Authors' Notes
-Welcome to our new project! This bright new fanfic is a joined work between me and MysteriousLittleChild. We truly hope you can all share our mirth and excitement. You might have guessed by the summary, but this story will awaken long lost childhood memories, combining them with the allure of Hakuouki characters.
Aen Silver Fire
-Bringing the together two of my favourite fandoms is... well, something I've always wished to do and to do so with a friend such as Aen Silver Fire is a dream come true. I admit that I have been bouncing off the walls ever since we agreed to do this together and I do hope that you enjoy what we have written together. Dazzling white horses really are the best, aren't they?
MysteriousLittleChild.
Disclaimer: We do not own Hakuoki.
Worth Fighting For
~Chapter 1~
Kondou Isami had always been a man of honesty.
The proud, hefty banner under which he and his loyal men marched only added to strengthen this argument.
Makoto. Sincerity.
A virtue long lost behind fake smiles, drowned in the depths of cajolery.
Kondou willed himself to smile gently at the High Officials of Aizu and endorse the enthusiasm of their decisions. War Councils, skirmishes, rigorous strategies swirling around him, almost suffocating him. He was determined to entertain the Lords, deftly convince them to favor his men and not withdraw their continued support and, if presented with the proper chance, even offer his own input on the battle's layout. He was, after all, a man of the military too, wasn't he?
Deep inside, though, he was burning, spurting insults at himself for condescending to participate in this Council.
Which part of this meeting was sincere, he wondered. Certainly not the wry smiles, or the inane flattery.
He had, undoubtedly, already pledged his allegiance to the Aizu Clan. And, of course, he was not about to take his word back, regardless of the reason.
It was his duty to ensure the well-being of their troops. He was entrusted by Toshi and Sannan-kun to represent the newly-formed group called Shinsengumi. And Kondou Isami certainly did not forgive or concede failure; especially on his part.
It was to be expected, though, that flattery came at a price. And very shortly that price was demanded of him.
"What of your conscription program, Kondou-san? How is it progressing?"
The question was darted at him in a very abrupt and slightly unforeseen manner. Isami swallowed slowly and casted an anxious glance at the Aizu official, "Conscription program, my Lord?" he dared utter out, confusion laced in his kind voice.
The Official furrowed his austere eyebrows. "Wasn't it clear enough that for the Shinsengumi to continue marching under our wing and be allowed to participate in the upcoming war, they need to bolster their manpower? I thought it was made apparent enough already, Kondou-san."
At those sharp words, the kind Leader had no other choice but to nod. However, he also needed to ask for further clarification.
"Do you require us to send . . . recruitment papers?"
Quite frankly, the mere concept of a conscription program was difficult to accept or digest. They did not retain the right equipment to gather and train more men under their flag. And, as a matter of fact, it was already agreed upon by the Shinsengumi's founders that the troops will be constituted by the most trusted and faithful men they had in their reservoir. To even consider the probability of welcoming new, completely estranged and distrustful men to fight in their ranks, did nothing but worry Kondou.
Truly, boosting their numbers would be a great asset in battle. But accepting people callously into the troops they strove so greatly to form brought a very sour taste to Kondou's mouth.
The arid glower he received was deemed enough for an answer. Recruitment papers then. . . He needed to discuss this with Hijikata and Sannan promptly.
He was in position and had no authority to defy the Aizu's bigwigs. Should he even attempt to resist? Probably not. It was not his place. And it was also painfully clear that their numbers were too small for them to effectively assist the Aizu Clan in their endeavors to protect the Emperor and the country of Japan.
He opened his mouth to finally announce he'd adhere, until—
"My Lord!" The vehemence and apparent fright of the voice ruptured any last remaining pieces of calmness, discarded any last ounce of stability off the room. All occupants veered to intently regard the messenger.
Kondou was quite certain he had never set his eyes on a person more frightened before. The mere sighting of the disheveled and panting man brought shivers to cascade down his spine.
"The. . .The Choshuu." His voice was scarcely audible beyond his labored gasps. "The army—"
"What about the Choshuu?" One of the Lords raised his voice, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did they move against us? Did they pass the bridge we had placed as an—"
"An army!" The weakened man dared tower the Nobleman's voice with his, quite uncouthly. Whatever the news were, Kondou guessed, they must be critical enough to warrant such a rude interruption of an Official. "A strange army," he paused to take in a sharp breath to feel his deprived lungs with the much needed oxygen. "Undead. White hair. Red eyes. They cannot be defeated."
