Honest thank you and love to MysteriousLittleChild, OniKuShita, 5namida, alohamiems and Entiya for reviewing!
Special Thanks to 5namida for beta-reading this chapter!
The Theme Song for the first scene of this Chapter is Reluctant Heroes from the Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin OST. Please, if possible, take a look at the lyrics because they are very beautiful and some lines greatly remind me of the things I have in mind for this story. You do not have to listen to it while reading, since it's not meant to build up the atmosphere. But it would be nice if you could somewhat feel the song's vibe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hakuoki.
Fiery Green
~Chapter 4~
Don't you know, forgotten is the life we led
Now it seems you don't care what the risk is
The peaceful times are what made us blind
It was like a nightmare and it's painful for me
Cause nobody wants to die too fast
Remember the day of grief
Now it's strange for me
I can see your face
I can hear your voice
From my heart
Don't fall Reluctant Heroes
Oh give me your strength, our life is so short
Don't fall Reluctant Heroes
I wanna be brave like you
Reluctant Heroes, Shingeki no Kyojin OST
Souji heaved a long deep sigh. It was unfair. Cruel and unfair.
A few hours ago specific Intel reached the Royal Guard's Headquarters speaking of some rowdy Roshi, that supposedly wrecked havoc at these parts of the city. Thus, he had to come all the way here in the middle of the night. Normally Souji would rejoice, for a chance to fight and slay enemies finally appeared.
But, things did not turn out as he hoped and expected. Not at all.
He hated this quietness. And he hated it with a passion. Because now he was supposed to battle and kill all men who were foolish enough to cross blades with him, or even more foolish as to pick a fight with the Royal Guard in general; not just pace down an abandoned street.
He huffed once again. "If walking back and forth around the area was worth the effort, I wouldn't complain much. But the bastards are nowhere in sight. It ticks me off. Don't you agree, Hajime-kun?"
Hajime did not utter a word as the two Divisions marched down the silent street. The lone sounds that ruled the night were the rhythmic meeting of their straw and wooden sandals against the earth and the slight sway of scabbards as their owners walked forwards.
"Boring," Souji intoned childishly and rather reluctantly continued heading west only to turn back again in order to patrol thoroughly. The lone two things that could persuade him not to scoot at the nearest bar, drink his favorite sake and pick a fight, in order to blow off some steam, was the silent, underlying promise of a –hopefully still quite possible- fight and Hajime-kun soundlessly accompanying him at his left, along with his division.
Okita decided not to put an end to the sudden wave of babbling whispers of his soldiers that soon erupted. He knew they had to pay a comment or two after this failure of an incident, much like he wanted to raid the nearest tavern.
"But Fukucho received information~"
"No. It was the Fifth Division that gathered the Intel. Don't mix the two and soil Hijikata-dono's name."
"But it wasn't the Fifth's fault either."
He needn't silence them. If he wanted to be honest with himself, though, it was not because he needed not to, exactly, but mostly because he failed to speak out in time; such was the raw abrupt force of the velocity in which it happened. But it deterred him not. Not even slightly.
Souji could hear the assaulting blade clearer and louder than his comrades' whispers. He heard it roaring for blood; its vehement intention to descend and pass its blind judgment of death upon him echoed and echoed incessantly in his ears.
He refused to succumb and obey to the silent begging of the impending death sentence. Like he always did.
Blades were released from their stifling confines, as Souji and Hajime unsheathed in an amazing but nonetheless tacit display of mastery, supremacy.
"Kumicho!"
Silver lines of light circled around each Captain, forming an orb matching the one ruling the heavens above, as the moon shimmered through the steel blades of their katana.
The characteristic wet sound of slicing flesh echoed through the backstreet. Bodies turned mortally limb and collapsed onto the cold dirt. Souji just barely dodged the spring of scarlet blood, preventing it from staining his haori.
The clamorous response to the lifeless carcasses spoiling the earth came in the form of thunderous, heavy footsteps. And shortly a rather unbidden crowd of thirty men surrounded the First and Third Division threateningly.
"Oh, it seems like my prayers were finally answered." Souji chuckled sardonically, eliciting yet no response from the ever taciturn and highly concentrated Hajime. "That's even better than sending an invitation," he added and closely regarded the group.
It was not long after that the acting Leader came to stand at the apex of the Royal Guard's formation, directly facing the Division Captains. Eyes, colored like dirt itself, bore profound holes as they battled Souji's emerald and Hajime's azure incisive hues.
"You!" he pointed a very offensive scorning index finger, which Souji suddenly desperately wanted to slice off his body. "Are you Okita Souji?"
Hajime only spared a silence meaningful glance to Souji, who was towering proudly at his right.
So, the bastard wants to play. Good, good. Couldn't have asked for a better chance.
"Hm? So what if I am? Do you perhaps have any business with me?" he teased, his so hellishly impish and mischievous smirk returned in ten times more mighty power to play and settle on his lips.
The man snorted in disgust and spit at the ground before them. Souji's sharp eyes followed the annoying repugnant drop with a great sense of insipidity.
