From KazaChi Week 2017. Day 2: Reunion

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Kyoto, 1868

The gold in his eyes had reverted back to its crimson color. His white hair was honey-blonde again. But Chizuru felt his life fading away, cradling his face in her hands, his cheeks losing its warmth.

Hijikata's katana was still pierced through him, preventing his healing abilities to activate. But if she pulled it out—if she could pull it out—she would be holding a pile of ashes instead.

"Why? Why did you come back, Kazama?" Chizuru cried, her pink kimono soaked with the pure oni blood of her once-kidnapper.

Kazama reached a bloody hand out to her cheek, blending a streak of red as he wiped her tears. "I had to make sure," he said, voice hoarse. Chizuru felt his chest trembling, his lungs struggling to find air.
"I had to make sure you were safe, Chi…" his words trailed off.

Chizuru lifted his limp body, holding him closer in her arms. "Please. Please hold on," she begged. Kazama tilted his face, his eyes half-lidded, and smiled.

"I may not be with you in this lifetime, but I will come for you again," he whispered, closing his eyes slowly.

Chizuru returned the smile, not quite reaching her tear-filled eyes, but it was soft, nonetheless. She looked up at the sakura tree they were under, reveling in the cool shade. She let out a sigh of relief as she watched hundreds of pink petals dance into the breeze that stopped by.

Her neck ached, refusing to look back down when she heard the sound of a metal clink, and her arms and hands empty.

London, 1945

Chizuru wrapped her small fingers around the man's wrist. She watched the clock across the wall, counting the beat of his heart silently. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

"Either something is wrong with you, or you're excited to see me, soldier," she teased, writing the result of his blood pressure on his chart. It was a lot higher than yesterday's. She scribbled a note next to it, reminding herself to talk to Dr. Matsumoto after her rounds.

"I think you should check another body part and you'll find out the answer, Miss," the soldier retorted, a crooked grin splashed across his face. Chizuru rolled her eyes at the brash young man, slapping his shoulder in jest.

The flirting was interrupted by a ceramic plate shattering on the floor. "Where is she? Where is she?" A loud familiar voice echoed across the infirmary. The yelling continued, and Chizuru rushed over to aid the other nurses.

"Hey, hey, enough," Chizuru said calmly, gently pushing the soldier back down on his cot. His head was completely bandaged, two holes poked around the nose and a slit where his mouth was. It was just yesterday that he came into the hospital, bloodied and blinded by a bomb that detonated in front of him. He was lucky to still be alive, although Chizuru presumed it won't be too long until his wounds got the best of him.

He grabbed her waist, catching Chizuru by surprise. "Miss, I know it's you," he said, his hand clasping on her white dress. She laid her hand on top of his, caressing his knuckles. "Yes, it's me. I'm here."

Chizuru's eyes went wide when she saw the bandage around his stomach seeping with blood, emitting a strong stench. His wounds had opened up, possibly infected. "I need a doctor!" she cried out, grabbing white clothes from a table nearby. "Don't worry, sir, you're going to be okay."

The soldier laughed, tugging the necklace around his neck. "You don't worry. I heal really quickly," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Give me your hand," he requested, his right hand waving around him, reaching out to her.

Chizuru hesitated. She was putting pressure on his wounds and needed both hands to stop the bleeding. "Please," he said softly.

"Here," she finally responded, lifting her right hand toward him as she leaned on her left arm, hoping it was enough pressure until the doctor came.

He flipped her hand over, palm facing up, and placed the necklace on it. It was his army tags.

"Wear this when we go out dancing tomorrow," he said, his thumb grazing her wrist. "I want everyone to know who you belong to," he teased.

Chizuru chuckled, strays of tears falling from eyes. She was relieved he couldn't see her right now. She hated her ugly cries. "Yeah, okay."

A strong arm pushed Chizuru off the soldier. It was Dr. Matsumoto, frantically inspecting the wounds. Another nurse asked her to move, instructing her to return to her duties. Another two men rolled a gurney next to her. "We need to get him to the operating room now."

Chizuru stuffed the necklace into her pocket. "I'll come back tomorrow," she said to herself, praying that the soldier will keep his promise to her.

The next day, Chizuru couldn't wait to visit the bandaged soldier. Of course she knew they weren't going out dancing—she wasn't that naive. But there was something different about him, something familiar that compelled her to stay by his side.

The cot was empty, completely clean like there was never a body there. They moved him, she thought. She ran to Dr. Matsumoto's office, no intention of knocking his door. "Where did they move the soldier?" she panted, leaning against the door frame. Dr. Matsumoto looked up, piles of paperwork in front of him. "Which soldier?"

