A/N: This oneshot was originally written in Greek, but I somehow found the willpower and inspiration to translate it into English. I would describe it as quite random -and bittersweet-, a couple scenes from the Hakuoki Universe that suddenly popped up into my head, hazy at first, but as soon as I decided to write them down, they slowly begun to take shape and form. It was also a chance for me to write something in my mother language, which I have shamefully neglected in order to exercise my English writing style. After publishing the Greek Edition I felt a very strong urge to have it published in English too, so there you have it. I surely hope you will enjoy this little attempt of mine.
Dedicated to my dear otonari-chan, Wings Of Silver Wishes, for her generous support, beautiful gifts and the enjoyable moments she allowed me to spend in her company. Thank you for your beautiful stories that always stand as inspiration for me and offer me an amazing time reading them.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hakuoki.
Winter
In
Kyoto
"Souji."
The strangely familiar voice echoed inside his ears and stirred his thoughts, interrupting him from the little delirium of thundering silence that danced inside his head. His beautiful green eyes, that often appeared sharper than the blade on his side finally managed to focus back into the present.
"Hajime-kun?" he simply said, his voice laced in a questioning tinge, showing his –usually silent- friend that he recognized his voice and his attention was drawn to him.
Saito's blue eyes stood frozen before Souji. When finally the Captain of the First Division of the Shinsengumi raised his eyebrow, only then Saito blinked and allowed a forgotten breath to escape his lips.
"You looked distracted."
A playful smile appeared onto the lips of the brown-haired samurai, which Hajime could only perceive as "So what?"
Saito Hajime never was a man that enjoyed talking. He did not like one bit the fact that Souji now tried to forcefully make him talk with simple gestures and face expressions. Usually, Hajime would be the one to "talk without a voice" and could inspire answers from his interlocutor with a simple raising of his eyebrows.
Hajime sighed silently and finally decided to offer an explanation. "You don't usually get distracted."
Souji, on the other hand, could not decide if he should take Saito's words as an accusation, a simple comment or maybe mockery. And what if he was distracted? He had a pile of matters to think about. The subject that was now plaguing his mind in particular was of great importance and- and. . .
". . .What on earth was it?" he murmured bringing his hand on his chin with a very distinct sense of puzzlement.
It was Saito's turn to raise his fine eyebrow questioningly. Souji never seemed so. . . was lost the best choice of wording perhaps?
The truth was that Okita Souji never was a passionate supporter of the hanamachi. And at the hanamachi they found themselves at this very moment. It was not exactly that he felt offended to enjoy himself in Shimabara, but it was also known that it was not his favorite pastime. The sole reason he would agree to come to Sumiya was actually very simple. Sake here was exceptionally good. Not even Hajime could question that.
The pale man could somewhat understand Okita. He never thought about visiting the hanamachi for the company of oiran, geiko or maiko either.
In stark and sharp contrast to Shinpachi who desperately tried, by attacking not only sake but whatever else he deemed able to raise his chances to get on with a geiko and finally become popular as Sano, who, on the other hand, had more women at his feet than he could count, Saito, much like Souji, took part in those magnificent sallies for the sole purpose of enjoying good sake and Sumiya's dishes, that so wonderfully tingled the stomach. Oh and to take care of their drunk friends on their way back.
Sitting here, though, drinking excellent sake and filling their bellies with delicious food and in the company of beautiful women could not be described as nothing but an enjoyable situation. Or, at the very least, not distasteful. After all, even the infamous Miburo officers were men as well. The fact that they were not as fanatic as Shinpachi was far from implying that they did not enjoy themselves in Shimabara.
Then, why did Souji look so pensive? Okita never was a man you could catch distracted. On the contrary. He was always more than ready to dart a very well studied comment, successfully making his interlocutor either pissed beyond salvation –for example Hijikata- or extremely awkward –for example Heisuke, especially if the point in question was that the youngest Captain could never be as popular to women as Sanosuke was.
Now, not only he did not have any sarcastic remarks to dart –not even a hint of a haiku from Hijikata's personal collection in order to gloriously ridicule him- but not even his face would emit the usual aura of an insufferable teaser, who could, in all honestly, immediately unsheathe his katana and render every enemy in his vicinity incapacitated, to make them fall on the ground dead, their soulless and pale carcasses painted with scarlet blood after encountering his unbeatable blade. No. Not even that. And Hajime found himself worry for his friend.
