A/N: This is my take on Hajime's past, and while it is loosely based on the events outlined in the game/anime, it is not meant to follow it perfectly.
"Now that you've decided to learn to fight, you'll need to start from the beginning. You need to learn the basics," Hajime said to Ibuki.
"I never actually made that decision…" Ibuki said under his breath.
Hajime ignored Ibuki's words and maintained his persistent stare. He was well aware that this generally made people uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to argue with him. Ibuki needed to do this whether or not he understood why.
"Fine, fine," Ibuki said, taking what Hajime was not overly surprised to find was a moderately correct stance. He knew that Ibuki had come from a family of samurai, and he was likely taught this as a child. It was quite clear however that his technique had not been refined since that time, as it looked like an overgrown child's stance.
"Move your right foot forward and your left foot back," Hajime said, retrieving his own katana from his waist and demonstrating the proper right-handed stance. He couldn't remember the last time he had instructed someone at such a novice level.
"Ah, like this?" Ibuki said, looking slightly foolish.
"Bend your back leg. Make sure you're steady. The last thing you want is to fall over when you swing your sword."
Ibuki steadied himself, then held his katana out in front of him.
"Hold you sword directly over your leg. Make sure you grasp the hilt tightly starting with your pinky fingers."
"Like this?"
"No, don't hold it from the side?"
"What does that even mean?" Ibuki demanded, exasperated.
"Like this," Hajime said, holding his sword out in front of him. Ibuki replicated the stance, and looked at him questioningly. "Yes. Now let me see your strike."
Ibuki lifted the sword above his head and swung down, nearly falling forward in the process.
Hajime could hear Heisuke laughing from the steps not 10 meters away. He watched as Ibuki's face flushed with embarrassment. "Ignore them," he told his student.
"Shut up Heisuke-kun!"
"Focus," Hajime said firmly.
"Right," Ibuki replied.
"Don't shift your weight completely off your back foot. You need to maintain a stable stance."
Before long, Hajime had Ibuki swinging the katana properly, and was having him do reps of thirty.
"Say, Saito-san, can I ask you something?" Ibuki said, panting hard having completed his last rep.
Hajime knew exactly what he was about to be asked. He had been asked the question countless times before, and he knew the demeanor that lead up to it like the back of his hand. He simply stared back at Ibuki and awaited the question.
"How did you get away with being left handed? Isn't that sort of thing usually corrected at a young age?" Ibuki asked quite seriously.
Hajime sighed and sheathed his katana. "Let's take a break," he said, leading Ibuki to the now deserted steps.
"I didn't always get away with it as you so graciously put it."
"Hajime! Stop that right now!" His mother demanded.
The child almost dropped his bowl as the woman's voice reverberated off the walls. He quickly switched his chopsticks to his right hand, and clumsily fed himself the rest of the rice from his bowl.
"Sit still," she said almost angrily. He grunted slightly as she pulled his long hair off his face and into a high ponytail and the top of his head.
"Your father wants you down at the dojo right away," his mother said in a more tranquil tone.
"Yes, mother," the boy said, picking up his water and taking a long drink from it.
"HAJIME!" His mother screamed, slapping his left wrist with her folded fan, causing the glass to fall from his hand and shatter against the concrete floor.
The boy stifled a cry as he moved away from the shards of glass. He'd done it again.
"Clean it up and then get it out of my sight!"
Without a word, he headed for the broom closet. Ensuring he did it in a way his mother would approve of, he swept the pieces into a box and then left through the front door. He pulled his hair down and replaced the knot loosely on his shoulder. He had always thought that perhaps if he could conceal his face, he would be able to hide from the world.
And that's how it was day in and day out for him.
It was the same at his father's dojo.
"Hajime, you will begin your reps," his father said. "And you know the consequences if I see any of that behavior of yours."
"Yes sir," he said, taking his stance and mentally ordering himself to maintain his artificial right-handedness.
