dotmoon.net
Directory

"The Choshu Chronicles" by Omasu Oniwaban by The Archivist

previous  Chapter Twenty  next

CHAPTER TWENTY

June 7, 1866. Shimonoseki again. Kenshin patrolled the front of the familiar merchant’s home. The maple tree stood still, its leaves silent. There wasn’t a breath of wind to cool the heavy warmth of the summer air.

Takahata was patrolling the back, Nakamura had stayed behind in Yamaguchi, along with Oshio and Hojo, who were excited that Katsura said they could leave his service to fight with the other soldiers once the conflict began. Kenshin hadn’t seen Shunme in days. He was always off on his mysterious errands for Katsura.

“We’re ready.” Takasugi’s voice came from the mansion as he allowed the maidservant to slide the door open for him.

Kenshin turned to look as Katsura followed his friend out onto the porch.

“Good.” Katsura said.

Takasugi opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the sound of running footsteps came from down the street.

Kenshin placed his hand on his sword hilt as the runner burst through the gate. The man was breathing heavily. He was agitated, but his hands were clutching paper, not a sword.

“Takasugi!” The man shouted as he caught sight of his commander on the porch. He waved the paper. “They’re firing on Ohshima Island.”

The merchant’s house had a view of Shimonoseki Straits partially obscured by trees. Takasugi’s gaze lifted from the man to the sea just visible beyond the maple leaves.

“It’s begun.” Takasugi’s pockmarked face took on the expression of a cat spotting its prey as he stared out across the strait. His posture made Kenshin think of the string of a moon guitar after it’s been plucked, thrumming with energy.

Takasugi jumped off the porch and passed Kenshin without a glance, taking the report from his subordinate, unfolding and reading it as he walked toward the gate.

“Kenshin.” Katsura’s voice softly called him over.

Kenshin climbed the porch steps and joined the older man. Katsura’s face was set, determined, yet worried.

“I want you to follow Takasugi. Get yourself on his ship and guard him in the coming battle.”

“But Katsura…”

Katsura stared into Kenshin’s eyes almost angrily. “I know that Takasugi assigned you to be my bodyguard and assassin, but now he needs you more than I. Takasugi is dying. He may become foolhardy and try to join in the fighting. He’s crazy enough to try to board a bakufu ship. I need you to keep him safe.”

“What about you? Where’s Shunme?”

“I’ll be fine. Shunme will be back soon and I’ve got Takahata with me as well. Now go, quickly.”

Kenshin nodded, turned and ran.

He caught up to Takasugi and his messenger just as they reached the docks and boarded Takasugi’s ship, The Year Of The Tiger. It was a wooden gunboat, a warship with masts reaching high into the sky like the skeletal branches of trees in winter, as its sails were now furled, rolled up and secured for its time in port. Cannon barrels were visible along its sides.

Kenshin hung back, allowing Takasugi and his underling to go up the gangplank without him. The minute Takasugi got on board, the activity increased.

He waited until Takasugi disappeared down into the interior of the ship, then strode confidently up to the gangplank, where he was immediately challenged by one of the sailors carrying a rifle.

“What do you want?” the sailor asked suspiciously.

“Katsura sent me.”

Another sailor, walking along behind Kenshin with a chest on his shoulder, nodded to the first one. “I’ve seen him with Katsura. He’s the bodyguard.”

The first sailor stepped back to allow Kenshin to pass.

At the top of the gangplank, Kenshin thanked the second sailor and moved to the far railing, to be out of the way of the sailors and soldiers who were checking their rifles and running up and down the steps leading below decks.

Takasugi came back out and gave the order to cast off. Kenshin hung back, finding a shadowed nook by one of the cabin-like constructions that sprouted from the deck of the ship.

The ship jerked, and moved away from the dock. Its prow turned toward the straits of Shimonoseki as it left the merchant town behind.

“Takasugi.” Kenshin came up alongside the captain, and made his presence known.

Takasugi glared. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Katsura.”

“He sent me.”

Takasugi gave a quick bark of a laugh. “As though I needed protection.” He glanced over Kenshin’s head to where two sailors were arguing with a rifleman. “Just stay out of the way.”