Few could understand the true nature of the relationship between the two samurai and even fewer could distinguish that both, through their exceptional and special particularities, could understand what troubled the other man right away. Two very different personalities. And despite all that, if one could use conventional words as "friend" for Okita Souji and Saito Hajime they would. The two of them stood so close, and in a very peculiar way so far, because of the very nature of their personalities, that they even surprised themselves.
Even the way they walked next to each other, the manner according to which they were usually seated was mysteriously, inwardly –and quite frankly involuntarily- predetermined and very specific. Only a handful of the soldiers were aware of the reason why Saito always marched at Okita's left. It was not out of respect*, per se, but because of a silent agreement between two extremely capable samurai. Simple as that.
More than a few times, Saito and Souji fought side by side, handling the blades of their katana so masterfully that even high born samurai would feel envious of them. But Saito Hajime was left-handed. And Okita understood this very fact far more deeply than others believed he did or than he let them believe. Each time their sharpened swords were readied to dance a cotillion of blood, in honor of the Shinsengumi, incisive blades emerged from their scabbards, each one's coming from a different side. By walking in this manner, Souji on the right and Hajime on the left, they could parry the blood bath and trail of death their katanas spread before them, and salvage their fellow-warrior from unnecessary bloodshed.
Quite simple. And yet few could comprehend it. And, in all honestly, the men themselves never actually stopped to wonder why things came to be shaped in such a way. It was a natural, absolutely instinctive reaction that demanded no further analysis. At least for the two of them.
In a few words, Saito could, quite proudly, declare that he could sympathize, understand, even read Okita Souji and his reactions, simple by instinct perhaps. As far as it was humanly possible, of course, because Souji was, deep down, far more intricate than even his closest people could ever imagine. And even though Hajime was quite certain he could perceive a couple of things concerning Okita far more clearly than others, now he might have to revoke his previous statement.
There was no reason for Souji to look so unusually pensive, right? Or maybe there was?
The last words, though, that escaped Souji's lips allowed Hajime to exhale a breath of relief, but also puzzlement. Apparently, not even Souji himself knew what took place inside his head. In a way, this could be considered favorable for Hajime. It would mean that he probably won't have to take back his statement. But, at the same time, it was also not so favorable. What could have made Souji so pensive? And even Souji himself was unaware of it. . .
"Hajime-kun, please stop looking at me weirdly," laughed Souji, as he brought the little sake cup to his lips. He knew that his friend's silence meant many things as an answer. "I was not distracted," he stated innocently and pulled the corners of his mouth into a small playful smile.
Saito snorted mockingly and filled his cup one more time.
"Okay, maybe I was," Souji finally admitted, scratching the nape of his neck apologetically.
"Souji, Saito! Just so you know. This looks very damn ugly," Shinpachi hollered, while devouring his food mercilessly and taking another very brave sip of sake.
"I fail to understand the meaning of your words," Hajime simply said, without omitting to glare at the muscled man.
"Hajime-kun, it's not very normal to look at each other this way-" Heisuke paused in order to stifle a very fierce hiccup. "when, ya know. . ."
"When there are a bunch of beauties around? Was that what you were about to say, Heisuke-kun?" Souji finished, somehow managing to inhibit a laugh. But, Heisuke never got to answer this question, because the girl at his side decided to pour him more sake at that very moment, effectively distracting him.
"Whoa, Sano-san, please treat us more often, yeah! I feel like I am in heaven." Heisuke's voice slightly trembled due to the excessive amount of drinks that already made their way towards his stomach, and very soon towards his liver as well, in order to completely destroy the organ. . .
"Who on earth told you that I was going to pay for you to drink?" the large samurai scoffed and brought his cup closer to the geiko standing next to him for her to fill it. "I made this mistake once. No more. Each one of us pays for his own drinks." he added. The girl, with cheeks so profoundly red that one could distinguish their bright deep color even beyond her pure white make-up, promptly took care of Harada, at the same time trying not to spill the expensive wine. And she indeed was very close to spilling it, particularly after the bright smile the red-haired man flashed at her direction.
"Sano-san is as popular as ever," Souji commented inwardly.
"But, Sano-san, the sake we ordered is far too expensive for my pocket," the younger man complained.
"And should I care? You have pillaged my own pocket enough as it is."
"Sano-san. . ."