His class instructor was old and nearly blind, so he could generally get away with using a left handed stance as long as no one was scorning him at the time. Often the other kids were too focused on their own work to notice. If his father was around though, it was a different story. The other adults felt the same.
"There's that kid."
"He's a strange one."
"He's left handed."
"I can't believe his parents allow it."
"You have to admit though, he is talented."
"I wouldn't expect any less from Saito-sensei's son."
"It's a shame he isn't more normal."
"Yes, his poor parents."
He had grown used to the comments he endured on a daily basis. At least when they weren't spoken directly to his face he could attempt to ignore them.
"Tonight we will hold a sparring tournament," Saito-sensei announced. "The draws are posted on the message board. I expect all of you to give your best in preparation for our city championships next months."
Hajime made his way slowly to the message board behind everyone else. It was usually better if he stayed behind; being the smallest in the dojo, it lowered his chances of getting trampled. He gasped when he saw who he had drawn.
Mikagu-san was at least five years older than him, not to mention nearly twice his height. He was not overly talented, but he could take advantage of his reach alone to make things difficult for Hajime. He had sparred with him multiple times, and Hajime knew too well that he was a dirty fighter when his pride was at stake. He could usually beat him if he was allowed to fight the way he knew how. This however, would not be one of those circumstances. His father would be watching, and consequences would be severe if he slipped up.
"And begin!"
Hajime lunged forward, knowing that if he were to stand a chance against Mikagu he would need to get on the offensive early. He threw strike after strike after strike, but missed his target each time. His right hand was too unsteady. Mikagu came back at him in full force, but Hajime dodged. He ducked beneath the strike and swung around ready to deliver a blow with everything he had, but Mikagu kept his sword up and blocked. Caught off guard by the defensive move, he gave Mikagau time to body slam him. He fell to the floor, and Mikagu lingered over him with his sword held high. Instinctively, Hajime grasped his sword with this left hand and swung it across Mikagu's stomach. The teen crumpled in defeat. The match was over. He had won.
"Hajime," his father said calmly, lowering his head. "Come here."
Hajime felt his heart begin to race. His father had seen what he had done. He knew he was in trouble. He took a deep breath of air and followed his father up the stairs and into his office.
"Hold out your left hand, Hajime," his father said, sighing deeply. Hajime thought he detected a hint of remorse, but before he could confirm it, his father grasped his wooden sword and brought it down hard on his outstretched wrist. He heard the bones break before he felt it, and a piercing cry escaped his throat as he fell to the ground, clasping the injured limb to his chest.
"You will learn to fight like a normal person, Hajime, even if this is what it takes."
The man left his office, leaving the boy crying on the floor. These were the measure that his father would take in order to ensure his son was normal.
It was two weeks before Hajime would even be able to lift a sword again. Even then, there was no way he could use his dominant hand. His father had known exactly where to make the break so that while healing, the injured arm could be used only in a supportive manner, and barely even as that. He was forced to do things with his right hand as his left was bandaged in a way that did not completely immobilize it and therefore was still very painful to use. He knew that it would not heal properly, and he would likely lose full use of his dominant hand. But that was what his father wanted. He would be forced to get by with his right hand. He spent much of the next several weeks alone, mourning what felt like the loss of a close friend. He knew he would never wield a sword as he had previously. He practiced as much as he could in the way his father wanted, but he knew that even with years of practice, it would never be the same.
When his wrist healed, Hajime returned to his old style despite the discomfort. As expected, it had healed improperly but even so, it was still more efficient to fight with his left hand than his right. No matter what, he could not catch on to what his father considered proper fighting. Over the next few years, his father grew ill and was not present around the dojo quite as frequently. He continued to endure great amounts of mockery, but Hajime focused harder than ever on becoming stronger. He felt more alone than he had ever felt in the dojo, since people treated him as though he were some sort of freak. He channeled his rage and his pain into his training, and if he had not been previously, he grew stronger than any other child or teen in his class. He watched them all spar and grow closer to one another from the outside. More than once he thought about how if he were just right handed, he would fit in. Normally warriors respected those who were stronger than them, but it wasn't so in this case. It wasn't the case because he, Saito Hajime, was a freak.
