knew he'd be fine by morning. And that much faster for the workout.

He straightened finally, striding out of the room. "Let's go," he said, heading back towards their room.

Katsushiro followed him, wishing he could regain that numb feeling he'd had when they were making their way here from the alley. He wished he could figure out what Kyuuzou was thinking, too, but that was too much to ask for even on a good day. I'm sure he's disgusted by my weakness, he thought to himself, scowling. I would be. I can't believe I let them get the drop on me like that! And then... but his mind still shied away from that, and he let it.

Kyuuzou led Katsushiro to their room and closed the door, sitting down on the bed once it was securely locked behind them. He'd shown Rikichi how to get to their room via the balconies, so he was sure if there were something desperately wrong, the peasant could find a way to let them know he needed help.

Screaming would suffice, anyway, and Kyuuzou knew for certain that Rikichi was capable of that.

He glanced up at Katsushiro as he began to remove his katana. "Where are you injured?" he asked. The boy had said he was more hurt than he thought, and Kyuuzou intended to take care of that first. The rest...he'd figure out what to do about that, if necessary.

"A sprained wrist is the worst of it, I think," Katsushiro said quietly, unable to quite meet those dead, expressionless eyes. "Some bad bruising, it's going to be hard to move my shoulders tomorrow but I'll manage fine."

Kyuuzou gestured towards Katsushiro, holding out a hand. "Show me your wrist," he said. Might need to be splinted...

Reluctantly Katsushiro held out the wounded arm for inspection. Stretching his arm out made his sleeve ride up, exposing both the swollen wrist and the dark bruising around it. "I can still bend it, it just hurts," he explained quietly. "I think as long as I try not to use it too much for a bit, it'll be fine by the time we get to the village."

Kyuuzou examined it, bending the hand back and forth and watching Katsushiro wince. "Be careful with it," he pronounced finally, releasing the boy's hand. "Don't draw your sword for a day or two, until the swelling goes down."

"If I can avoid it, I won't," Katsushiro agreed, trying to loosen the instinctive tight grip his off hand had taken on the sheath at the idea of not having his sword to protect him. Looking away from the older man he asked, "Shouldn't we sleep now? We've got a long road ahead of us."

Kyuuzou nodded, rising to his feet. "Yes, we should," he agreed. He'd been planning to do so, anyway, as soon as he'd ascertained that Katsushiro wasn't seriously hurt. Frankly, he was glad the boy didn't seem to want to talk about what had happened to him. The older samurai wasn't sure HE did. He began to strip down, totally without modesty.

Katsushiro made the mistake of glancing at his companion as he moved to take his side of the bed. He looked away again quickly, wide-eyed and blushing, when he realized the older man really did seem to intend to strip down completely.

Katsushiro only toed off his sandal and removed his jacket and armour once more, leaving him in his pants and undershirt. Sliding under the covers on his side of the bed, he set his katana down beside him on the mattress, his unhurt hand resting lightly on the saya.

Kyuuzou glanced at him with a frown. "What do you need your sword for?" he asked. "You're safe with me." He unstrapped a sheath from his calf and kept the knife, intending to slip it under the pillow. Crossing the room, he extinguished the lantern, then moved across the room towards the bed, his body outlined in the moonlight coming in through the window.

Katsushiro tried not to tense as Kyuuzou neared the bed, but he didn't do a very good job of it. He could feel his bruised shoulders screaming in protest, but he ignored them. "I always sleep with my sword in reach," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "Don't you?"

"Yes," Kyuuzou said, sliding into bed next to Katsushiro. His double saya was on the floor next to the bed, and the knife was slipped under the pillow. "But you aren't supposed to use yours. You are safe with me protecting you, boy."

Katsushiro bristled. Bad enough to be called 'boy' - they all called him that - but he didn't need protection, damn it! "If enough of them happen to find us that you're busy, I'd rather not have to fumble around looking for it," he said stiffly, clutching the saya a little tighter. "And I won't sleep properly without it, I'm used to having it there."

Kyuuzou was silent for a moment. Shrugging, he settled onto his back, folding his hands across his chest. "Do what you like." It wasn't as though he cared whether the boy slept with his katana. He'd just thought it odd.

Sighing, Katsushiro relaxed slightly when there was nothing else forthcoming from his companion. Why did I have to be assigned to him? he wondered miserably. Why couldn't I be with Sensei, or Heihachi-dono, or Kirara-dono!

Immediately he felt guilty for the thought. Kyuuzou had, after all, saved him just an hour before. "Sleep well, Kyuuzou-dono," he finally said hesitantly.

Kyuuzou grunted softly, closing his eyes and listening as Katsushiro fell asleep. He's upset, but nothing really happened, did it? I'm sure he was just frightened, he thought to himself as the boy's breathing slowly lengthened. He'll be all right.

|Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3| |Part 4| |Part 5| |Part 6| |Part 7| |Part 8|

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