Thank you for checking this out! I've been writing this story on and off since January, and decided to finally post it. After watching the episode about Kawai's misfortune, all I wanted to do was have Kat-chan comfort Toshi because boy oh boy, does that man need it.
.*Changing of the Guard*.
Shinai cracked the crisp January air with collective shouts—a direct contrast to the warmth and quiet which embraced the inner spaces of Nishi Honganji. Even winter's oppressive chill stood little defense against the smoldering of an irori hearth, as early afternoon sunlight permeated shoji and aroused a delicate glow upon the dark cedar wood construct.
It was within the comfort of those magnificent walls and arching rooftops where everything was proceeding as uncomfortably as Kondo had expected: right to the inward pull of Hijikata's brows, the outward displeasure in his expression, even the very words he spoke.
"It's too dangerous." The shut down and dismissal were immediate. "It's not even a sensible plan."
Remaining collected and perhaps too calm in his approach of such a dire subject, Kondo gazed across the brief stretch of tatami dividing where he and Hijikata sat facing each other. His tongue poked out to wet his lips and he let his lashes fall before agreeing. "It is dangerous. But these negotiations are necessary. Matsudaira-ko wants to avoid war at all costs."
"So why should you have to go to Hiroshima," Hijikata pressed curtly, the reply bearing more semblance to an agitated statement than a question. "Think about it, who does Choshu hate most of all? Our presence would only be inflammatory. If Aizu insists on sending one of us, I'll go instead."
Kondo's head lolled slightly to the side as he drew in a deep breath. "Toshi—"
"Toshi nothing. The risk is unjustified. For all we know, this could be playing into some plot to assassinate you." With a brusque nod, Hijikata repeated, "I'll be the one to go. It's more important for you to stay back and oversee what's going on here."
Kondo's features softened further at the rebuke. This was the way things had always been between them, whether the situation was critical or not: the overprotective nature, the blatant selflessness, Hijikata's will to personally go to the ends of the earth instead of allowing Kondo a moment's worth of inconvenience—and further. There was the Hijikata Toshizo who was the Shinsengumi's Vice Commander and the Hijikata Toshizo who shared his commander's bed; right now, Kondo knew both were speaking from the same place if only because he, himself, was as well.
"Toshi," he urged in a whisper, reaching forth across the short distance to place his hand on a strong forearm. It was the point he'd been building to, that his consent to embark on this journey wasn't at the insistence of Matsudaira or anyone else. Kondo's fingers flexed inward, taking an unyielding grip and then offering a singular, distinct shake. "I'm the one who volunteered."
A pause followed, the intensity in the gaze they shared managing to augment even further, with each staring deeply to convey the candor of his emotions. At last, Kondo slid a little closer and when his voice shattered the tension, it was with determination and sincere will. "I want to do it for the Shogun and Matsudaira-ko."
The corners of Hijikata's mouth twitched as his contemplative silence persisted, clearly torn between the necessity of granting his blessing for political reasons and wanting to contend the same decision for mostly personal ones. He stared with the familiar all-encompassing ferocity he assumed whenever he was vexed, the inner turmoil written so openly on his face that for a moment, Kondo suspected there would be no consensus between them.
But as if he'd read his mind, that was exactly when Hijikata broke the quietude. "Then," he spoke, the fire in his eyes betraying the softening of his voice, "you're the one who's also coming back." A beat. "…Kondo-san."
It was a terse command boldly made to a commander, but the feeling with which it had been delivered enough to make Kondo's heart beat faster.
He exhaled when Hijikata relented, nodding once so vehemently that his shoulders dipped forward. "Yes," Kondo promised, breathy and ardent, as warmth flooded him.
A thick haze of precarious gray muddled the view of the impending weeks, making the likelihood of any given outcome no more or less clear in a situation that already guaranteed nothing. Still, Hijikata had sensed how important this was to him, and despite not being in agreement—despite how much he obviously was against it—had agreed anyway.
It was strength of its own class, one Kondo wasn't sure even he possessed; for though he would never admit it aloud, he couldn't say with complete certainty that he was unselfish enough to do the same in reverse.
Toshi…
He withdrew his hand then, as the venue was semi-public, and his digits stroked downward until they traced along Hijikata's. There would be time later when they could find themselves alone and able to communicate with the language of touch. In the present, however, a different type of exchange conveyed what the lips failed to.
They persisted to hold each other's gazes for several moments once the contact broke, while the uniform clamor of their men training on the front grounds contrasted the cheerful melody of birdsong.
