As long as he can remember, his home has been his master.
He can only faintly remember the heat of the flames that shaped him. And then, he is at Hijikata's side.
It is a turbulent time to live in and Horikawa does his best to make his master proud.
"Have you heard?" Kashuu asks one afternoon, fingers combing through his beautiful brown locks. "They are getting you a partner."
He hums, watching the other sword tend to his hair. "Hijikata-san said something like that a while ago."
Kashuu watches him, eyes critical until a smile blooms on his face. "I hope you get a nice partner: someone nice and not like Yasusada."
A whine sounds behind them and Yamatonokami launches himself at his partner and they both tumble into the garden.
"Get off of me, bastard!" Kashuu wails as they wrestle on the ground.
Covering his mouth, Horikawa laughs.
Hijikata takes him to a smith and asks for an uchigatana made to match his wakizashi.
"I am Izuminokami Kanesada. I am made by a descendant of the Kanesada smiths."
Izuminokami Kanesada comes home from the forge dressed in a light blue haori, the coat of the Shinsengumi.
"Kane-san is so cool, isn't he?" Horikawa gushes while Yamatonokami greets the newcomer – their comrades and his partner - with warm greetings and a gente smile.
A large hand falls atop of his head and he looks up to see Nagasone grinning like a proud father.
"Whenever you're mad at him, I will always lend you an ear." Kashuu smirks beside Nagasone with his arms crossed.
Eyes sparkling, surrounded by loved ones, Horikawa nods and a fond smile stretches across his lips.
He has seen blood before, has also drawn blood from countless and has already been coated by the red liquid but his heart feels heavy and his throat seems to be blocked by something invisible whenever he remembers the fateful events that have ripped them apart and the blood has been split and the lives have been lost in the process.
Kashuu and Yamatonokami had always been at each other's throat and it was the same when they were getting ready for the newest raid.
"I want to go too." Yamatonokami whined as he watched Kashuu putting on the light blue haori.
"Too bad." The other huffed and the haori fluttered as he twirled around. "I was chosen."
He gave his partner a triumphant smirk and the other retaliated with a glare as Kashuu followed their master when they set out.
It happens suddenly. Okita collapses and his sword, the one made by Kiyomitsu, is nothing but broken pieces.
Okita is carried out by his comrades but Kashuu, however, is left behind, coated in the blood of the slain and the tears streaming down his face, fading away in a place stinks of blood and death.
Horikawa reaches for him but Izuminokami holds him back with a firm hand.
"Oy, we are leaving." He says, Nagasone by his side with a small nod and eyes fixed on the dawning horizon.
"As a sword, you know Kashuu can't be repaired." Nagasone rumbles as they guide him after their masters, ignoring the stares and whispers about 'Mibu's Wolves' and 'Ikeada Inn'.
The dawn sky looks beautiful as they march back but the only thing on his mind is the image of Kashuu, dyed in red with teary eyes filled fear.
Yamatonokami didn't break down.
He stood firm, eyes hard as they told him about Kashuu.
With a sigh, he excused himself and left to watch over his master.
Later that night, they – thetsukumogami – heard it: a heart-breaking wail of grief and loneliness.
Yamatonokami locks himself in his master's room, lending his sick master his support. They almost never see him outside of Okita's room.
They know he is shaken by his master's illness and Kashuu's fate and they give him space to recover.
"They are sending us away." Yamatonokami says one morning as they sit outside the room where the sick Okita resides in.
Nagasone makes a small noise of acknowledgement as he crosses his arms. "We've heard." He says.
The silence is deafening as they sit, soaking in the familiar feeling of having friends and comrades nearby.
Horikawa wants to say something like 'We will meet again' or 'You will be back on the front line with us in no time' to comfort his friend but he knows the truth.
The illness that eats away Okita's strength is not something that can be cured. It can be slowed down, yes but it never goes away.
Briefly, he wonders how Kashuu would take it if he was here with them.
He knows they are fighting a lost battle as soon as he sees the effects the enemies' guns have on living things.
He has seen those who fight alongside his master falls down but he had never seen such a massacre.
Swords are nothing if they can't get close enough to strike and guns are doing just that as their rains of bullets cut down whoever comes too close.
"The age of swords is coming to the end." Nagasone sighs as they sit outside the room where their masters are holding their meeting to find a way to counter their enemies' attacks.
Izuminokami closes his eyes and let the wind caress his midnight locks. "Yes but I have no complaint about being born." His voice is low as if he fears that their conversation would disturb the meeting going on behind the door.
Sighing, Horikawa turns his eyes to the sky above. It is a beautiful day and the sky is the same color as the haori that Izuminokami wears to battles. It brings a nostalgic feeling of the days where it had been easier with Kashuu and Yamatonokami by their sides.
"I miss them…" He mumbles, and by the sad looks that cross his comrades' face, he knows that they share the same thought.
There is a warm hand on his head and he looks up to meet the eyes of Izuminokami. "They wouldn't want to see that sad look on your face." He murmurs and his eyes, those that share the same color as his, are sincere.
"We can't change the past." Nagasone is a solid presence as his hand rests on his shoulder. "We should keep moving forward and fight for their part." His voice is gentle and the warmth in his eyes is so familiar that it hurts just by looking into them.
His voice is gone and he is sure that there are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
And he prays – to whomever he does not care – that he would never have to say goodbye to those who are dear to his heart.
His prayer was not heard.
Nagasone followed his master to the bitter end and neither Izuminokami nor Horikawa was there to witness his last moment.