Oh. Right. He wasn't the only wounded soldier in the hospital. She didn't know his name and a minute passed by before it clicked in her mind that she had the answer in her pocket. She took it out, her thumb swiping at the metal tag. "C. Kazama," she read out loud.

Dr. Matsumoto dropped his gaze and picked up a pen and continued rustling through the paperwork. Chizuru stared at him, noticing an annoyed look on his face.

"I didn't even get a chance to operate on him."

Los Angeles, 2017

"I'm telling you, this house party is going to be off the chain," Sen boasted, her face plastered to her iPhone. "Jesus, where the fuck is our Uber?"

Chizuru giggled. They both just passed their nursing exams and this wasn't really her idea of celebrating, but what the hell, it was time for her to finally enjoy her life.

The speakers blared Calvin Harris and Chizuru was ready to leave. It was crowded and Chizuru's petite frame kept bumping into dancing and drunk bodies. This was not her scene at all.

"You know what? I think I might just go back to my apartment and sleep," she yelled into Sen's ear.

"Bitch, we just got here," Sen clapped back, handing her a beer. Where the heck did she get that beer? Chizuru sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'm going to get some air, but I'm leaving with or without you," handing back the can of beer.

Chizuru headed to the backyard and she felt eyes following her there. The cold air hit her lungs, breathing new life into her. She walked toward a bench underneath a tree and sat down. She looked up into the tree. She couldn't remember the name of it, but she thought the pink and white petals were very pretty. It was definitely not native to California, probably from a foreign land, she thought.

"Hey," a deep voice said behind her. Chizuru jolted. She reached at her purse, like she had a gun or pepper spray in it, but who was she kidding—it could only fit her keys, cell phone and a stick of gum. She turned around slowly and saw a silhouette of a tall man a few feet away from her. She couldn't quite see his face, the moonlight and shadow hitting different angles of him.

"Uh, hey," she said right back to him. He moved in closer and he had a finger up to his lips, gesturing her to be quiet. Chizuru flushed red, embarrassed when she finally noticed the cell phone next to his ear. He wasn't talking to her.

"Tell Amagiri to put in that order. Yes, that one," he continued. "Fuck. I'll just take care of it," he sighed, hanging up on whoever he was talking to. "Useless piece of shit."

He sat down next to Chizuru, stuffing the phone in the front pocket of his jeans. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't scare you," he said, his body relaxing into the bench. "It's too fucking loud in that house."

Chizuru inched away from the man, giving him more space. She fidgeted in her seat, nervous by the proximity. "Yeah, it's so much cooler out here." Oh, my God, she was talking about the weather to him. She couldn't wait to leave.

The honey-blonde young man stared at her but his eyes were directed at her chest. Chizuru instinctively folded her arms, covering her cleavage. The man quickly turned away and cleared his throat.

"Shit, I'm sorry. You must think I'm a pervert," he coughed, his head still turned away. "You look too cute to be in the army," he said, his eyes finally meeting her gaze.

Chizuru touched the dog tags that hung around her neck. "Oh! I found this at a thrift shop," she laughed, playing with the metal pieces. "My friends think it's gaudy, but I don't know. I feel safe wearing it."

The air around them had shifted and they both were finally comfortable around each other. Time had passed them so quickly and Chizuru began to yawn. She took out her phone and glanced at the clock. It was 12:30 a.m.

"Oh, shit! I have to go find my friend," she said, putting her high heels back on. When did she take them off?

The young man looked disappointed. He stood up with her, his hands deep in his pockets. He towered over her, even with her three-inch heels on. "Yeah, okay," he fumbled his words. "I guess I'll see you around," his voice trailing at the last word.

Chizuru shrugged, giving him a half smile. "Sure. Maybe we'll run into each other again," she said.

She waved at him and walked slowly away from him. She didn't want to turn back, didn't want to know if he was watching her leave. I guess he's not interested, she thought. He didn't even ask me for my name.

A strong hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her back. He wrapped his arms around her, the warmth of him encompassed her.

"Don't go," he whispered in her ear. "I'm such a fucking idiot," he said, his arms releasing her. Chizuru turned around, shooting him a confused look.

"It would be cool and shit if we ran into each other again," he ranted, "but I don't want to wait a century, so I'm just going to ask for your number and call you tomorrow."

Chizuru's heart was dancing. A smile grew on her face and she took out her phone.

She nodded, a little too eager.