Chapter One: Disguises
Sanosuke Harada stood flush against the wall with his yellow eyes riveted on the street before him.
He could see three men walking along the quiet road. Their raucous laughter punctured the early morning peace, suggesting a late night in Shimabara. The only other sources of life at this hour were the food vendors tending to their stalls. Their wood fires sizzled and cracked, spewing gray smoke and the sweet smell of griddle meats into the air. It would be a while yet before the civilians of Kyoto ventured out into the bitter cold; the sky was still a dark shade of blue with a single pink streak hanging along the horizon. The captain stood shivering in his coat, trying to ignore his growling stomach, as he gauged the street.
Everything appeared to be in order.
Tightening the grip on his spear, he twisted his head in the opposite direction.
"They're here," he announced.
Shinpachi shifted from his place behind the redhead. "How many?"
"Three."
The Second Division Captain cracked his knuckles. "Perfect. One for each of us."
"Remember not to bloody their garments," Hajime murmured from behind Shinpachi. "Use brute force to bring them down."
Sanosuke flipped the end of his spear so that the blunt end pointed skyward.
"Roger."
The men continued ambling down the street. They shuffled and stumbled, laughing over some dirty joke, as one tried his best to hold onto the lantern guiding their way. When they passed the alley; however, the three captains shot out into the open faster than one of Kyo Shiranui's bullets. Their spontaneous attack caught the swordsmen completely off guard. Too slow in their drunken stupor to draw their weapons, they were ripe for the taking.
Sanosuke jabbed the blunt end of his spear into one, Shinpachi punched the lights out of another, and Hajime swung the blunt end of his katana into the third. Three bodies made a satisfying thud into the street before the captains dragged them into the darkness of the alley.
They worked proficiently.
Stripping the men of their clothes, the captains quickly donned their false disguises.
No time had been wasted in launching their rescue mission. Hajime's knowledge of the compound had given them a huge advantage that allowed them to act quickly and efficiently. His familiarity with the inner workings of the Imperial Mausoleum Guard would make it easy to rescue Heisuke. Ironically enough; however, their strategy required a controversial amount of assault, theft, identity fraud, and subversion – all things considered highly illegal and incriminating. If the shogunate ever caught wind of their secret operation…discovering that the Mibu Wolves were acting of their own accord…Well, the penalty would be severe, but they were willing to take the risk.
Dire times called for desperate measures.
The Shinsengumi was temporarily split between three independent factions, leaving the Offensive Division a handful of soldiers at their disposal. Under such strenuous circumstances, the captains determined that the safest, surest way of rescuing Heisuke was to do so in disguise.
Shinpachi assessed his share of the loot, feeling his excitement morph into disappointment.
"Oh no, no, no. This is no good." He cringed. "Mine is all covered in stains!"
His victim was evidently a bit of a slob with a poor sense of hygiene. There were dark stains at the armpits and a questionable amount of residue around the collar. Shinpachi shivered with revulsion as he pulled the kimono over his own clothes.
"This is disgusting! I'm going to have to bathe for an entire week," he whined petulantly.
"Come now, Nakagura – it's not so bad," Sanosuke smirked as he shoved his arms into the sleeves of his own stolen haori. The man he ripped it from was some sort of metrosexual. The silk was rather fine for a ronin and he could smell the cloying fumes of cologne mixed with perspiration. Knotting the sash tight around his waist, he plucked the man's spectacles from his nose.
"That's easy for you to say. You smell like a posy!" Shinpachi argued, bottom lip jutting out. "Trade me."
"Beggars can't be choosers," Sanosuke gloated, polishing his glasses before slipping them on. Unused to such a contraption, the redhead fidgeted with the frames, wrinkling his nose as he did so.
"Hmm…" he hummed in amusement. "I can see why Sannan prefers these so much." Mimicking some of the colonel's mannerisms, Sanosuke drew amusement from the way the glasses felt on his face. "Who would have known they make one seem so diabolical, so mysterious, so calculating, so…"
The spearman peered at Shinpachi with big, bulbous eyes magnified grotesquely through the lenses.
"Dear God," he marveled in astonishment. "This bloke's as blind as a bat."
Sniggering, Shinpachi watched as Sanosuke attempted to make the glasses appear more seductive, but it was a lost cause.
"I don't get it. How are these two even drinking buddies?" Shinpachi asked, scratching his neck. "It doesn't make any sense. Here, we have the good-for-nothing, and there, we have the token pretty boy. Who did you get, Satio-san?"