Frosty, intense and stringent gazes came to pin the messenger down with a hefty blanket of unease and, some, with consternation. The words the man just uttered hardly made any coherent sense. However, whatever the man's intentions were, whatever the nature or origins of this strange army were. . . his last exclamation stirred all Aizu Officials into frantic action.
"They are heading towards us!"
In the not so distant town of Edo, settled neatly within the confines of the Aizu domain, a brilliant white horse stalked the ground. He, the horse, was still struggling to get used to walking upon four legs instead of two despite not having been born yesterday. What would've regularly been curses came out as a frustrated, hollow neigh.
Things for the horse were not as they used to be. Where once upon a time he was a fearsome pure blood with the strength of several men, a ill chosen decision on the field of war left him in this state. He had always joked to his closest allies about wishing to ride into battle on a dazzling, white horse but he would have never once entertained the idea of actually playing the role of the horse itself.
For an Oni, such as him, to be punished in such a way for a moment of foolishness was unheard of. He was a man of impeccable breeding! A man who should, in the Oni community, be respected and admired if only for the lineage which pumped through his veins. A man of his regal standing should not be trapped within the body of a horse, serving a family for which he couldn't care for in the least. A light wind picked up, toying with his golden mane, bringing with it a small crimson cricket.
The cricket had some nerve sitting so comfortably at the end of his nose, it was an insult if he ever knew one. The way the cricket sat, perfectly still, reminded him of someone. A friend? No, ally, he could never let anyone know of how he thought of his underlings. He was brought up to keep people at an arm's length and use every ounce of them for his own benefit. He knew that those he trusted were also punished for their insolence, perhaps they too would be trapped in a body of a creature although hopefully, he thought, more fitting to their nature than he was.
His eyes, awkwardly, set firm on the small cricket. He wanted to ask, purely in curiosity, "Amagiri?"
It was as if the insect heard his inner thoughts, it leapt up into the air, its wings passing one and other to give off a delightful chirp. It reminded him of the type of noise he once took for granted as he stalked the battlefields in the early morn. A confirmation or just a very strange coincidence?
"It is I, Kazama-sama," The horse thought, his front right hoof clattering against the dusty ground, a vain attempt at gesticulation. In the dim light of the setting sun his brilliant, blonde mane shone like liquid gold whilst his eyes glowed like rubies, set into the purest white silken hide.
"Amagiri, can you understand my thoughts?" He continued, feeling ever more foolish as he allowed his selfish attempts to be recognized to persevere. He didn't just want to be known as Tiddles or Horsey, he wished to be remembered as the man, the Oni, he was.
The cricket chirped once again, nodding it's tiny head in affirmation.
One down, another one to go, he thought. The one he trusted was here, once again sat quietly on his broad nose, but where could the gun touter possibly be?
"Amagiri, do you know of Shiranui's whereabouts?" The horse enquired through a variety of whinnies and neighs loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
"I apologize, I do not." The cricket chirped back, the minuscule wings on its back working overtime so that it's thoughts could be conveyed.
All Chizuru could feel, all her senses could gather was. . . pain; almost akin to torture. Nearly blinding ail she was currently very much disinclined to suffer under. And yet it was a necessity, a price to pay. There was no time to wallow in sentimentality or self-pity anymore.
A pain, physical and emotional, induced by the mere fact that she was -quite sadly- a woman.
How awful it must have seemed for a young woman of her standing to rue for such a reason. It would probably be frowned upon, if publicly known. What kind of woman wails for being. . . a woman? A highly audacious concept to even consider. The role of females was to marry, serve their husband dutifully and bear sons. Not to mourn over. . . insignificant details.
"Chizuru-chan. . ." A deep sigh of weariness escaped past the girl's lips as she took a handful of Chizuru's chocolate brown hair and tenaciously brushed. Chizuru slowly veered to cast an anxious apologetic glance to her friend, forcing the kindest smile she could muster to grace her lips.
She knew Kosuzu was not obliged to tolerate and put up with her quirks. And yet, here she was, tending to her, priming her as much as possible, instead of devoting her time training on how to tune the shamisen, or dance hypnotically for her dear costumers as she was supposed to.
Heaving another sigh, Kosuzu batted her hazel eyes. "What are you giving me to work with, Chizuru-chan?" she whined softly and pinched the bridge of her nose indignantly.
Admittedly, having just arrived to their meeting place, drenched in sweat, clothes tacky, hair tangled with branches and numerous leaves was a sight Kosuzu would rather do without seeing. Chizuru was more than certain since the very start that her disheveled and unpolished appearance could only act to ensure a very prickly Kosuzu would meet her, instead of her usual kind self.