Izuminokami sits by his side outside the room where their master is wrestling with paperwork and strategy.
There is a haori – Izuminokami's – draped across his shoulder, keeping the cold night wind from biting into his small body.
"Please don't ever leave me, Kane-san." His voice is small and fragile as the words escape his lips.
Izuminokami's hand is warm as it settles on his own and when their eyes meet, his partner flashes him a confident grin. "Sure, as long as you never leave my side."
The smile on his face is sad and yet his cheeks are a little hot and he whispers in reply. "Well, I am your partner after all, Kane-san. My place is with our master and you."
The smile on Izuminokami's lips is gentle as he ruffles his partner's short raven hair. "Partner, huh?"
His voice is so warm and Horikawa knows that he would never forget this moment.
A sword duty is to follow its master's wish.
Horikawa knows that yet as he hears his master's words, he can't help but questions the decision.
"You know I would have stayed if I could, don't you?" Izuminokami says with fingers entwined with his.
He nods, slowly and hesitantly.
"Serve our master well, Kunihiro." Izuminokami whispers in a tender voice and again, he nods.
Their eyes meet and Horikawa can see the sadness in the eyes with the same shade of blue as his.
"I will be waiting." Izuminokami declares with eyes sharpen by determination. With that, he turns and follows Tetsunosuke as the young page carries out the order he was given.
Watching his partner's retreating back, he shouts after the figure clads in the light blue haori. "I promise to come back so Kane-san, please wait for me!"
The sound of guns is loud.
He stays with his master's side with a dread sensation in his gut.
Something is not right.
That thought rings in his mind until he feels something splatter on his face and hears a grunt from his master.
The blade in Hijikata's hand – the Horikawa Kunihiro – hits the ground as its wielder falls down beside it.
And he stands there, frozen and numb.
"Hijikata-san?" His voice comes out trembling and small.
He has seen death before but it has never been his master's.
He falls to the ground and the tears start.
He let it go and wails his grief out.
The salty tears mix with the blood on his face – his master's – and yet he doesn't care.
He is alone with nothing but ghosts as companies.
The sea is dark and cold.
He thinks. His eyes – once so soft with happiness – now are blank and lifeless as he stares into the never-ending darkness of the seafloor.
"I will be waiting." Izuminokami's voice rings in his head.
A sad smile crosses his lips as he looks up, hoping to see a ray of light despite knowing it would never happen. "Sorry, Kane-san. It seems like I won't be coming back."
He feels a pull and a voice softly whisper for him to come and when he opens his eyes, he is standing in a small forge.
The first thought crosses his mind is his partner.
"Excuse me, has Kane-san, no, Izuminokami Kanesada come here?"
The person who greets him is clad in white and their eyes are a beautiful shade of gold. "He is outside, waiting for you." They say and lead him toward the door.
He doubts he could think of a better surprise as Izuminokami's familiar hand ruffles his hair and that same confident grin blooms on his partner's face. "Welcome home, Kunihiro." He says. "You kept your promise." Izuminokami's voice has a soft edge and his eyes are tender.
"You sure took your time, Kunihiro." A familiar voice sounds behind his partner and he sees familiar faces as Kashuu flashes him a welcoming smile.
Yamatonokami smiles gently next to his partner and pats him on the head. "It is good to see you again."
Tears threaten to spill and he manages in a quiet voice. "I am home, everyone."
Their mission is to keep the flow of time safe from being altered by the Time Retrograde Army and Horikawa is happy that he can be useful again even when the age of swords has long been over.
They have been waiting to reunite with Nagasone – he has heard from their new master that Nagasone is rumored to be one of the hard-to-find swords – and then this place can finally feel like home.
"You know, there is an uchigatana who goes by the name Yamanbagiri Kunihiro." Kashuu mentions once as they are working in the kitchen.
He hums as he continues chopping the vegetables. "Oh, do you think we are related?" He humors the other with a small smile.
"Well, Yamanbagiri Kunihiro is shy so if you don't make the first move, I doubt he would ever approach you." Kashuu warned before the kettle screeches and he gushes over to deal with it.
The day after, he nearly bumps into Yamanbagiri in the hallway with a bunch of laundry in his arms.
"Ah, sorry." He apologies.
They stand there, for a while until Yamanbagiri shifts the paper in his arm and tugs at his hood. "It's nothing." He mumbles. "I will see you later, brother." And he leaves, cloak fluttering in his wake.
Horikawa stands there, stunned before a laugh escapes him and there is this fluffy feeling inside his heart that makes him so content.
When Yamabushi Kunihiro comes, Horikawa greets him with a sunny grin with Yamanbagiri by his side and Izuminokami waiting outside to meet his other brother.
"You seem to get along well with your brothers." Izuminokami remarks as they work on the fields.
He laughs because unlike him, Izuminokami and his senior – Kasen Kanesada – interact through arguments and competitions.
"It is nice to be here, isn't it, Kane-san?" He asks and watches as his partner colors and stammers.
Nagasone finally arrives and he gives them each a pat on the head like he used to do in the past.
"Welcome home, Nagasone-san." Horikawa says, eyes sparkling with joy as his friends – Izuminokami, Kashuu and Yamatonokami – surround the newest arrival with eagerness and his brothers linger outside the forge to meet their brother's – and now, theirs – comrade.
Nagasone replies in the same gruff tone as he always did in the past. "I am home."
Finally, it – this citadel – feels like home.