At the age of eleven, several members from the dojo had informed Hajime's father that he continued to use a left handed fighting style. He attempted to break Hajime's arm again, but this time he dodged the strike and fled the dojo.
"HAJIME! GET BACK HERE!"
But he was done. He grabbed his Katana on his way out the door along with a water container and headed out into the night. It wasn't until he was several kilometers down the road that he realized what he had just done. There was no way he could return now.
Hajime spent the better part of the next three weeks travelling. He managed to find scraps of food here and there, and locals even gave him food a couple of times in exchange for small errands. He had decided however, the moment he left that he was above stealing, so more often than not, he went hungry. This wasn't a total shock to his system, since his parents never overindulged him with copious amounts of food. They had always fed him enough to acquire satiety, but never much more. Moreover, he was often denied meals for disobeying rules, such as using his left hand. This was likely the reason for his underdeveloped figure.
A cold winter morning found him sleeping on the side of a riverbank, curled up under his robes for warmth when a stranger approached him.
"Hello there," the voice said.
Startled, Hajime burst to his feet and drew his sword, only to find it met with an equally proficient katana. Adrenaline coursed through his tiny body as he wildly swung his sword at the stranger, but was surprised to find that the man would only defend, and that he bore a compassionate expression. Furthermore, he looked amused as though he was intrigued by the sparring match, and wanted to continue it as just that: a friendly match.
Hajime quickly caught on, and feeling that the man was condescending him, shouted "What do you want?!" His voice was hoarse, having just woken up.
The man took a step back and sheathed his word. As Hajime's eyes adjusted to the brightness of day, he realized that this man looked very young. He had shoulder length dark brown hair and kind hazel eyes framed with large round glasses. To his surprise, the stranger smiled at him.
"This is the third morning I've seen you sleeping here. You must be cold. Where is your family?"
Hajime stared a second longer, then turned away. He had no obligation to tell this stranger his story. He could simply pack up and find a new place to sleep. Despite this fact however, a part of him wanted to tell this man what had happened. He seemed kind, and Hajime was beginning to feel very alone. Hajime returned his sword to his waist, and watched as the stranger's eyes lingered on his right hip. He sighed and wished he had simply placed the katana on the ground. What little hope he had harbored of this man being sympathetic seemed to slip away from him as quickly as the rushing river.
"My name is Yamanami Keisuke. Most people call me San'nan. Would you like to join me for tea?"
Utterly shocked by the man's words, Hajime stepped backwards, feeling a little threatened. This wasn't the kind of attitude he was used to from people. His first thought was that this man had some sort of ulterior motive. What if it was someone his father had sent after him. He looked up at the man once more, and mentally shook his head. No, his father would not send anyone after him. He didn't care. In fact, he was probably happy to be rid of his freak of a son.
"You look sad," San'nan commented. "What is your name?"
Hajime looked up into the man's eyes. They held a certain warmth to which he was very unaccustomed to. He wanted to believe, even if just for a moment, that this man was genuine and saw him as a real human being. It wasn't a notion he could chase very often.
"Saito Hajime," he finally said, straightening up.
"Do you live around here?" San'nan asked.
"No," he answered simply. He was aware that he could only answer so many of these questions without having to explain himself entirely.
"Will you come with me?" San'nan asked. "I live just across the river."
Hajime didn't answer, but he followed San'nan across the bridge and back to a small hut on the far side of the river. It was a single room in a larger complex with several others situated in the communal living area. It appeared however that many of the others were vacant at the present time. San'nan gave Hajime a change of clothes and insisted that he allow him to wash his damp kimono. Hajime initially argued against this, but upon the terms that he wash his clothing himself, he agreed. The clothes were much too big for him, but they were dry and warm, which was more than Hajime had had in the previous days. He stepped out onto the porch to find San'nan making tea and spooning rice porridge into a bowl. The smell overwhelmed his senses, and without argument, he sat across the small wooden table and gratefully accepted the food. He hesitated, picking up the spoon with his right hand. He knew the man had already seen the position of his sword, but he wasn't about to risk losing his first real meal in days.