"I am so sorry, Kosuzu-chan!" Chizuru curled her lips into another apologetic smile that, unfortunately, did little to pacify the other young woman. "You…you should return back and resume your geisha training," Chizuru insisted, balling her hands into tense fists nervously. The unbidden jab of guilt that came to assail her was fairly impossible to thwart in its sudden ferocity. Watching Kosuzu struggling to tame her unruly locks in her stead was, naturally, not a sight Chizuru enjoyed. And also, as expected, the mere fact that another person was to suffer because of Chizuru's own foolishness and carelessness only acted to stress that horrid feeling of self-accusation and tremendous guilt and remorse she felt overwhelming her.
"You need not bother with me… I shall be fine!" She attempted to reassure, half expecting to be given an optimal reply; meaning Kosuzu's refusal to tend to her any longer. That would be a response equally catastrophic as it would be fortunate. Possibly tremendously disastrous for her future as a loyal wife, but very appropriate and fitting for her person especially, given Chizuru's peculiar circumstances.
Kosuzu pouted almost angrily. "You are meeting with the Matchmaker!" She voiced her argument as though it was self-explanatory, in great vehemence, an overwhelming surge of frustration strengthening her words."Your future is decided today! The Yukimura Clan's honor even! You cannot and must not allow yourself to fail."
The sheer verity and intensity of the words Kosuzu just offered had Chizuru nibbling at her lower lip nervously, breath almost quivering. It was a fact that there was no other egress; none whatsoever. Fate designed her life in a manner which dictated her to act in a very specific, very seemly manner. And yet, she had proved to act in a way quite opposite of what was expected of her all her life.
How preposterous it truly was for the daughter of the Yukimura family to be gloriously unable to use cosmetics, or properly tie up a silk kimono?
This was truly why she was in such desperate need of her good childhood friend, Kosuzu, who, luckily for Chizuru, was currently training as a maiko, a geiko apprentice, to offer her aid. Naturally, the girl was certain to be a master of adulating women properly. And that was exactly what Chizuru needed at the moment to look even slightly presentable.
One of the most important reasons acting to strengthen the argument that Kosuzu was the most suitable person to cater to Chizuru's current needs was that the Matchmaker was, in fact, a famous geiko herself. Surely, a trick or two from Kosuzu's sleeve could make all the difference. And Chizuru needed as much luck as she could possibly get, considering the meager skills she had displayed thus far. With such poor mastery of any womanly virtues, how could she possibly entertain the idea of claiming to be a proper Edo woman, a daughter of the Yukimura family?
A sharp intake of breath ruptured the deafening silence, a breath laced with a very distinct sense of –still only partial, thankfully- resignation and displeasure.
"You know what? Forget about conventional methods," Kosuzu mumbled behind gritted teeth. She lifted her hands away from Chizuru's very defiant locks and moved to draw her own silk green-brownish ones into a delicate and yet messy bun, seemingly resigned to her fate as loyal friend of the Yukimura girl's –at the same time surrendering herself to whatever repercussions followed said fact- and determined to see this duty of sorts to a proper end. "Undress, please," she demanded lifting her sleeves up to her elbows masterfully.
Chizuru blinked thrice in confusion. "Pardon?"
Kosuzu gave her a crooked, a little impish and sarcastic smile. "Your hair needs to be washed thoroughly. Now, do me a favor and kindly undress, so I can rinse this layer of dirt off your body!"
Submitted under the pedantic and austere glare she had hardly ever seen upon her friend's eyes, she could do nothing but act as instructed.
Moments later, she was stripped completely naked. Kosuzu did not hesitate to almost hurl Chizuru into the water basin with fairly unexpected force.
Impetuous frenzy ensued.
"Cold!" Chizuru's panicked exclamation was impossible to thwart. She brought her hands to cover her chest, rubbing at her forearms at the same time, frantically trying to warm her body up.
"Well, maybe it could have been warmer, if you showed up in time for our appointment," Kosuzu taunted, inhibiting an undignified snort.
Before Chizuru could utter a single word on her defense, a great current of water falling over the top of her head rendered every attempt to do so futile. A very clear sign that Kosuzu was not very pleased. Not at all.
"How did you manage to tangle your hair so much?" Kosuzu complained, indignation and exasperation almost palpable.
Would it serve any purpose to even attempt to explain?
She slightly inclined her head to closely regard Kosuzu. What she received in return was an askance, furtive and certainly disgruntled glance.
No. Probably no explanation will be deemed enough.
And thus, she could do nothing but obediently, wordlessly endure.
She was soon, almost bulldozed out of the basin and left to bask in her embarrassment, until Kosuzu finally thought it acceptable to provide her with a clean towel.