"Souji, why don't you let the beauty next to you-" Shinpachi smiled widely at the little maiko "-to serve you? Much better than always looking at Saito, ne?" he finished and laughed thunderously for reasons that Souji was still unable to pinpoint.
"Hm." The green-eyed samurai murmured and laughed impishly. "If this is all about her serving me-" he started." Let her serve me." He abruptly turned towards the girl and flashed a –not even slightly innocent- smile. "Serve me, then."
The girl's body jerked as if she was just then hit by lightning. "Right away, sir!" and with hands as steady as she could manage she poured him sake.
"That's not the point," Shinpachi insisted.
"Oh, should she fill Hajime-kun's cup as well? Come on, Hajime-kun, offer it to the girl. Don't be shy!"
"Souji!"
But the only response to Shinpachi's desperate holler was Souji's muffled laugh. "And who told you, Shinpachi-san, that I did not have a girl in mind all this time and I did not talk to Hajime-kun about her?"
Saito blinked. "Girl?" he muttered, far too lowly for anyone to properly hear.
"Really, Souji? About time," Sano commented, regarding Souji with ever noble intention to believe him. But this only remained as a simple intention. Something within him whispered that this was nothing but another joke, a comment of Souji's in order for him to parry an unwelcome situation.
"You have to tell us who!" Heisuke enthusiastically exclaimed. "Do I know the chick? Where did you fish her? Is she good? I mean good good?" Soon he put a halt to his blabbering, only to cup his mouth with his hands, apparently surprised with one personal, completely sudden discovery. "The girl we ran into the other day during patrol with Chizuru? Kao-something, was it? I told you she had the hots for you, but you made fun of me. Again."
Souji sighed and huffed an auburn strand of hair away from his eyes. "And my answer will be the same as that time. If you think she had the hots for me, ya never going to surpass Sano-san."
Heisuke preferred –involuntarily or not- to ignore the very last comment. "You mean that's not her? Damn. . . she was a nice piece."
"Whoa, Heisuke-kun," Okita exclaimed in mirth. "Did you really find her a nice piece? Only one reason for that," he snickered conspiratorially. "Perhaps because she resembles our Chizuru-chan?"
And suddenly and abruptly Heisuke and Shinpachi simultaneously spat out their drinks, effectively scaring the women around them.
"And I told ya, that they did not seem alike to me at all!"
"Whoa, whoa! What's the meaning of this, Heisuke? Did you just say that you find Chizuru-chan a nice piece?" Nagakura accused, stressing the last words far more fiercely than he probably should.
"Oi! When did I ever say that, Shinpachi-san?"
"You mean you don't like her?"
"I didn't say that either! You are drunk. At least keep track of the entire conversation before you start blaming me!"
"So you do like her? You punk, what the hell are you doing to Chizuru-chan during your patrols?" and before anyone could react, a very intoxicated Shinpachi had already grabbed an –equally intoxicated- Heisuke and was shaking him violently.
"Shinpachi, calm down! You are half seas over. Sit down and leave Heisuke alone."
"You're one to talk, Sano? You're flirting with her every chance you get!"
"I am not flirting with her, you idiot! I am just trying to be a gentleman!"
"Oooo, look here, Hajime-kun. Shinpachi-san, who so proudly declares himself a colander when it comes to alcohol, is now totally drunk. And not only that, but he only just stared fighting over our nice, sweet and beloved Chizuru-chan."
Saito let out a tired sigh. "Souji, don't provoke him."
"Our nice, sweet and beloved Chizuru-chan? What's that, Souji?" Shinpachi hollered once more. "When you said you had a woman in mind you meant her?"
Souji, calm as a monk, never stopped relishing the wonderful taste of his food. "Shinpachi-san, don't be so loud! My head is ringing."
"Like I care!"
"Shinpachi-san, you are acting like a mad man in love. Try to relax and enjoy the female company around you. You were then one who asked for them, anyway."
"Damn you! Souji, I can't understand if you are making fun of my passion for women or that I cannot have the only woman we have closer to us than anyone else."
"Would you like me to analyze the practical r-"
"The hell I want!" he said and banged his cup against the floor with never-before-seen ferocity. "Sano, take off your clothes and fucking dance! I want to see your belly move! Only that can make me feel better now."
Silence. Uncomfortable silence.