"How long have you been on your own, Saito-kun?"
"I'm not sure. A month perhaps," he said, wondering why he was sharing this information. The only argument he could make to himself was that he still received a trustworthy vibe from the man.
"You have spent considerable time in a dojo, have you not?" San'nan asked, pouring the tea into two cups.
Hajime paused at this, and looked up at his acquaintance. "Yes," he said, deciding to leave it at that for now rather than explaining that the dojo belonged to his father.
"You are a talented swordsman. I would much appreciate the chance to spar with you, given your consent," San'nan smiled. "I have trained in the Tennen Risshin style since I was a child."
Hajime considered for a moment, but finally agreed.
The sparring match went surprisingly well. Hajime even managed to emerge victorious in several of the matches, despite the fact that he had dropped his wooden sword twice due to his weak wrist, however he was unsure if San'nan was really exerting his full potential. Further to the victory, San'nan still had not brought up the subject of his left-handedness, and continued to treat him with dignity and respect.
That evening, Hajime ate dinner with San'nan and a few others from the complex. He was quiet, and simply listened to their conversation. He was a little nervous, wondering what would become of him after the meal. Would San'nan allow him to remain over night? He knew he couldn't count on him indefinitely, but the prospect of a warm room to sleep in was beyond inviting after the last several weeks.
After dinner, San'nan approached Hajime. "You are welcome to stay here tonight. There is a room available if you'd like it. There is a place I'd like you to accompany me to tomorrow, if you are alright with it."
"Ok," Hajime agreed. He was not currently bothered by the mysterious invitation. Right now, all that mattered was that he would have a roof over his head tonight. That prospect alone made him feel better than he had in weeks. Perhaps more. What did surprise him though, was the fact that San'nan had not asked him why he was alone. But right now, it was not of great concern to Hajime.
"San'nan-san," he piped up, "Thank you."
"Are you up for some sparring, Saito-kun?" San'nan asked the boy as they readied themselves to leave.
"Where are we going?" Hajime asked.
"To the dojo where I train. There are some young men around your age too. I'd like you to meet them."
"Oh," Hajime replied, his voice falling. He had spent considerable time with boys his own age, but he had never got along well with them. He had never made any real friends before. In fact, they were the ones that usually teased him. He felt grim at the prospect of the afternoon now, but he couldn't exactly say no after all San-nan had done for him.
As they walked through the small town, Hajime noticed how many people said hello to San'nan in a very polite manner, as if looking up to him. He was beginning to wonder just what sort of person he had gotten himself involved with. It made him even more nervous at the prospect of meeting his friends.
"Souji-kun," San'nan said as they approached what Hajime assumed to be the dojo. A boy who looked to be in his mid to late teens sat on the steps outside of the opened double doors.
"San'nan-san," the boy replied, standing to greet them. Hajime simply bowed and kept his mouth shut.
"Are Hijikata-san and Kondou-san here?" San'nan asked. Souji had now taken notice of Hajime and was staring intently. It made him feel nervous.
"They went into town. You must have just missed them."
"This is Saito Hajime," San'nan said, stepping aside to introduce him. "Saito-kun, this is Okita Souji."
"Nice to meet you," Souji said, smiling. The smile wasn't particularly malicious, but Hajime couldn't tell if it was sincere or not. He doubted however, that this boy would do anything cruel while San'nan was present. "Souji-kun, I think you might enjoy sparring with this boy."
"Oh really?" Souji replied. Again, Hajime couldn't read the meaning behind the words.
"Souji-kun, what are you doing out here. Oh, San'nan-san, hi," Another boy said. This boy looked about Hajime's own age. Two more followed behind him, both looking a little bit older.