"Dry your hair like your very life depends on it," she nearly growled. "If it's not dried enough until I prepare the brushes, I swear, instead of the Matchmaker, you shall meet the Undertaker."
Gulping in fright, she started rubbing her scalp with the towel in a maddening rhythm, striving to satisfy the angered maiko.
Ultimately, her efforts were recognized the moment Kosuzu came to closely inspect. She only offered a very curt nod of approval, but it was enough for Chizuru to breathe out a sigh of candid relief.
In a dashingly expert manner, Kosuzu's pale hands deftly took a firm hold of Chizuru's chocolate brown –and now much softer- hair once more. Dipping her comb into waters so heated that raised puffs of white, she slowly proceeded to run it over the full length of Chizuru's locks, ascertaining that the hair will be held in place as they were supposed to.
Chizuru cast an elusive look, hiding desperate pleas of mercy at the maiko, but, sadly, none of her imploring was heard. Struggling to shove the very concept of pain into oblivion, she bit at her lips and muffled a cry, standing firm as Kosuzu ruthlessly combed all of Chizuru's precious hair and pulled it in the traditional Edo style.
Kosuzu took a step back, watching the other girl intently. She titled her head, tapping her slender fingers at her cheek pensively. Nodding to herself, she finally deemed Chizuru presentable enough. For the time being, at least.
"Close eyes and mouth," the next order was barked in even greater urgency. Chizuru was spared not even a moment to drew in a breath before a wet brush full with white paint danced around her complexion, shading her already quite pale skin alabaster.
"Raise your head." He neck promptly followed to match the shining whiteness of her visage. Soon the nape and shoulders were also painted silk ivory.
"Keep your eyes still closed, okay?" Not even distantly entertaining the idea of disobeying, Chizuru complied. Fiery red came to beautifully lick the corners of her eyelids, ashen black was drawn upon her brows, scarlet came to settle as a blanket upon her rosy lips.
After acquiring permission to do so, she fluttered her cinnamon-colored eyes open.
"Now, please stand up," Kosuzu chirped, evidently in higher spirits. Chizuru only hoped her mirth was caused by the very favorable and optimal result of her efforts and not only because Chizuru looked alarmingly close to a very badly bruised sumo wrestler . . . or worse.
She lifted her arms to aid Kosuzu in her hard work. Soon, she was enveloped by a stunningly bright pale lemon-colored under-dress. A breath later a dashingly vermillion silk kimono was brushed across the entirety of her small physique and came to settle above her yellow robe-like apparel. Kosuzu hurriedly picked an azure-colored obi and secured it around Chizuru's middle so very tightly that the brunette felt her breath being claimed away irrevocably.
"Ko—" she could only utter, gasping for her much-needed oxygen.
"Tiny waist, Chizuru-chan," was the –quite strong- rebuttal she received in return. And, naturally, no words could be used to counter this glorious argument.
"Now. . ." Kosuzu pulled herself into a standing position and held out her right hand. Blinking curiously, Chizuru moved to take it and was shortly placed before a full-length mirror.
She batted her eyes repeatedly. Could it be? Could that be her, really? The mere concept was impossible to digest. How could this beautiful young lady staring at her intently be, in fact, Yukimura Chizuru?
Feeling disturbingly disorientated by the outlandish, mystifying allure of the individual in the reflection, she titled her head to the side, searchingly. Despite the sheer audacity of the realization, the woman before her retained features very similar to Chizuru's own.
"Not yet!" Kosuzu abruptly exclaimed in uncontainable enthusiasm. She briskly crossed the room and waddled back holding a very peculiar wooden artifact.
In utter fright Chizuru realized that said artifact was not an artifact at all. It was a small cage, holding in its confines one of the most peculiar creatures she had ever set her almond eyes upon; a crimson insect.
"It's a cricket!" Kosuzu clarified, titling her head to the side happily.
"Cricket?" Chizuru parroted, blinking confusedly.
"I found it resting on a white steed. The sight was truly curious to behold. A crimson cricket upon an ivory-colored horse with golden mane, imagine that. . . I could not just ignore it. I am certain the reason this cricket was placed on my path was because it shall bring you good luck."
"Luck?" Chizuru mumbled incredulously. She had no earthly clue as to what Kosuzu's thoughts were. Was she about to. . . offer her a cricket? At any rate, luck was truly something essential and very urgently needed. Still. . . a cricket?
This question was answered a moment after, while Kosuzu dexterously hid the tiny cage and the poor creature behind the folds of Chizuru's obi.