And so Kenshin did, shadowing Takasugi as he roamed the ship, barking orders, consulting with subordinates, and planning his attack.

They would attack in the evening. Kenshin couldn’t help but hear the crewmembers’ worried comments. Evidently, nighttime naval attacks were unheard of. If Takasugi was aware of their fears, he ignored them.

The night was dark, light clouds covered the moon and stars. Standing on the upper deck near Takasugi, Kenshin heard the gunners preparing their cannons, mounted along the gunwales. Squads of sharpshooters lined the decks, staring intently out across the water, getting their eyes acclimated to the dark.

From the upper deck, Kenshin had a clear view of Ohshima Island. Its fortifications, now in Bakufu hands, standing out in stark contrast to the natural beauty of the island skyline.

Four massive Bakufu warships, purchased from the French, were anchored just off the island. Kenshin was horribly aware of just how small Takasugi’s ship was in comparison. The Bakufu warships were twice the size of The Year Of The Tiger. They lay silent and dark in the water, sleeping.

Takasugi’s men maneuvered the Year Of The Tiger in between the larger ships, which loomed up in the night as they came within range.

Kenshin stood at Takasugi’s side. From over the ship’s rail he stared out at the enemy ships now surrounding the diminutive Year Of The Tiger. They were absolutely still.

“Fire.” shouted Takasugi. Immediately, the cannons on both sides of the ship went off, the booms nearly deafening in such close quarters. The crack and splinter of wood echoed across the water. The Bakufu ships were hit.

Men began pouring out onto the decks of the Tokugawa navy’s warships, rushing up from staircases set into the decks.

As they made it out onto the top of their ship’s deck, Takasugi’s sharpshooters began firing. The Bakufu soldiers didn’t stand a chance.

Takasugi’s ship was so close, that Kenshin could practically see the expressions of the soldiers as they died, their bodies jerking back from the impact of a rain of bullets. And the soldiers kept coming, each successive wave shot down as they cleared the top of the stairs.

Kenshin glanced across the deck and saw the same scene being played out on the ships on the other side of the Year Of The Tiger. There were too many casualties to count, and all in the space moments. Gun smoke and the sickly smell of blood wafted across the midnight water.

The cannons reloaded and began firing again.

Takasugi laughed harshly, causing Kenshin’s horrified gaze to jerk back from the carnage continuing on either side, and stare at the man.

Takasugi was surveying the damage to the Bakufu ships. “This is so easy, I almost feel guilty.” His eyes were fever bright. He began to cough; his glee undiminished as he reached into his shirt and pulled out a handkerchief.

Kenshin looked away from the blood staining the white fabric, to the blood still being spilled on the decks of the bakufu ships.

More shots rang out, this time in the direction of Ohshima Island. The bakufu troops on shore realized that their ships were being attacked.

Takasugi straightened, wiping his mouth furiously. “Retreat!”

The order was shouted along the ship, and the Year Of The Tiger shuddered and came about, as sailors ran frantically along the decks blowing out the lanterns. The ship glided away in complete darkness.

Before the last lantern on the upper deck was extinguished, Kenshin took a last look at the piles of bodies on the Bakufu ships. The battle lasted only a few minutes, and scores of people were dead. He shuddered slightly at the horror of it.

Feeling Takasugi’s gaze on him, Kenshin shifted to meet it, and saw that his commander’s eyes were narrowed in contempt. Then the last light went out.

“Queasy Kenshin?” Takasugi’s voice, dark with blood and heavy with satisfaction seemed overly loud now that the firing on board stopped.

“No.”

A dark, knowing chuckle answered his denial. “I never thought I’d see the best killer I ever trained turn weak at the sight of a few bodies, battousai.” Takasugi used his old title mockingly.

“I’m not the hitokiri battousai anymore.” The ship was now out of range of the snipers on Ohshima’s shore. Kenshin moved away from Takasugi to the steps leading to the lower deck.

“We go ashore tomorrow to finish what we’ve started, Kenshin. Hitokiri battousai or not, if Katsura sent you, I will make use of your skills.”

Kenshin paused, but didn’t turn around.

“Yes.” he said at last, and made his way down the steps.

o-o-o


Takasugi insisted on leading the troops of his Extraordinary Corps on shore at first light. Kenshin stayed at his side for as long as possible, but Takasugi eventually found a hillock where he set up a command center.