Oh, how much he wanted to put his foot against the bastard's throat and make him drink his dirty spit directly from the ground.
"Such arrogance!" the Ronin hollered, making Souji slightly grimace. "Men, rejoice!" he addressed to his people. "Today shall be the day we avenge Miyabe-sensei and slay the dishonorable pig that reaped his life away!"
Okita blinked sheepishly and pointed a finger at his own chest in a rather facetious display of . . . frank but still quite hidden excitement.
Should I feel flattered?
"Huh. I don't remember the guy." He frowned, pretending to be emerged deep in thought. "Who was that again?"
Anger, no longer possible to suppress, surged from the entire body of the man before Souji, as he clamored and let out a shrill scream. "This is the day you pay for your impudence and insolence. Get him!"
No other order or plea needed to be uttered. Men marched forward; either clouded by vengeance or guided by the great sense of duty that came along the honor of being a member of the Royal Guard.
Swords clashed; metal sliced against metal, and flesh and bones and spirit, penetrating one body after the other in a dance of warmongering despair.
Katana sung their own vociferous melody of death as the moon glinted off the steel and wickedly blinked at the wielders.
Warm blood, that wasn't his own, cascaded down Souji's always partially exposed chest. He parried, ducked and turned, swiveled and smiled sardonically. His lips stretched even further upon watching Hajime dashing a few steps away as his unmatched sword slaughtered everything in a silent and yet so stentorian display of sovereignty, domination, superiority.
Souji roared with laughter and thundered in battle more passionately than a War God himself. His blade conquered everything on its glorious bloody path, ordered by none other than the frantic rhythm of his galloping heart.
"Teee, I am beat!" Heisuke grunted as he plopped down on the floor in surrender.
"Your clothes are soaked in blood. Don't just lie there. You will stain the floor as well," Saito noted, while carefully cleaning his blade using the cold water and white cloth Yamazaki Susumu just previously offered him.
Heisuke reluctantly straightened up. "Moo, Hajime-kun."
Muffled voices were suddenly heard from the Hall, as the last members of the Guard finally returned to Headquarters.
"Yo!" Sano greeted upon entering the room. "Today was rather fun, don't you think?" he chuckled while untying the knot that secured his Hitai-ate. The Tenth Division was the hindmost to arrive, and upon sighting the last of their remaining comrades returning mostly unscathed, the rest of the men seemed to unconsciously breathe a sigh of relief.
"Sano!" Nagakura raised his fist to bump it with Harada's. "How did it go?"
"You know, the usual."
"If I may, what I don't understand is," Yamazaki, one of the Guard's highest-ranking officers beside the Division Captains, started "why the groups seemed to belong to the same regiment and yet not."
"Eh? What is that supposed to mean, Yamazaki-kun?" Souji probed, finally disrobing from his bloody haori and soaking it into the basin along with the rest of their tarnished clothing.
"What is so difficult to grasp, Souji?" Hijikata angrily sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Your foes claimed to have come to enact vengeance against you. Wasn't that what was included in yours and Saito's report?"
Hm, probably.
"Yes, Fukucho," Hajime assumed the liberty of clarifying.
"But what business did they have with us?" Sano continued the trail of thought. "Not that I minded a little bit of action, per se. But none of the bastards we encountered spoke of Souji. As though it was about something else entirely."
"Impossible!" Heisuke exclaimed, while receiving a dump cloth from Shinpachi to wipe his arms after the larger man finished with his own. "If they only wanted Souji, why would they attack all Divisions at the same time?"
Shinpachi grunted. "That was stupid. The bastards didn't even have an ounce of true warrior spirit in them. They fought like freaking amateurs."
"They also allowed precious Intel on them to leak," Saito pointed out nonchalantly, having in mind that they moved out because of several reports on some ronin in the first place.
"Now that I think about it... Maybe they wanted to attack all troops simultaneously to prevent us from helping Souji or something. That's the only reason I can come up with."
"Hmm, smells fishy to me. If they were so well prepared, they would have brought more capable fighters for us to battle, Heisuke," Sano commented, as he finally finished cleaning the tip of his Yari. He was also very curious about the meager skills they displayed. It simply made no sense.
Saito nodded in agreement. "And if they wished for misleading information to purposefully spread on their favor they would have enacted the plan in more detail."
Many heads shook affirmatively, before one voice towered over them all.
"One thing was made obvious today." Hijikata straightened his posture and addressed to all the Captains that occupied the chamber. "Our enemies have started initiating their plans of attack. Coordinated or not, those attacks were not random."
None uttered a single word at this conclusion.
"When Kondou-san returns from the Meeting, I shall inform him thoroughly of tonight's incident. But you should all remember. Do not act recklessly and keep your eyes peeled. This is not a time we can afford to be absent-minded."
Brown eyes blinked sleepily under the sheets. One coy and reluctant hand slowly rose from under the thin coverlet.
"Mmmm" was the only sound that slipped past her lips.