"What am I supposed to do with a cricket?" She wondered, eyeing Kosuzu as though every sense of logic had abandoned her. The gentle geiko apprentice lifted her hands and gently squeezed Chizuru's shoulder affectionately, opting to wholly ignore the last honest query.
"Now, now, my beautiful friend," a blithe smile of enthusiasm came to settle upon Kosuzu's lips, "Could you, please, enlighten me as to what a proper woman Edo needs to be in order to qualify as a perfect bride?"
Stirred into action out of pure instinct, Chizuru recited, "Quiet and demure, graceful, polite, delicate, refined, poised and…" she hesitated, voice momentarily frozen in her throat.
"And?" Kosuzu further prompted, pinching her friend's sides encouragingly.
A single instant later-"Punctual!"She enthusiastically exclaimed.
"Right you are!" A rivulet of giggles slipped out of Kosuzu's lips. She lifted a hand and with one finger and pecked Chizuru's nose playfully. "May I pay a comment?"
Why Kosuzu felt the need to ask permission for that was beyond Chizuru to fathom.
"Surely," Chizuru breathed out, pulling her hands together and placing them demurely at her lap, resisting the urge to rub the sore spot of her beautifully painted nose.
A mesmerizing smile played upon Kosuzu's soft puffy lips as she uttered out, "You look absolutely stunning!"
If her make-up was done lighter, it would be fairly obvious that Chizuru had blushed deeply, cheeks dusted bright pink.
Kosuzu chuckled gently, patting her friend at the back softly. "Time to depart!" she announced, winking playfully once more.
Halted in her tracks and bouncing at the balls of her small feet, Chizuru raised her gaze to closely regard her friend, placing a firm grip around Kosuzu's wrist before she could put any distance between them. "Thank you for everything, Kosuzu-chan. I owe you!" she bowed respectfully. After receiving Kosuzu's jovial smile as incentive and good-luck charm –since one cricket could hardly do wonders enough to salvage Chizuru- she hurriedly moved towards the exit.
She inhaled curtly, breath shaking in anxiety. She allowed her eyes to close for a second, before the last partying words of Kosuzu's started to echo incessantly in her ears.
"Be sure to remember. A girl can bring her family great honor in only one way; by striking a good match. This is your fateful day, Chizuru-chan! Bring honor to your family!"
The horrifying fingers of dread started to poke at the base of her spine treacherously. Her throbbing heart thundered maniacally, an ominous storm of unfamiliar emotions brewing frantically inside of her.
Failure meant that she was doomed forever to wallow in disgrace. Could she handle the severe repercussions that came hand in hand with her poor abilities?
Ultimately her answer did not matter. For the outcome of this meeting would define her fate, minding not of her opinion or life-plans at all.
"Yukimura Chizuru."
The call of her name felt like a cacophony of death, weaving despair over her. How her clumsy steps guided her towards the horrifying doors leading her to the path of certain doom, the Matchmaker's abode, was a mystery to Chizuru.
Feigning indifference she trudged towards the threshold, struggling to suppress any kind of systole or dysphoria and deter her body from perspiring horribly out of pure unadulterated terror.
The moment the Matchmaker's figure slid into view, Chizuru felt a sizzling gaze pinning her down to the ruthless ground, more hefty than the heaviest burden she had ever carried in her small hands.
Not only her gaze was fervently pressing and meticulous, almost accusatory and highly demanding, but her form itself was a sight to behold and certainly a very alarming detail that added to the Matchmaker's famous image and only served to stress Chizuru's discomfort.
She was a truly beautiful woman; the kind of you can only see drawn in an expensive painting. Her dark purple, embellished with pink flowers, kimono, green obi and dashing glimmering ornaments only acted to emphasize the poised, unearthly fascinating air in which she carried herself.
Kimigiku-sama's unquestionable beauty, though, was not the only feature of hers that was renowned. Her sternness and vehement devotion to her work was also publicly recognized.
With those thoughts swirling maniacally in her troubled mind, any remnants of rational thinking left to scatter on the ruthless winds raging without pause even in the most secure chambers of her nous, Chizuru slowly raised her head to cast a fleeting glance at the older woman.
"Near." The instruction –most likely an order, really- was uttered flatly, coldly; voice sharp like ice.
Pure instinct led Chizuru, nearly screamed at her, to obey; an instinct most fundamental and basic, the one that demanded the weaker should kneel before the mightier.
The alarming sense of belonging into the animal kingdom and falling under their feral rules was greatly emphasized when the dignified geiko started roaming the entirety of Chizuru's body searchingly, circling around her in a predatory manner, austere eyes gleaming dangerously.