“Go and fight.” He told Kenshin. “You’re wasted here.”

“Katsura said…” began Kenshin in protest.

“I don’t care what Katsura said. I gave you to him, and he gave you back. You obey my orders now. If we don’t win this battle, we’ll all be captured and killed. How will you guard me then? Now go.”

Waving over a lieutenant, Takasugi assigned Kenshin to his squad.

Kenshin became a common soldier. His squad was ordered to support Takasugi’s main force, which was advancing into the interior of Ohshima. Refusing to use a rifle, Kenshin spent much of the time pinned down by enemy fire behind a ridge.

The noise and smell were horrific. Blood, human waste, and gunpowder smoke all combined to form a noxious miasma that lay heavily over the field of battle. Bullets flew overhead, or thudded into the hill where Kenshin lay hunkered down next to the other squad members.

A rifleman took pity on him, and showed him how to reload. There was a lever on the underside of the rifle near the trigger. When the lever was pulled down, the gun opened on a hinge and the barrel tipped forward. After inserting a brass cartridge inside the barrel, all that was left to be done was to close it. This snapped the barrel back into place, ready to be fired. Grabbing a gun from a dead soldier’s hand, Kenshin loaded it and traded off handing it to the rifleman when the rifleman’s own weapon was empty.

Until the time when the rifleman didn’t reach for the spare rifle.

The man lay slumped against the dirt, a hole in the back of his skull where the fatal bullet had exited. Kenshin left him where he lay and crawled over to the next soldier down the row, silently handing him the loaded spare weapon when his own ran out of ammunition.

Late in the afternoon, the order came to charge. This was when Kenshin’s skill became useful.

All coherent thought fled. He was running forward with the others, some of whom had their own swords out in the time honored fighting style of the samurai. Ignoring those who fell from bullet wounds, Kenshin moved on, and engaged the bakufu troops, reaching them first.

He cut a swath through the soldiers like a sickle through a rice patch. In close quarters, their rifles were useless. He lost count of the men he killed. He didn’t think about master Hiko’s teachings. There was no need for the more esoteric sword techniques. One vital point for each victim worked fine.

His hands grew slick with blood. If not for the silk strands wrapped around the hilt, Kenshin’s fingers would have slid off long since.

Finally, it was night, and his squad fell back to light the cook fires and eat their evening meal of rice balls with pickled plums stuck in the middle, and dried fish.

At dawn it began again. Kenshin awoke to the sound of artillery shells; the bakufu and the choshu sides both had brought cannon. By 10:00 the battle was in full swing.

His squad was ordered to the center of the front line, but ended up toward the right of it, angling their way into a patch of woods, which they held for the rest of the day.

They repulsed attacks twice that afternoon, the Bakufu troops charging with a yell, only to be stopped by gunfire. Kenshin killed the few who managed to get into the tree line, having to keep his head down to avoid getting it shot off by one of his own men.

The second attack was more vicious, as the Bakufu troops became desperate. Kenshin fought for two solid hours of brutal one on one combat before the enemy troops pulled back and out of the woods.

Night fell. The squad settled for the night next to a graveyard at the edge of the woods. Kenshin slept sitting upright, his back against a tree.

He imagined Tomoe coming softly from behind him, preceded by a smell of white plum blossoms.

Her arms wrapped around him, and her chin came down to rest on top of his head. Once again he heard her voice from memory saying, “you could have been happy as a farmer with land and some seeds to plant.”

He woke to the reality of the battlefield with its smell of blood and the groans of the wounded, and felt again that searing loss that he’d felt when she died. There among the other members of the squad, sitting or lying around him, he felt alone once again.

A/N Civil War fans may recognize that Kenshin learned to load the Maynard Carbine, a favorite weapon of the confederate cavalry. Thomas Glover, the arms merchant who sold Choshu weapons, was said to have sold them a lot of civil war surplus weapons, and the Maynard Carbine could very well have found itself in Choshu hands.


previous  Back to Summary Page  next

The dotmoon.net community was founded in 2005. It is currently a static archive.
The current design and source code were created by Dejana Talis.
All works in the archive are copyrighted to their respective creators.