"This is Saito Hajime, he's new to the area," San'nan said.
"Saito-kun!" The younger boy exclaimed, getting uncomfortably close to greet him. "I'm Heisuke Toudou! This is Sanosuke Harada-kun and Shinpachi Nagakura-kun."
"Nice to meet you," Hajime said timidly, bowing once more.
"We're going to spar," said Souji, still grinning.
"What? With Souji-kun? He's the star of this dojo! Shouldn't you start with someone like Heisuke-chan?" Harada said, laughing.
"Hey!" Heisuke protested. "I told you to stop calling me that!" This earned a laugh from everyone present.
San'nan smiled at Hajime and followed the boys into the dojo. He felt extremely anxious as Souji retrieved two wooden swords and handed him one. He wasn't nervous about sparring. He'd fought countless men older than he was, and he usually faired quite well. He was on edge because he was surrounded by so many people he wasn't familiar with, and fighting made him feel vulnerable. If people didn't comment on his size or introversion, they usually had something to say after seeing him fight with his left hand. From what the others had said about Souji, he realized it probably was not wise to try to fight right-handed.
He took his stance, and awaited his signal to start. When it came, he lunged, just as he always did against a potentially stronger opponent on whom he would like to gain the upper hand. He heard his small audience gasp, matching the surprise in Souji's expression, but he did not back down. He struck several times, but Souji managed to dodge each one, though not with ease. They clashed swords, and it was Souji's turn to lunge. The match lasted much longer than what was typical of friendly sparring matches. Souji finally managed to get a hit in, ending the first round. The pair ceased fighting and bowed to one another.
"You're quite the swordsman," Souji said to him.
"Thank you," Hajime replied modestly, feeling his face flush. This was not at all the kind of comment he had been expecting.
"Me next!" Harada yelled.
Startled, he looked up at the older boy, then to San'nan who simply smiled warmly at him.
Hajime fought each of the others, defeating all three of them. Souji demanded a rematch, but defeated him narrowly once more after Hajime dropped his sword.
"Are you alright?" Souji asked, picking it up for him.
Hajime clasped his aching left wrist, and nodded, accepting the sword.
"One more round? Or do you need a break?"
"I'm fine," he said quietly, taking his stance once more.
This time, he managed to defeat Souji with a quick sidestep, allowing him to come around the side of Souji and press the sword into his ribs.
"He won!" Heisuke cried.
"He did indeed," said an unfamiliar voice. "You are incredible."
Hajime looked up to see two men standing on either side of San'nan. The older looking man's face bore an expression of awe. The man who had spoken had a stern looking face, long dark hair tied up in a high ponytail and vibrant violent eyes. He narrowed in on Hajime and spoke again.
"How old are you?"
"Eleven," he said, bowing to the man.
The man continued to stare in awe. San'nan continued to smile. Surely at least one of them had to have noticed that he was left-handed by now. Yet no one said a word of it. He was still nervously awaiting someone to point it out, but it didn't come.
"What is your name?"
"Saito Hajime," he replied.
The man looked at San'nan who nodded to him.
"May I have a word?" The man asked, gesturing to a door on the right.
Hajime looked nervously at San'nan, but received a simple nod of encouragement.
"Please, have a seat," the man gestured towards several small cushions on the floor.
Hajime did as he was told, and the older man sat across from him.
"My name is Hijikata Toshizo. This is Isami Kondou," he said, referring to the man who had just entered the room and slid the door shut behind him. "It seems San'nan-san was right about you, not that he is often wrong."
Hajime stared at Hijikata curiously, but said nothing. "He told us that he'd found a boy sleeping on the river side who was a talented swordsman. He had a suspicion that you had been banished from your previous home for being left handed, after they'd been unable to correct it, even with physical force."
At the sound of those words, Hajime could feel Hijikata's eyes on his slightly disfigured wrist. He hid it from site, and looked away. "How did he know? I never told him anything."