"You should praise your good luck," the Matchmaker suddenly spoke, "The kimono you are clad in shows little of your flaws."
Chizuru blinked in utter puzzlement. So, being flawed was taken for granted already?
Kimigiku raised a slender hand and tapped her chin skeptically. "I hardly think you are fitted to bear sons."
Cinnamon orbs widened and narrowed only a fraction of a second after. Despite the inner turmoil waging war at the deepest pits of her psyche, she devoted the utmost of her efforts into concealing the blatant signs of her consternation and unease.
The plea to wordlessly endure was chanted like a mantra behind her closed lips.
"Recite the final admonition."
Chizuru swallowed hardly, struggling to rid herself of the dreadful lump that had settled itself inside her throat. "Fulfill your duties calmly and. . ." she gulped, "a-and. . . respectfully," she finally managed to utter out, "Reflect before you snack."
Before you— what?
"I- I mean… act! Reflect before you act!" she rushed to rectify. The only response she received was another order, very much akin to a bark.
"Be seated."
Slowly, albeit very, very nervously, she complied, making sure to demonstrate her knowledge on how to properly claim a seat as a proud woman. The need to prove herself suddenly became much more tremendously urgent-if even possible- after her last magnificent blunder. The Matchmaker arched inquisitive brows at the spectacle.
Almond eyes snapped open. A very disturbing cracking sound resonated from Chizuru's back the moment she made proper contact with the cushion on the floor. Deciding to think nothing of it, she resumed paying very close attention to the geisha.
"Pour the tea," she instructed Chizuru, and the girl promptly moved to comply.
Vehemently willing herself to ignore the alarming feeling of even greater uneasiness, that she felt overwhelming her, she lifter her hands to grasp the tea pot.
Suddenly, Chizuru started cursing herself and her idiocy. Her sheer intention to please caused her to move neurotically. As a result, her sleeve flowed in a very unseemly manner while she was attempting to touch the cutlery pieces.
Praying to whichever god was currently available that the Matchmaker did not notice her curt and awkward move –this probably was the least of her worries, in any case- she curled her fingers around the pot.
"To please your future in-laws you must demonstrate a sense of dignity and refinement. You must also be poised," Kimigiku resumed reciting, still watching very intently. Chizuru could feel her glacial glower boring holes at her small physique.
Far too entranced by the admittedly mundane matter of gripping a tea-pot ,she failed to notice the peculiar whiff of red that flashed across her eyes. A crimson very much different than the one of her sleeves.
A chirrup acted as the most ominous herald she could have ever asked for. For, frankly, the scene unfolding before her very eyes made no sense at all. After a much needed sharp intake of air, a shiver of fear assailed her senses.
Why, for goodness' sake was the cricket in the tea cup?
"H-How—?"
"And silent!" she was hushed by the intense booming of the woman's voice.
Before Chizuru could even register the mere absurdity and horror of the situation, the Matchmaker had already taken her tea cup and was pressing it upon her lips.
"No, no!" Chizuru hollered, making Kimigiku fiercely glare at her in a very poignant manner.
"What did I just say about—"
"Don't drink!" Chizuru warned, bouncing almost aggressively towards the woman.
"Mind your manners, girl!"
"I implore you, don't drink this!"
And yet. . . she did.
Chizuru impulsively leaped, mustering all the strength she stored and directing it wholly into most literally pummeling the geisha, in a desperate attempt to make her spit the mouthful she just sipped.
Unable to even process what truly happened and unforgivably assailed Kimigiku had no choice but to uncouthly open her lips and cough up the contents of her mouth.
"What! Wh-are you—"
But she, regrettably, never got to finish her sentence.
The fool, Kimigiku mentally hollered in indignation.
"Move!" she barked at Chizuru, who paid little to none heed to the remark, busying herself with trying to capture the crimson cricket. "You foolish minx, move!"
Only then Chizuru finally registered that the Matchmaker was addressing to her. Panting after her agonizing and hopeless endeavors to seizure the insect and secure it inside its cage, mostly in an attempt of idiotic respect and remembrance of Kosuzu's kindness, she failed to notice the exact location of her kimono's long sleeves and obi's.
Faintly recognizing the smell of burnt fabric, Chizuru suddenly vaulted, mercilessly drifting all pieces of cutlery in her frantic dance of despair.
"Fire!" she screamed, grabbing the nearby tea-pot to hurtle at the expensive kimono, partly to no avail. In absolute fright she realized the tatami was now lost behind ruthless flames.
Truly unable to entertain any rational thoughts, she started stomping the ground vehemently.
A ripping sound. Her under-kimono was torn into bits.