Sano's eyes opened as widely as humanly possible. "What-?" Harada murmured in disbelief, while Heisuke laughed from the bottom of his lungs, folded like a baby on the floor. The women currently present inside the room greatly struggled not to allow their snickering to free itself from their delicate mouths. That most certainly did not come out right. Not at all.
"Shin- Shinpachi-san, we just. . .hahaha. . . we just now made fun of Hajime-kun and Souji, but you, man, are ten times worse! Hahaha, you got angry over a woman and now ya ordering a man to dance naked to calm you down? That's so sick!"
"Dumbass! I will show you what sick means when I throw the freaking tatami over your head and make it a damn collar, Heisuke!"
"Explain." His steady voice echoed through the silent street. Only the rhythmic meeting of their shoes with the cold ground could dissipate the heavy silence. Until Hajime decided to demand an explanation.
"And what is that you want me to explain, Hajime-kun?" Okita feigned ignorance so innocently that Saito had to veer and glare at him.
"Something is bothering you." It was more of a statement, rather than a question.
Souji simply shrugged casually. "No. Nothing." He drew in a small breath. "Nothing special." And when he finally released this very breath, it formed a timid white wisp of air in the midst of the winter night's frost.
Hajime had great difficulty believing those words. "Is this about Yukimura?" he finally mustered the will to ask. Souji's striking green eyes snapped at his left, only to meet a pair of glacial blue ones.
"Honestly," Saito emphasized.
"Honestly." Souji parroted, relinquishing the previous joviality that only moments before laced his distinct voice. Hajime nodded once to encourage him. The answer he received, though, was far simpler and yet far more intricate than the young man expected.
"I know not," he finally offered, turning his gaze towards the dark sky, that today stood moon-less, allowing the stars to dance over a veil of distinct and melancholic obscurity.
Many moments of stifling silence elapsed. Not even a scream of a wandering ronin, not even a distant echo of blades that fought for dominance could be heard. Darkness. Silence.
When suddenly. "Hajime-kun." And Saito finally veered again to properly regard Souji.
"Yes." His voice was barely audible, a very distant melody that escaped from his rosy lips.
"Everything is strange, don't ya think?" Saito only creased his brows. "In Kyoto, I mean. Feels as if our days in Shieikan were nothing but a far away tale, like those Kondou-san like to read before going to bed. You know, those about brave warriors."
Saito nodded affirmatively. But. "We live in Kyoto for quite a while. Why did that start troubling you now?"
Souji shrugged once more and brought one hand to rest over the scabbard of his katana. "Everything became even stranger. Especially after the-" he lowered his voice into a whisper. "-Ochimizu. And especially after her arrival."
"To that I cannot help but agree," Saito responded and there it came, the familiar veil of awkward silence to rule again. Strangely, moments later, Hajime was the one that discarded this very veil and threw it away, hopefully for good.
"Does it bother you?" he asked but soon decided to further clarify. "That she is with us. That we have to keep conducting research concerning its results. That we have to keep proposing the same pseudo-dilemma: Seppuku or Ochimizu."
Hajime now felt very strange regarding his behavior. He rarely made use of such long sentences. And even more rarely he brought up matters as sensitive as those. And at the dangerous back streets of Kyoto to boot.
"Me?" asked Souji with a great sense of innocent and genuine puzzlement tangled into his voice and green eyes alike. "Hajime-kun, you should have known better. I simply act as Shinsengumi's blade. I am in no position to speak of everything that bothers me."
"Souji," Saito stressed the name of his companion with every very clear intention to chide him. "You very well know that things do not stand like so. This never deterred you from voicing your opinion. Or opposing your superiors."
Souji could no longer withhold his sarcastic laughter. "You are probably right, Hajime-kun. I just might try to avoid answering the question."
Hajime's eyes now bore a silent intensity, as they veered to regard Okita once more. "What is your answer, then?" he further pressed.
"I was honest before. I don't know. Really."
And even after those words were paid, Hajime was still left unsatisfied. The manner in which he also moved his hand to rest over the scabbard of his own sheathed blade gave off a feeling of subtle agitation instead.
In vain, Souji attempted to abolish the enervation of the moment with a smile. For, during that very exact heartbeat, ferocious groans of pain threatened to overwhelm his entire existence and intense coughing pouring from deep within him stifled his every attempt before it could even properly commence.