"San'nan-san is a smart man. Are you confirming his theory?" Hijikata asked.
"I wasn't banished. I left. But the rest is correct," he admitted, sighing quietly.
"We would like to offer you a place at our dojo, as a live in student." Hijikata said, turning to Kondou, who nodded.
"What?" Hajime said impulsively, looking first to Hijikata, then to Kondou. "Doesn't it bother you that I'm left-handed? I can't change it, and you can't force it out of me. Trust me, my father tried!" He said desperately.
"Whether you're right or left-handed, it doesn't change the fact that you're strong. You will not be asked to change your style."
"What?" Hajime asked. He couldn't understand it. No one had ever simply accepted the fact before, let alone looked past it. "I don't understand."
"You are a strong and talented swordsman, and we'd like you to join our dojo. It's as simple as that. Will you accept the offer?" Kondou said.
"I – yes, I suppose so." He left out the part about how he had nowhere else to go. He was still having a hard time accepting the fact that they were ok with his fighting style. No one had ever been ok with it before.
"Excellent. Now that that's cleared up, the other thing I'd like to discuss with you is your injury. Please, explain the details," Hijikata said.
Hajime stared back, but decided that if he were indeed going to stay here, it would be best if he explained himself. "My wrist was broken when I was a child. I believe it didn't heal properly," he said.
"And you have trouble gripping your sword as a result, is that it?" Kondou asked.
"Yes, for extended periods."
"There is a procedure that would likely be able to reverse the damage. It would involve re-breaking the bones, and setting them properly while removing scar tissue. It would take considerable time to heal properly, but it would give you a fresh start. What do you say?"
"Why are you doing all this for me?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. He was sure the look on his face that followed was evidence enough to that.
Kondou smiled at him. "You've been mistreated all your life, and judged unfairly simply because you are different. Am I wrong?"
Hajime stared back, but did not reply.
"And like I said before, you are strong. We hope to take our dojo and our name somewhere some day. We can use all the additional strength that we can get. You wish to become a samurai, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then we are all on the same page. For obviously reasons, we would like you to be the best you can be. That is why San'nan-san suggested the operation. What do you say?" Kondou asked.
Hajime stared down at his wrist. He knew they were right. They could have very well made it a condition of him staying, but the fact that they didn't said that much more about them. Maybe they really did care. The thought of being injured once again scared him, especially around a group of unfamiliar people. They could kill him and there would be nothing he could do. But without them, there was no doubt that he would die on his own. This was the best option he had. "Yes, alright then."
"San'nan-san will be thrilled," Kondou smiled.
He was still very uneasy about both important decisions he had made. He spent the evening with everyone, settling in as much as possible and eating dinner in their dining hall. He would be sharing a room with Heisuke, but he was to return with San'nan tonight so he could go straight to the Doctor who would be performing his operation in the morning. He lay awake into the late hours of the night contemplating his future. He was excited at the prospect of staying at the dojo, but the operation scared him. He had learned long ago, from experience and from his father's constant preaching, that he was only worth what strength he had to offer. This procedure would make him beyond useless; it would make him reliant on others. He disliked the idea of being completely incapacitated so early into his new life here. He felt that it made him completely worthless, and if he was worthless, why would these people want him around? It didn't seem like a good way to start things off and try to fit in. But regardless of what he thought, and despite the fact that he had on the surface been given the option, the decision was more or less made for him. He could do nothing but sit back and wait for things to unfold.
It was not until the morning after the operation that Hajime regained full consciousness. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding light, he became aware that he was in his new bedroom above the dojo. He had no idea how he had got there. The last thing he remembered was arriving at the surgeon's office. Had San'nan literally carried him back here? Or had he woken up and not remembered it? He felt extremely groggy, and a large part of him wanted to simply surrender to the persistent nagging of sleep once more. He quickly decided however that he had probably been asleep much too long, and he forced his eyes open despite the blinding light.
"Hey there, you're awake," a voice commented from beside him.