Amid their antics, the master swordsman had made quick work of the bodies, trussing them together with rope, so that their backs rested against each other. Additional bindings were used for their eyes and mouths, and special knots were used for their hands and feet. Satisfied with his work, Hajime rose and dusted the dirt from his clothes.
"I'm not as good as Souji, but this should hold them for a while. We ought to stash them somewhere and come back for them," He suggested. "They could prove valuable when we launch our assault."
Sanosuke and Shinpachi glanced to the brains behind their operation.
Upon seeing his transformation; however, both captains froze.
His disguise did not look outlandish…at first glance. His costume consisted of typical gray hakama with a dark, striped coat. Both garments were heavily distressed and faded; though, with the jacket in particular fraying badly at the edges. Not to mention it was several sizes too large for the lissome captain, swallowing his arms and torso in additional rolls of silk. But as Sanosuke and Shinpachi took in the entirety of Hajime's camouflage, they were slightly surprised to see his signature white scarf wrapped around his head like a turban, but even more disturbed by the pretentious black mustache covering his upper lip.
"Er…Saito-san…you seem to have something on your face." Shinpachi deadpanned, pointing at his own. "Just…just there."
Ripping his glasses off, Sanosuke was horrified.
"You didn't cut that from the man as well, did you?!" He gasped.
He crouched low over the victim. But no, there it was: pale, sweaty, and still in tacked.
"What? You mean this?" Hajime responded, caressing his whiskers. "I had this specially made by Yamazaki before he left. Itou's recruits will recognized me if I don't disguise my face. Seeing as Yamazaki is a master of disguise, I commissioned him to make this for our operation."
"Y-You mean, you asked for that specifically?" Shinpachi tilted his head in disbelief.
"It is said that a good mustache makes a man for many reasons," Hajime intoned philosophically. "There is truth and honor in a mustache."
Somehow, the scrap of hair took on a life of its own as it wiggled unseemly on his upper lip.
Sanosuke and Shinpachi blinked.
"Are you sure you don't mean a katana?" Sanosuke offered. "There is truth and honor in a katana?"
Hajime dropped his hands at his sides.
"You seem to be implying that it looks bad." He said, ghosting a hand over the hilt of his sword. There was a dark undertone to his voice, and the two captains saw a frightening spark in his single blue eye.
"Uh, no, no. It looks great," said Shinpachi. "Yamazaki is the expert after all, right Harada?"
Sanosuke adjusted the glasses against his nose, letting the frames flash with mischievous light.
"Yeah, looks good, Saito-san."
Shinpachi spun on the redhead.
"Oh would you stop that already!" He griped, smacking Sanosuke on the shoulder. "Stop trying to act like Sannan!"
With all his energetic movements, smells began to awaken from Shinpachi's slate-colored kimono. Sanosuke wrinkled his nose, trying not to dwell on the not-so-subtle smell of rotten milk.
"Don't stand so close to me, Shin-san. You reek."
"Trying to pick a fight with me, eh?"
"Harada, Nakagura – let's move." Hajime ordered austerely, curling the end of his mustache. "Heisuke is waiting for us."
Both captains dropped their quarrel long enough to adjust and accept their division leader's bizarre choice of fashion. Well…Shinpachi at least. Sanosuke was currently having a difficult time comprehending the blurred masses swimming in front of his impaired vision.
"Er…right, let's go!" He affirmed, facing the wrong end of the alley.
"Time to bust that kid outta jail," agreed Shinpachi, trying not to inhale too deeply.
Trailing behind the mustachio captain, they stepped out into the street and casually resumed their journey. Phase one of their plan was accomplished. Now it was time for phase two.
. . . . . . . . . . .
"Infiltrating the fortress is going to be a far cry from a walk through the cherry blossoms," Hajime explained, as the trio crouched behind a set of bushes across from the main entrance. "We've got an eighteen-foot defensive wall lining the estate with guards stationed every ten feet. Four are stationed at each gate, and another seven wait inside the courtyard leading to the fortress. There are twenty guards patroling the main level with an additional ten in the towers. My guess is that Heisuke's been restrained in the vault where they keep the storeroom goods and weapons under lock and key. There are virtually no windows and no escape routes except for a single entrance leading in from the reception room. If we manage to free Heisuke from his cell, we will have to trace our way back to the outer courtyard or risk captivity."
Shinpachi and Sanosuke studied the fortress with feelings of bewilderment.
Three times the size of their own Shinsengumi headquarters, the stronghold had a rather harsh, penitentiary feel with its gray masonry and black crossbars. Ashen juniper trees lined the outer wall, and blue banners hung from the top. The main entrance had a grand pagoda roof crowned in porcelain blue tiles. Here, the captains could make out the soft glow of kerosene lanterns where four guards stood watch.
"So this is Itou's house, huh?" Shinpachi muttered.
"A bit grandiose, don't you think?" Sanosuke agreed, pulling his glasses off to have a better look.
"A bit over the top for some self-proclaimed 'Captain of the Mausoleum's Guard' is what I'm thinking," replied Shinpachi. "Who does he think he is? A feudal lord?! Damn shady bastard!"
"Itou is all about outward appearances. The fortress looks imposing, but in all actuality it's quite vulnerable." Consoled Hajime knowingly. "Most of the recruits are new and lack proper training. With our disguises, chances are we will be able to move with ease. Just follow my lead."
"Saito-san, I hate to ask this…but what if Heisuke is not in the vault?"
Hajime's expression darkened, as his thoughts settled on the empty cells lining the opposite wall of the storeroom he and Heisuke had looted on their first day inside the fortress. The rooms were nothing more than rudimentary stone chambers with steel benches and broad-gauge iron bars for doors. If there was any place inside this excessive encampment best suited for detaining a prisoner of war it was the pitch black vault of the fortress.
"He's there." The captain said with finality. "Now follow me."
The covert trio slipped from the bushes and headed directly for the main gate.
"Remember, we have just returned from the red lights district," the master swordsman intoned under his breath. "Better to appear hungover rather than sober."
"Easily done," came Shinpachi's reply as he threw his arms over their shoulders and began to stumble awkwardly.
"Why you…" Sanosuke began to protest, but Shinpachi was already lost in the charade.
"Teme…I told you I was going to win that bet! Nobody can handle their liquor better than I can. Hah! Haha Hahahahaha. Hoooooooo…"
His slurred speech immediately caught the attention of the guards who stood fully equipped in armor, swords, and seven-foot spears of which they pointed directly at the three newcomers.
"Halt!"
"Who approaches the gate at this hour?"
"State your business!"
Hajime deepened his voice and gave a soft sigh.
"Gomen'nasai. We are members of Higashi-sama's division returning from Shimabara. We were sent on location to meet with some delegates when this one got a little too carried away." He lied smoothly, as Shinpachi began to mumble gibberish. "We are just now returning from our assignment."
One of the guards lowered his spear in confusion.
"Higashi, you say?" He repeated. "As in Master Masa Higashi? Why would he have you three ingrates working in Shimabara?"
"That is classified information; although, you are welcome to approach him about it if it troubles you so much," replied the master swordsman. "Right now, we just need to find a bed for our sick friend here."
Right on cue, Shinpachi began blowing air through his mouth as if he were about to retch.
"Please let us pass and we'll take care of the rest," smiled Sanosuke through dry lips, as he too tried not to retch from the sour smell radiating from Shinpachi's clothes.
The guards shared a wary look amongst themselves before the head guard lowered his spear and stepped forward.
"Alright, alright. Let me see your seals first, so I can log you in the books." He ordered, pointing to Shinpachi. "Let's go with the Big One first."
Hajime reached into Shinpachi's kimono sleeve and withdrew a small wooden talisman attached to a red piece of ribbon. The smooth surface was etched with the soldier's name, rank, and division officer – proof that he was a member of the Mausoleum's Guard. Handing this over to the sentry, they waited patiently as he studied the seal for genuineness.
"Io Hisato, public relations delegate, division recruit of Masa Higashi. Hmph…public relations indeed…" joked the watchman scathingly. "Cleared…for now at least. His hangover is going to be the least of his problems once his superior finds out he broke protocol. Lucky Higashi is away on official business until tomorrow evening. You, glasses, you're next."
Sanosuke withdrew his seal from the inner pocket of his robe and handed it over.
"Kenzou Noritaka, also a public relations delegate, division recruit of Masa Higashi…no wonder you were in Shimabara," the guard continued to ridicule. "You've got enough flower juice on you to attract the bees. Sure you were recruiting men?" He asked through narrowed eyes, trying to intimidate Sanosuke, but Sanosuke could hardly decipher his wrinkled, careworn face.
An interlude of intense silence stretched out between them.
"Cleared," said the guard with a sigh. "Lastly, you sir with the mustache."
Hajime procured his own seal and handed it over. He was the last member to cross through the threshold in disguise. By now Shinpachi and Sanosuke had wobbled through the main gate under the pretense that Shinpachi was about to lose his evening meal in the bushes. He went so far as to stoop over, dry heaving with such believability that the other guards groaned in revulsion at having to watch his health deteriorate right in front of them. Sanosuke hand-motioned his apologies while roughly slapping Shinpachi between his shoulders.
"Oi, you're gonna get us kicked out if you don't cool it," the redhead muttered through a tight smile.
Shinpachi glared.
"You think I'm pretending to vomit? Screw you, you rosy prick! It's the damn smell that's making me ill!" Shinpachi vented angrily. "I need air. What the hell is keeping Saito?"
They both glanced back, and their toes nearly curled backwards in fright at the terrible scene unfolding behind them.
Hajime stood perfectly still, not moving an inch, as all four guards surrounded him.
"Saburo Daiko?!" Exclaimed the sentry as he did a double take between the seal in his hands and the man standing before him.
Hajime kept his expression neutral.
"Hai."
The head guard took a step forward, putting himself toe-to-toe with the undercover captain. The older man narrowed his eyes into slits, as he scrutinized Hajime from head to toe.
"Interesting…you don't look like your usual self, Sabu-kun…there's something different about you…"
Shinpachi and Sanosuke felt their spiritual forms take flight from their bodies, as they watched Hajime teeter on the brink of being discovered as an imposter. But just as the captains began to contemplate an alternative plan – one that would allow them to escape this domicile unscathed – the intimidating aura that had been surrounding the guards quickly dissolved into one of instant camaraderie.
"Since when did you sprout facial hair?" The head guard slapped Hajime roughly on the back. "You look completely different! I almost didn't recognize you."
"Wha…that's Saburo?!" the other guards exclaimed, as they too lowered their weapons.
"Hai," answered Hajime.
The head guard crossed his arms, scratching his chin as he assessed his comrade's transformation.
"What was it I heard you spreading around the dinner hall? Something about a mustache making the man, or some such nonsense…Ah, yes, I remember now. Truth and honor in a mustache is what you were telling the rookies," he said, chuckling heartily. The other three guards, who were quite a bit younger than their superior, glanced between the two men in puzzlement.
"Eh? Is that why you grew one out, Saburo-san? To look manlier?"
"Hai," answered Hajime.
There were sly smiles all around.
"Ah, I see."
"It makes you look completely different."
"You probably did this because you were promoted to deputy, huh?"
"Hai," answered Hajime.
The guards could no longer contain their sarcasm.
"Very cool, Saburo-san."
"So manly!"
"I think I'll grow one too!"
The head guard shook his head, amused by the brazen youth of his subordinates.
"Now boys, you can't just sprout one all willy-nilly. It doesn't work like that. Right, Sabu-kun? It takes careful planning and resolve."
"Hai," answered Hajime.
"You sly bastard, always having to one-up the rest of us…" chortled the head guard. "Go on then. But the next time we cross paths, don't think I won't pull a fast one on ya. I've got my own determination as well."
"Hai," answered Hajime.
"Let him through boys," waved the guard. "It's time we switch shifts anyways. Nearly breakfast."
"Yes sir!"
Hajime bid farewell to the guards and continued casually along the path until he reached Shinpachi and Sanosuke. He paused, but only because both captains appeared completely petrified.
"Is something the matter?" He asked, arching a brow.
"How…how did that just happen?"
"I thought for sure they knew you were an imposter –"
"But they were making fun of you instead."
Hajime closed his eyes with a soft sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Saburo Daiko has been talking about growing out a mustache for weeks now," smirked the blue-haired captain. "Sort of an annoying fellow, actually. He used to be stationed here at the gate, but transferred to Higashi's division right before I returned to the Shinsengumi. I used this information to my benefit."
Sanosuke and Shinpachi glanced at each other, grasping the true purpose of the mustache.
"Ah," said Shinpachi.
"I see," said Sanosuke.
"Shall we go now?" Hajime beckoned as he continued along the path towards the fortress.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Heisuke Todo lounged on the hardened bench of his cell, contemplating his predicament.
It had been five days, twenty-one hours, seventeen minutes, thirty-three seconds since he was so kindly deposited into this prison cell by his fellow division. Why? Heisuke hadn't the slightest idea; though, perhaps his frequent trips to the pantry had something to do with it…or maybe his inability to remain at post…or the fact that his feelings on the Mausoleum Guard were quickly cooling into the apathetic. The fact of the matter was that something was brewing inside headquarters, and Itou Kashitarou had at last shown his hand. The ex-military advisor never trusted Heisuke, and, oddly enough, his opinion of Itou was mutual.
Heaving a deep, despondent sigh, Heisuke flipped over onto his stomach.
You shouldn't have left. He berated himself with a scowl. Kondou would never have treated you like this. You were useful to the Shinsengumi. Now you're useful to no one locked in this cage.
This thought sat heavily on Heisuke's conscious well before he was incarcerated, but the sentiment felt more potent now in this moment than ever before. He was trapped, defenseless, and unaware of the reasons why - a samurai locked up in a cage like a dog. A flare of frustration reached all four corners of the cell, slowly smothering the former captain until he could bare it no longer.
I have to get out of here, he decided. But how? When? What about Saito? I can't just leave here not knowing what happened to him first.
The men in charge of watching his cell were sworn to secrecy. No matter how hard Heisuke tried to pry information out of them, even going to far as to insult their mothers and grandmothers and great-grandmothers beyond decency, no one would divulge information surrounding his detention, or the whereabouts of Hajime Saito.
Gods, I hope he didn't get himself killed, thought Heisuke. They'll be coming for me next.
The door at the far end the hall jostled open, and he felt his misgivings were about to become true.
Heisuke rose from the bench, slipping his fingers inside the collar of his robe to retrieve the sharpened chopstick he had been hiding for two days now. Where it had been difficult to wriggle information from his captors, he was successful in earning himself the right to consume his meals like a respectable human being. It had been a bit tricky; though, keeping the lone chopstick. He had to feign a meltdown, throwing his tray of foot through the bars of his cell, so that the dishes were scattered across the hall. The move had earned him a rough thrashing, but nothing worse than his usual brawls in the streets of Kyoto.
It was a fair trade after all. The jailors got their revenge for his daily offenses, and Heisuke got to keep his chopstick. All it took was a few hours of sharpening the utensil against the stone floor, and he was at last equipped with a feasible weapon. Now all he needed was a diversion.
Licking his busted lip, Heisuke decided he wasn't going to languish in this cell any longer. Death was something he'd anticipate on the battlefield, not this dark, musty cellar. The moment of truth was upon him now. He was ready to defect as a member of the Mausoleum's Guard and turn himself ronin if that is what earned him his freedom. A cunning smile spread across his face, as he forgave himself the violence he was about to unleash on his unsuspecting guards.
Remaining perfectly calm, Heisuke schooled his features and lounged casually on the bench. Underneath his nonchalance; however, his pulse quickened, and adrenaline began to flow through his body, tightening his muscles. All he had at his disposal were his fighting instincts, a desire to kill, and one crudely sharpened chopstick.
I'm about to make Okita look tame, thought the former captain cynically.
Footsteps padded down the corridor at a fast pace.
Sounds like there are three of them this time. He calculated. Right, nothing you can't handle.
His fears seemed to be correct. The wardens were unusually hasty this morning. Footsteps clattered down the hall, picking up speed as they drew closer, sounding more and more urgent. The flames from the torches lining the wall flickered. Heisuke prepared himself, anticipating their swords and a sudden death sentence.
Any moment now…He froze with anticipation.
To his immense surprise; however, there was a minor scuffle followed by a string of curses.
"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" someone cussed vehemently. "I can't see a damn thing down here!"
"Take those stupid glasses off then, baka," another replied. "You're running into all the walls."
"But I like them!"
"Then bust out the lens already. You're driving me crazy!"
"No! I can't do that. Then all I will have is a lousy pair of frames."
"Oh for crying out loud, give me those."
Sounds of struggle reached Heisuke before it was replaced by the shattering of broken glass.
"Noooooooo," wailed the guard in protest. "Why did you do that? You jackass!"