Those harsh lines of discontent which Hijikata wore barely abated, and just before he averted his eyes to some obscure point, a singular demand was delivered soft and forthright.
"Come back, Kat-chan."
They sat in silence after that for some time, each with his forearms resting upon his knees and fingers dangling idly over the tatami—almost threatening to reach out and entwine.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Standing beyond open shoji, Kondo's arms were crossed before his chest while he studied the delicate lines of bare branches sweeping downward. It was the garden's most treasured feature: a wispy tree which flowered fragrant blossom clusters in the spring.
He wondered if he would have the opportunity to appreciate the charms of their elegant scent in the coming weeks, or if he'd taken them for granted the previous year without knowing it'd been his last chance. More of the same, more of the same… More and more, these were the kinds of questions Kondo had been asking himself as of late.
The answer never changed, either; whatever the case and whatever the subject of inquiry, it was ultimately useless to dwell on matters out of his hands—like destiny. What would be, would be. Therefore, he abandoned the what-ifs and philosophical thought, and turned his mind back to the reason for his visit.
Oyuki's residence was rife with the same airy sunlight that filled the space Hijikata and he had spoken in earlier, but despite being surrounded by the peace of natural beauty, Kondo somehow found the view less compelling.
It was easier to speak under these circumstances though, knowing he wouldn't be opposed or have to feel the weight of guilt on his shoulders. The words might sting but they wouldn't mar; there would be no longing gaze afterward that implored the opposite of the lips, no compelling sight to make him rethink something already decided.
She was here to rest and heal, and every so often listen to his complaints. And Kondo—well, he'd always had a soft spot for those down on their luck, after being in that place himself for so long. Hijikata was often at his neck for such generosity, but it was hard to genuinely call oneself a man of the people without acknowledging or caring about what society was like for the majority.
But these were just more musings under stark tree branches, as profound as they were useless.
"To be honest…" Kondo spoke up and paused to drum his fingertips against one bicep. "I might not come back alive this time."
The sudden sound of muffled rustling, of movement, in the room behind him feathered into his ears.
"Isami-sama." Oyuki's voice was gentle and he turned, finding her in seiza. "Is it for a noble cause?"
Kondo's chin fell in a nod. Such formality was unbecoming of Hijikata, but he could almost imagine him there instead, and his words in place of her own.
'Come back, Kat-chan.'
She placed her hands on the floor and bowed her head. He felt his expression soften.
'Come back, Ka—'
"Congratulations."
Kondo blinked. When their eyes met again after righting herself, Oyuki wore a tiny smile.
How different, this response. And though it was precisely what he had expected of her, it still left Kondo feeling slightly, curiously, disappointed.
The corners of his lips eased up and he returned the sentiment. This afternoon's purpose had been to ensure that even if something happened to him, the Shinsengumi would continue the protection of those they called friends. But looking at Oyuki now, Kondo found little reason to state the obvious.
…How very different, indeed.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
That night in a shallow sleep, he dreamed the stars which blanketed the sky in glitter looked foreign over Hiroshima.
Kondo's lashes parted suddenly to the caress of moonlight on his cheek, hinting through the outside doors and steeping the room in silver. Without blinking, he stared at the ceiling and swallowed. In the best case, this would be the last night for some time and in the worst…
His lips separated with a broken exhale and Kondo found himself drawn to the place beside him that was never empty. Letting his head fall to the right against the pillow roll, he suppressed a jolt when he found Hijikata's eyes open and on him.
They stared at each other for several moments.
"Kat-chan…" Hearing his name spoken softly enough to once again tug on his heart, Kondo's hand raised from where it lay at his hip and then fell between them facing up; it was an invitation which Hijikata immediately accepted. He ran his calloused fingers along the equally rough palm before allowing them to thread between Kondo's, and then took a tight hold as he whispered, "Go to sleep."
Kondo's grasp strengthened to match Hijikata's and he turned on his side, leaving the pillow entirely in favor of the futon. He pushed their entwined hands against his forehead and closed his eyes, pressing harder and then harder yet.
His subsequent murmur reflected the tenderness. "You too."
Hijikata's chin dipped and his lashes fell for a moment, before he shadowed Kondo's movements and ended up in mirror configuration. Lying on his left, he also brought his forehead against their hands and closed his eyes again.
The tradeoff for big thoughts was little rest, and by the cracking of dawn at the horizon, both the commander and vice commander already felt the haze of fatigue.