A smell of brunt silk. Her obi and sleeves seared.
A warm sensation pressing against her skin. The spilled tea.
And one last holler of condemnation. . .
"You will never bring your family honor! Disgrace!"
What else was left to do than wallow in ignominy?
She did not even veer to tryst Kosuzu's worried eyes. She simply ran with a great deal of purpose and haste. Ran away. Retreat.
And yet, shame and disgrace clung to her like a plague, regardless of her running and hurry.
Moments after, her plight of a kimono was discarded, face smeared with paint. Staring at her reflection blinking at her by the basin's water she splashed and rubbed, until there was nothing left.
She was not meant to play this part. It must have been a trick, a fake imitation, a walking joke of a woman, designed by the heavens to provide chances for a good laugh.
She would never pass as a perfect bride. Or a perfect daughter. Destined, cursed and condemned to be a figure of absolute shame tarnishing the glory of the Yukimura Family.
The honor of being a Yukimura offspring rested only upon her shoulders, after Kaoru-kun. . . after Kaoru-kun. . .
And yet she failed. And very miserably at that. She had failed her father, she had failed Kosuzu, she had failed her ancestors, she had failed even Kaoru.
Chizuru heaved out a weary sigh. Unable to hold in her tears, she wailed.
From outside the clinic walls she heard what soon became a unruly commotion. People shouting in disbelief in the proclamation which just reached their ears.
Conscription.
One male, of serving age, from every family had to fulfill his duty to his domain and to his lord by serving under the newly-formed elite group named the Shinsengumi. For many of the poorer families who made Edo their home, it meant that they were to lose their only provider to the throes of war. The prospects in general were horrifying. The conscription would leave the town undefended so that the clans could enjoy playing out their little schemes.
She took a sharp intake of air, her brother was long gone to who knows where, so surely her family would be spared the heartache of a son or father at war. It was local gossip for a long while that the Yukimura boy was missing so there surely could not be a chance that he would be called upon as for all she knew, he had passed on.
She stood by the door to her empty home, fearing the possibilities. What could she do if he was called upon? She couldn't turn around to an appointed official, merely claim her brother no longer lived at this residence and hope for an easy resolution.
She already lived a rather lonely, secluded life. Her father used to always travel to distant towns so that he could help the sick and needy with his knowledge of western medicine. He was finally home for what felt like the first in months, despite how selfish it was of her, she didn't wish for him to be ordered away so he could play medicine man to soldiers at war.
A man, on the other side of the door, cleared his throat. It seemed her hopes were to be dashed. With a clear, authoritative tone, a man spoke, "Is this the Yukimura residence?"
"Y-Yes! One moment, please." She hurried, sliding the door to one side to reveal a rather feminine looking man with sharp indigo eyes looking straight back her. A bout of nervousness passed throughout her and without thinking of the implications, she toyed with a stray strand of her hair in effort to dispel it.
"I carry a declaration," he spoke, "for the man who goes by the name of Kaoru. Is your husband home? I'd prefer to hand it to him personally." His words were calculating and carefully chosen.
"H-husband? Kaoru-kun is my brother and unfortunately, he has..." she had to choose her next words very carefully, the man before her held an expression which she couldn't quite read. "He stepped out earlier today and he is yet to return, if you wish, I will make sure that when he does come home that the message you carry is..." she spoke faster than she planned, her tongue becoming tied. In embarrassment, a hand rose over her mouth and a light blush dusted her otherwise pale cheeks.
"Of course, Yukimura-san," he replied all too quickly, his hand outstretching the document, "I shall entrust this important document in your lovely hands. Please do make sure that it is delivered to him as soon as he returns, I wouldn't wish to make our second meeting one which you would not enjoy."
"L-lovely hands?" She quietly whispered, brown eyes cast down to her own hands trapped in those of the man before her. She claimed the document, timidly bringing her own away from his and back to her chest whilst clutching the scroll tightly as if it was an all too precious treasure. "Thank you for trusting me with this important message for my brother." She bowed deeply to the man, expressing her sincere gratitude.
"May I know your name?" The man asked as his fingers lightly tipped her head up so he could gaze upon her face, traces of the make-up from the earlier meeting with the matchmaker still present. She wasn't the most beautiful of women whilst her face still showing hints of immaturity but her wide, expressive eyes easily made up for it.
"Ah, forgive me," She softly spoke as she straightened herself out, "I am Chizuru, the daughter of the physician Yukimura Kodou."