He forced his eyes to remain open, and turned his head to see Heisuke sitting next to his bed. As he turned to look though, his head spun like a hurricane, and he snapped his eyes shut shortly after confirming the identify of his company. He felt awful.
"Do you still feel sick?" Heisuke asked him.
"What?" He murmured quietly in response.
"You were really sick last night, don't you remember? You had a high fever and you were throwing up," Heisuke informed him.
He opened his eyes wider, and looked questioningly at Heisuke. He didn't remember any of this.
"Oh well, I guess it's a side effect of the medicine they used to put you to sleep. San'nan-san said you probably wouldn't feel good in the morning. He told us not to leave you alone."
Hajime shuddered at the thought. He didn't want them to feel the need to babysit him. He was already useless as it was, he didn't want to be more of a burden.
"I'm fine," he lied.
"That's good," Heisuke said, though Hajime wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. "How is you arm?"
Hajime had nearly forgotten about his arm. He hadn't felt any pain until now. He looked down and found his arm encased in a thick cast and bound in a sling that hung around his neck. He quickly found that the joint was completely immobile, and the cast was very heavy.
"Toudou-san, you don't need to look after me," Hajime finally said.
Hajime expected to catch Heisuke off guard with this, but the response he received was quite the opposite. He simply smiled, shook his head, and clicked his tongue. "San'nan-san sure was right about you," he said.
"What?"
"He said you wouldn't like the idea of being taken care of and that you would feel like you were inconveniencing us. Are you sure you only met him the other day?"
"What? Yah, just the other day."
"You're my new roommate! I want to get to know you! And this is the perfect opportunity. Hijikata-san said that I was to stay with you until you could get out of bed. I wanted the job! So don't worry about it. And quit calling me Toudou-san. Call me Heisuke. We're friends, right?"
Hajime forced himself into a sitting position, fighting back the spinning feeling in his head, and staring forward at Heisuke.
"I've never had a friend before," he said in a quiet, ashamed voice.
"Whaaaat? Never?" The reaction of shock had finally arrived, but minutes too late and in response to the wrong statement.
"No," Hajime admitted.
Heisuke continued to stare, making Hajime feel uncomfortable. Finally, his shocked expression dissolved into a smile. "Well then I get to be your first! Can I call you Hajime-kun?"
Hajime stared back at him. No one aside from his immediate family had ever called him by his first name. But he seemed to have accomplished many other firsts in the last couple of days, the most substantial being finding people who accepted him for who he was. So maybe this was ok too.
"Ok, Heisuke… kun."
"Let's be great friends!" Heisuke exclaimed.
Again, the surprised expression took its customary place across Hajime's features. But finally, he broke into a smile, and nodded. Maybe things were really going to turn around for him after all. Only time could tell.
"Your father really broke your wrist?!" Ibuki said, as Hajime concluded his story.
"Yep," Hajime replied. He hadn't told this story in some time now. While he was used to the questions, explaining everything was not something he particularly enjoyed doing. But he felt that Ibuki might be in the same position as he was all those years ago.
"Did your wrist heal properly?" Ibuki asked, a hint of concern laced with his words.
"It did," Hajime said, holding out his left hand. "It was all thanks to San'nan-san, Hijikata-san and Kondou-san. I owe them and the others everything. They were the first people to look past what everyone else saw me for, and they helped me become who I am today. I don't know what would have become of me if not for them."
"I see…"
Hajime watched Ibuki out of the corner of his eye. He could see that he was thinking hard. After a moment, Ibuki spoke again.
"Let's get back out there!"
Maybe Hajime was imagining it, but he thought he detected a new sense of resolve in Ibuki's words. Perhaps the story had indeed had the effect he was hoping for.
A/N: I apologize if there are typos! This was something I wrote to get me through exams, but I'm quite happy with the way it turned out! It is meant to be a one-shot, but I still have ideas floating around in my head, so perhaps I'll write more one day. I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading :)