The Photograph

Part 1 - 1866

Okita came through the gates to Nishi-honganji Temple, the Shinsengumi headquarters, to one of the oddest scenes he'd ever encountered. Commander Kondo was sitting in full uniform on a stool with his face powdered white and looking frighteningly stern. Behind him hung a curtain of some pale fabric and in front of him was a fussy man in a black Western style suit with a box mounted on a tripod. The front side of the box had a round shiny object on it and the back had a heavy black curtain attached around the edges. The fussy man would disappear under the curtain and then pop back out and order his assistant to adjust parts of Kondo's clothes or equipment or make-up. The comedian trio, commonly known as Harada Sanosuke, Nagakura Shinpachi, and Todo Heisuke, were horsing around behind the fussy man at a safe distance from his equipment, doing their darnedest to make Kondo smile but it wasn't working. Hijikata Toshizo, demon Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi, was leaning against a pillar, an expression of aggrieved suffering on his face. Souji sidled up to him.

"So what's going on?"

"Katchan is preserving his mug for posterity."

The fussy man gave a few short orders and then took a leather cap off the round metal piece on the box. Kondo sat stiffly despite a persistent fly buzzing circles around his head. The comedians redoubled their efforts.

"He's doing what?" Souji asked.

"It's a Western photograph." Hijikata said the last word carefully, as it wasn't Japanese.

"Ah! So that boxy thing is the camera." Souji was just as careful with his new foreign word. He'd heard of western cameras and seen a few photographs, but had never seen one being made. It looked uncomfortable.

"It's ridiculous," Hijikata snorted. "We have a job to do and he's dressing up like a kabuki actor. Those three idiots are acting like five-year-olds instead of troop captains, and you're not even here half the time."

Souji lifted an eyebrow. Toshi was obviously out of sorts today and ready to find fault with everything, but Okita only said mildly, "It was my day off. I went to the temple like I always do."

"To make cows eyes at that girl."

"I like being with her. She makes me feel alive." He would not let Toshi goad him into an argument and spoil a day spent with O-Chisa.

"How alive can she make you feel if you're not even having sex with her yet?" Hijikata snorted. "Everything's falling apart. Katchan's already feeling his daimyo status, you're lovesick…what else is going to happen?" He stalked away and Souji settled onto a stone bench, watching the comedians. The variety of expressions those three could make was truly impressive. Even more impressive was Kondo's refusal to give in to their shenanigans as he stoically glared at the camera.

Finally, the photographer put the leather cap back onto the lens. Kondo took a deep breath and waved away the fly, still zipping in circles above his head. He moved with dignity through the courtyard and made his way to his quarters to wash and change, not even bothering to admonish his captains for their behavior. Harada, Nagakura, and Todo turned their horseplay onto each other, throwing good-natured jibes and mock punches. Harada got Todo in a headlock and started scrubbing his knuckles against the younger man's scalp amid much laughter and yelping.

Souji just smiled softly. The long walk back from the temple had tired him and he didn't feel like joining in. It was enough to sit in the sun and watch them and dream of O-Chisa, replaying their day over in his head. They never did much except walk through the temple gardens, admiring the flowers or the clouds, and maybe talk about things they liked or thought. Not much was ever said of the future, although she knew of his illness and its effects. Her mother had died of the same, after all. She understood better than anyone what he was dealing with. He never told her about his work. She didn't know what he did. As far as she was concerned, he taught swordsmanship at a dojo, that was all. He didn't want her tainted by the Shinsengumi's reputation through associating with him. The less she knew about it, the better.

Souji was unaware that the photographer had ordered his assistant to make him a new glass negative plate and had slipped it into place in the camera. Fussy he might well be, but Kaburabi Minejiro knew the new art of photography and he had never seen such a likely portrait subject as the young samurai sitting on the bench. His very stillness as he watched the other men was essential to a good, clear picture, his setting provided good contrast, and the young man himself would catch any lady's eye. His features were regular, his lips slightly turned up in a smile, eyes crinkled a little at the corners, and there was an ethereal look to him overall. One could almost think that if one blinked, he would be gone. A picture of this young man could pull people into his studio who wouldn't normally give it a second glance. Kaburabi hummed a child's tune under his breath. If he could get through it three times in this lighting before the samurai moved, he'd have his picture.

It was his lucky day. He'd just snapped the cover back on over the lens when his subject jumped up off the bench to follow the other three samurai as they left the courtyard for somewhere in the back of the headquarters. Kaburabi and his assistant repacked the camera gear, carefully stacking the glass plates in their light-proof holders into a basket that his assistant would carry back to his shop. He carried the camera himself as they headed to the gate. There was no one left in the area except the gate guards; he was hoping one of them could tell him who the young samurai was.

"Sorry," one said to his inquiry. "We weren't paying attention. Our job is to watch who approaches the gate from the outside, not what's going on inside."

Well, it didn't matter. A face like that would sell his services even if he didn't know who the man was. He could always ask when he returned with the prints made from the Commander's sitting. He headed back to his studio to develop the glass plates.