"Then Chizuru-chan, please forgive me for making this meeting short, but I must attend to my duties much like your brother, I do hope that we can one day meet again." A graceful smile swept across his face and Chizuru found herself smiling back, although out of politeness than anything else. As he left her, she felt her heart sink in her chest. He bought her feeble lies with a smile and she felt positively guilty.
Back in the safety and isolation of her own home, she broke the wax seal on the scroll so that she could study the contents. She knew that her brother, Kaoru, wouldn't be returning to his family home any time soon and this was an incredibly important matter which could not be delayed in the least.
The contents of the letter read just as she expected, threats of dishonor and even death for those considered deserters of the war. The name which her father had so painstakingly built could easily be tarnished if Kaoru did not appear for duty as expected. Thoughts swirled around in her mind, what could a girl such as her possibly do – after all, to men, she was only good for cooking, cleaning and birthing a child.
A decision had to be made and swiftly, the deadline was in exactly two weeks. Fourteen days which included the travel time to the destination, the far off capital city.
She had to speak with her father and urgently, despite knowing precisely what he would say when she enquired as to Kaoru's whereabouts. She frowned and shut her eyes in exhaustion, surely she must have done something to anger the gods above as this was unjust no matter which way she looked at it. Realistically, a decision had to be made in the next day or two.
As morning became afternoon and then faded into evening, time passed by so slowly for Chizuru. The man from earlier spoke of making a second visit should her brother not attend as expected. And despite the calm exterior he showed to her earlier, she did not wish to see what could happen if that exterior was to crack and fade through frustration and anger. She was not dense. She noted the threat beneath his honeyed words and didn't wish to see that threat worked upon especially if it was carried out against her dear father.
The door rattled, signalling her father had returned for the evening.
She had been so lost in her thoughts of what could, what would happen if they dared to defy the conscription letter that the evenings meal had not yet been prepared.
Just as her father was to sigh, he noticed the haunted look on his daughters face and all frustration seeped into fear – the only time he had seen his daughter in such a state was when her brother had upped and disappeared into thin air.
"Chizuru, dear?" He softly spoke, his young daughter looked as if she had seen a ghost. He had heard from the neighbors of the conscription details so when his eyes spotted the documents held so tightly in her hands, his face fell into a frown. "So, Kaoru received one too?"
"A-ah... Father, I did not hear you return." She forced the words out of her lips whilst thoughts still played fresh in her conflicted mind. "Kaoru did receive a notice, he has two weeks to appear before the newly established Shinsengumi and perform his duties as expected." The words just kept coming from her, she did not allow herself to stop and consider how rude she may have been coming across to her father, she was more concerned about making him aware of the letters contents.
"Kaoru does not live. How could a dead man possibly appear before a training encampment?" Her father spoke, shaking his head in disbelief.
This was indeed troublesome for the Yukimura family. Silence fell between the man and his young daughter, there was too much left unsaid regarding her brother's disappearance yet he couldn't bring himself to tell her the devastating truth, not yet.
The evening was an uneventful one with so few spoken words. Their shared meal, which had little taste, served as a reminder that her father's cooking truly was awful. Her thoughts naturally raced to the topic of their earlier discussion, her twin brother.
After bidding her father a good night and murmuring her daily prayer to the distant heavens, she could not settle upon her futon despite the warmth it offered her. Memories of both Kaoru and her playing in the street, dancing happily together and making little flower circlets for each other flooded her mind. She willed them to go, to stop paining her but they persisted.
As she always did, she eventually found herself seeking the beauty of her trusty looking glass. It never failed to amaze her at how such a wonderful, ornate piece could reflect one's own face.
There were only a few differences between her and her brother, their eyes were one. Whilst hers were wide, expressive and shone a honey shade in the right light, his would narrow at the first mention of anything which he felt indifferent towards and often hid his true intentions, only to be revealed in the midst of a maniacal personality shift. Where she preferred to wear a smile on her lips, his default expression was a down turned frown. The memories of her brother from childhood truly were just that, idealized memories, the Kaoru she knew in his final days at home was... a different man. But, that was when the realization hit her, after all, she was her brothers twin and thus they shared the same face.
Her thoughts trailed back to the conscription document sat to the right of her futon.
Kaoru...
If she, the remaining daughter of the Yukimura family, could not protect her family's honor – who possibly could? If it meant that she was to forever conceal her identity, forge a falsified path in life and become responsible for a duty of another, she would.
For her Father, for her family.
She would become Yukimura Kaoru.
Authors' Note
Please, prepare for the maddening roller-coaster we are all about to embark. After all, there are many Hakuoki characters to be introduced. No fan shall be left unsatisfied! Keep your eyes peeled for our beloved bishounen.
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Thank you for reading!