Heisuke's murderous intent began to falter, as the heated voices continued to fill the passage, tugging his recognition. Their discord resumed, and he could hear the solid smack of someone being thrown down onto the floor. It was quickly followed by a grunt of shocked pain. Legs were kicked out from underneath the attacker, resulting in another brutal crash to the floor. The bodies rolled, sounds of grunts and groans issuing from the two until they plopped right in front of Heisuke's jail cell.
His face went completely smooth, eyes swimming in darkness, as he stared at his visitors.
"Sano…Shinpatsu…" He said blithely.
"Hey damsel," choked Sanosuke from his place on the floor. "You be distressing?"
Shinpachi rose back onto his heels, freeing the redhead from his death-grip.
"Hey kid," he greeted gruffly, "Glad to see you're still alive."
"Well, somewhat. Looks like you've been frisked more than what's good for you," Sanosuke frowned, seeing the bruises and welts on his face.
Heisuke took a moment to find his voice again.
"What are you two idiots doing here?"
They both swelled with pride.
"Word's out that you've been locked up, so we're here to bust you out!"
Heisuke nodded, treating this news with the same gravity as if he had just received the weekly weather forecast.
"…ah. How nice."
Something in him finally snapped, as he quickly realized he had almost stabbed his friends to death with a scrawny wooden toothpick. All the anger and resentment he had felt in the past couple of days returned to him at once, and to his astonishment, all he could do was laugh. It started as a soft snigger, strained and half-hearted, until it quickly turned into a chuckle before Heisuke was laughing with every fiber of his being. Tears stung the corners of his eyes, as he lost himself in his mirth.
"Oi, kid…you alright?"
"Alright? Alright? I'm feeling GREAT!" Heisuke hooted and snorted, tossing his makeshift weapon aside. "Here I was about to commit murder, and you two show up. I've been saved!"
The former captain flung himself at the bars of his cell.
"What the hell are you guys doing here?! How is this even possible?!"
The two swordsmen resumed to their feet, and immediately began assessing his gloomy lodgings.
"We've been ordered to rescue you and bring you back to headquarters." Sanosuke explained. "Hijikata has us working undercover, so as not to raise any suspicions among Itou's men."
"Hijikata?"
"Yeah, we have decided that you belong with us, kid. Sorry, but you've been wasting your time with this lot," said Shinpachi. "They're nothing but a bunch of dirty, smarmy rebel-wannabes."
Heisuke frowned.
"Rebels? What are you talking about?"
Shinpachi and Sanosuke shared a bewildered look.
"Heisuke…You really have no idea what's going on, do you?" Sanosuke frowned.
His surprise wounded Heisuke's ego, reminding him of his own frustrations.
"I've been rotting in this cesspool the whole time! No one here tells me anything," he retorted heatedly. "Sano, Shinpatsu, just what in the hell is going on?"
The two captains hesitated, unsure of where to begin.
"Itou is launching an attack on the Bakufu," explained Hajime, as he revealed himself from the darkness of the hall, a circlet of keys hanging from his index finger. "He's planning a rebellion in the city, and sent an assassination squad after Kondou. He means to take control of Kyoto."
Heisuke clutched the bars of his cell, the whites of his eyes shining brightly in the dark.
"WHAT?!"
"I figured you would want a piece of the action," continued the blue-haired captain, swiveling the keys. "Now that you know where his true intentions lie, it's time to cast your bet. Do you wish to stay here, or are you up for some real fighting?"
A smile spread across Heisuke's face, but it was full of sheer vitriol.
"Saito-san," he said. "Get me out of this cage now."
A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for reading the sequel to The Seven Gates of the Demon Arts. This story picks up exactly where I left off in the previous story, so if it seems a bit confusing, I apologize. Hajime, Sanosuke, and Shinpachi have been tasked with rescuing Heisuke from the Mausoleum's Guard as part of their offensive division prerogative. It's been long overdue bringing Heisuke back into the gang, but his plotline is about to take full-flight.
I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and blame the hilarity from watching Hakuouki Sekkaroku. (Hajime's episode in particular motivated these shenanigans.)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Hakuouki Shinsengumi Kitan or Hakuouki Sekkaroku series. I also want to apologize for any far-fetched deviations from the historical entities that appear in this story. This story is solely for my own amusement.
Here is the soundtrack that helped inspire this chapter:
The Book – Nicholas Hooper (disguise scene)
Aunt Marge's Waltz – John Williams (main gate scene with the guards)
A Hero Awakes – Russell Shaw (Heisuke contemplating escape)
Escape – Russell Shaw (prison cell scene)
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