In silence, Kondo ran a comb through Hijikata's hair and carefully pulled it back for binding. He took his time and reveled in the task, appreciating the sensation of silk feathering loosely about the leathered skin of his fingers. There was no denying Hijikata had been endowed with multiple facets of effortless beauty, but his hair in particular always captivated Kondo's fascination—the texture and scent, how it moved and caught the sunlight.
Or perhaps that was just his heart talking as it always did…as it spoke even now and begged him not to let go. Alas, the tie had been secured and the ponytail fell free from his doting hand with a glossy swish.
The quietude remained when Hijikata took over—as he stood behind Kondo, reached around his waist, and tied the straps of his hakama tightly. His arms lingered for longer than necessary, with nimble digits pulling at the knot he'd just made, and yet again for good measure. After helping him dress the rest of the way from there, Hijikata adjusted the final embellishments of Kondo's formal attire and finally looked up to meet his eyes.
"I'll be off," Kondo gently bade, the intensity in his gaze speaking more than his voice.
Hijikata's lips pursed and he shook his head. "Don't tell me goodbye."
"I won't bid you farewell."
"Kat-chan…"
Hijikata released the hemmed edges of the haori and braced his palms against Kondo's chest, leaning in and letting their lips meet. The kiss was soft, sensual and filled with everything left unspoken, as Kondo's hands covered the smaller ones pressed to him.
Too soon, they broke apart millimeter by millimeter—reveling in every moment of the final remnants of this closeness so precious.
"Take care of everything while I'm gone, Toshi," Kondo said with a tiny smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Especially yourself."
Hijikata merely nodded.
And then, it was time to leave.
-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-
Three Weeks Later
Misery enjoyed company, and unfavorable events often occurred in the fashion of multiples.
On the evening of Kondo's return from Hiroshima, candlelight filled the great room with soft gold and cast false impressions of warmth on a cheerless lot. His own mission had ended in disastrous failure where Aizu politics were concerned, but the jaded expressions of the cabinet who'd remained in Kyoto indicated the time spent apart had been no easier on them.
Typical council arrangement was assumed, with Kondo centered in seiza before two short rows of top ranks facing each other. An awkward reticence persisted among them, the space filled with periodic forced sniffling and throat-clearing, while worn fingers worried at hakama prior to smoothing the material back out.
Such ambiance was foreign for a gathering of outspoken individuals who sometimes, certainly, spoke too much (and too loosely); however, since Inoue had earlier relayed the news of the recent seppuku, it was a silence which felt less oppressive and more appropriate. For a fleeting moment even, the gentle dance of flame and wick had been the only movement in the room, something which also was as fitting as it was uncharacteristic.
At last, the soft exhale that escaped Kondo's lips broke the monotony, with shoulders sinking in kind while his eyes searched the short expanse of tatami separating the men. "Kawai." The name rode out beneath his breath and his gaze lifted to the immediate left, only to find Hijikata still staring at an insignificant point on the floor.
When harakiri was ordered during his last prolonged absence, Kondo's rarely roused wrath detonated on hearing of it and incited a furious tirade that had Hijikata shoved hard enough to hit the floor. If he were an identical man in younger shoes with the luxury of discretion, the same reaction might have stirred inside him now, for the loss of Kawai as resident accountant was more than simply lamentable. It was a waste—of life, of needed talent, of friendship.
But the times had moved past pardons and flexibility as the years began to take and take and take, and once they took Yamanami, the only justification Kondo could find was upholding the rigid code which forced such a hand. No matter how strict, no matter how much the imposition hurt, the rules were the rules and violating them had clearly defined consequences. If elective leniency couldn't save an irreplaceable vice commander, a beloved friend, it was out of the question to grant anyone else that compassion.
Thus, Yamanami's final day sparked a wave of transformation, as if his death had challenged everyone to be and do better. And since that time, this humble group of born and bred farmers had expanded and adapted and achieved greater notoriety: all as pleasing things as they were predictable, for change itself was nothing if not inevitable over time. However, from the place he sat now, Kondo observed a stark difference in the Hijikata he'd left the day of his departure and the one he returned to tonight after just three weeks.
He studied the expressionless facade, the dark circles presumed from lack of sleep or too much stress—or both. And only after remaining under this scrutiny for several passing seconds had Hijikata's attention slowly raised, his eyes without shine when they found Kondo's. Then, he dipped his chin once.
Kondo swallowed and set his lips in a line. "I'll pay my respects tomorrow."
The meeting wore on from there, mirroring the tension and fatigue of each man in attendance, but even then nothing was as dull as the void between Hijikata's lashes.
And Kondo was the only one who knew better.