He devoted his entire being into refusing to kneel, collapse onto the ground and betray all that he so greatly struggled to keep hidden with every ounce of strength left in his body. He dedicated the entirety of his soul and psyche in order to conceal from Hajime's eyes the drops of carmine blood that mercilessly and violently erupted from the depths of his tortured lungs, towards his wounded, due to fierce coughing fits, throat and finally concluded onto his now amazingly pale lips.
"Souji."
"I am fine." He waved his hand dismissively. "Pay no heed. It's just a simple cough."
And Hajime knew. He knew but he dared not speak. Instead, he tried to participate into the play that Souji himself wished and designed for him to play. "The night is chilly and bleak. And you were already sensitive due to the cold you caught the other day. It would be wise to move quickly."
"You are right, Hajime-kun."
Saito exhaled.
The terrible matter concerning humans that so inhumanly were turned into Rasetsu, concerning Ochimizu, and concerning the deep debt they felt they held that guided them to continue experimenting with the said drug, due to steel, impersonal orders they were previously given, stirred and decimated the calmness of the group once-called Roshigumi. It was nothing new to discuss; nothing new for Hajime, nothing new for Souji and nothing new for their other companions.
He wanted to press Yukimura's matter more intently, though. By now it was more than obvious that her presence had disrupted the -relevant- peacefulness of the officers of the Shinsengumi in ways none could have imagined. And the girl herself had done nothing at all. Nothing provoking, insulting, treacherous nothing she was not supposed to have done. But the impact she had on their lives had long since departed the stage where you could simply measure it with usual normal standards. Even the previous, obviously simpleminded and naive conversation inspired by excessive doses of sake, stood as stentorian proof that something had already begun to change. What would that be, where it would lead, why and how were questions still left unanswered.
Like Souji pointed out before, things felt very strange. And exactly because they were so strange, further changes could only add to deteriorate and impede the process of defining and clarifying the situation. The only thing they were able to do was wait patiently until the scroll of their turbulent lives would finally unravel completely; the scroll containing the story of the Shinsengumi, of simple country men, men of fallen heritage that gathered under the title Ronin Samurai and finally transformed into brave warriors, fighting under the support of the Aizu Domain, sharp, glistening katanas dancing their lethal dances under the flag that gloriously read 'Makoto', meaning Sincerity.
And honor. Honor to live as a samurai, honor to live your life walking a certain road, a certain path named Bushido, the Way of the Warrior, of the Samurai.
Hajime and Souji suddenly and involuntarily found their firm bodies standing still, taking a deep breath, their eyes blinking.
A small cherry blossom petal made its way before their path. And as it proudly and innocently demonstrated its lovely and unique dance the two pairs of cyan and verdant eyes stood there dumbfounded. The eyes of the two men desperately followed the beautiful flower, up until it finally softly swirled one final time and flew away.
And only then they realized, staring beyond the cherry blossom. That that very night was not moon-less, that the white glimmering sphere still proudly existed, but small, demure and hidden from the backstreets of Kyoto. They simply needed to pay a closer look in order for it to appear before them. And, as if a magic spell was suddenly casted, their up until that very moment dark steps were wondrously illuminated by the soft white luminescence of the moon, that only now just started a brand new trip towards to becoming a full moon, a Mangetsu.
But, regardless of this moment's mirth, they very well knew, that the full moon would show its unparalleled beauty to the world only to eventually die out. And from this point onwards only to offer its place to the next newborn moon to continue its magnificent path.
* Location: Hanamachi is the general name of the red-light district. Shimabara is one of Kyoto's hanamachi. Sumiya is a very famous place to have fun and eat in Shimabara, where everything we saw in the series took place.
* About left and right: From what I have learned, Samurais had to walk at the left side of the road, in order to prevent the scabbards of their swords from clashing when walking past each other, which, eventually, could easily lead to fighting.
Another important thing is that the superior one had to stand on the left side while marching or even while seated in a room. This is also mentioned in Sekkaroku. Saito is always very well-mannered, so he would not easily accept to walk on Souji's left side as his superior. But he does it anyway for certain practical reasons. Since Saito is left-handed and Souji right-handed, the unsheathing of their swords could lead their blades to clash or even strike each other. This position works better for them.
A/N: If I mentioned something that confused you, please do not hesitate to ask me. And if you happened to enjoy this oneshot of mine, please be kind enough to leave a review. It would mean a lot to me.
Thank you for your time.