Chizuru rolled to the side to face the ceiling with eyes emptied of every coherent feeling. A vagrant ray of light invaded her personal space and shined just upon her rosy cheek; it was a small nudge that she needed in order to properly wake and prepare for the day.
A pair of unwilling slender legs kicked the sheet away as they came into view and with one last decisive thrust the girl pulled herself into a standing position. She slightly wobbled, but soon managed to reach the small table that was placed in her small poorly-furnitured room and grab her usual attire.
She disrobed of her pink night gown and put on her long favorite gray skirt. In a rare moment of self-awareness and peculiar concern over her general appearance she grabbed a yellow linen belt, that Sannan-san had once presented to her as a birthday gift, and secured it around her small waist with a delicate knot, placing it just above the hem of her skirt. The fabric was wide enough to reach just under her navel. That way she surprisingly felt slightly more covered, since the traditional skirts just barely covered enough area to reach her hip bones.
How ridiculous, Chizuru often mused. The skirts reached easily down to her ankles. Why couldn't the weavers spare a little fabric to use on the upper part, then?
Shaking her head to prevent herself from yammering again about her attire, she carefully eyed a lime colored breast-band she owned, that was of her liking today, and secured it tightly around her chest. She also picked up her favorite traditional bracelets, secured them around her upper arm, and chose one of her most comfortable pairs of anklets to adorn her feet.
A few minutes later she had already washed her face and teeth and was heading towards her workshop.
"Good morning!' she waved jovially at her senior.
Sannan-san paused his work for a moment to regard his apprentice. "Good morning, Yukimura-kun," he smiled warmly and cordially. "You look so full of life and energy. I surely hope you ate the bread I left for you at the table."
Well, she didn't. But he needn't have to know that. Chizuru did not usually like to lie, no matter the reason. Thus, she said nothing. Instead she sent him a very warm debonair smile.
Sannan closed his eyes for a second, slowly releasing a silent breath."I am afraid we'll have many orders to deliver and take care of today," he murmured skeptically.
Chizuru drew her palms together in front of her chest. "I am glad to hear that!" she honestly exclaimed.
Sannan chuckled. "Here I am complaining about the load of work and you look enthusiastic. Age must be catching up on me."
She blinked in surprise. "No, Sannan-san, it's just-" But she found no proper words right away. "You are not old!" she lastly defended, but he only chuckled more.
Toudou Heisuke was a man renowned for his enthusiasm. Always thirsty for adventure and adrenaline, always excited; hardly never could one find him not smiling in glee and mirth.
Now, though, his precious smile and mesmerizing blue-green hues were clouded by a strong sense of despondency and despair.
"It's the end. . . It's ruined. Totally ruined. . ." he sobbed and mumbled, gaze held lowered in grief.
Sano just entered the room, initially in order to retrieve his haori to head out on patrol, only to spot the boy sulking at the balcony. "What is ruined?" he probed curiously.
Shinpachi, who had already worn his own haori and prepared himself for his rounds, silently pointed at the blade lying abandoned a few steps away from Heisuke. Sano neared the katana and inspected it closely, but without picking it up. Because the problem was brightly obvious even from afar.
"Who or what on earth damaged it so much?"
Shinpachi didn't get to warn Sano in time. His palm clammed the red-haired's mouth shut a moment too late.
Upon hearing those words, Heisuke nervously tapped his feet against the floor repeatedly. "Ahhhh!" he grunted and indignantly pulled at his hair, in a manner that felt very much unsettling to his friends.
Sano slapped Shinpachi's hand away from his mouth and turned to whisper. "What the hell happened?" But Shinpachi did not get to answer.
"It's totally in rags! I cannot use it anymore! It's ruined, I am telling ya!"
Shinpachi's face contorted in mild annoyance and indignation as he explained."He's been like that since morning," he huffed.
"What is this hellishly awful cry? Did anyone skewer a kitten or something?" the very familiar voice of Souji entered the ensemble, the moment he and Hajime just returned from their early morning rounds.
"Kitten!?" Heisuke hollered in shock, but soon averted his inane eyes, that only momentarily turned to regard Souji and Hajime, and cast them towards the horizon again.
"Is something the matter?" Saito wondered, removing his haori and assessing this plight of a spectacle.
"No." Shinpachi shook his head. "Just Heisuke."
Which, frankly, was a problem and a worrying matter by itself.
"Oya, who is dumb enough to leave his blade unsheathed in the middle of the floor?" Souji asked mockingly and picked the blade up. "Wait till I pass these news to Hijikata-san."
"Shuuush!" Shinpachi brought a finger to his own lips, signaling Souji to silence. To no avail again, though. Heisuke let out another clamorous sob the very moment Souji's taunting words reached his ears.
At the same time, another person in the room couldn't possibly tolerate such a blatant mistreating of a precious blade. He nodded to Souji, who complied and handed him the weapon from the hilt.
When the next words were finally paid, Heisuke, still adamantly refusing to turn towards the others, wailed and pulled on his hair even more fiercely.
"This blade is done for," Hajime concluded.
It wasn't like Heisuke did not know. Oh, he knew, the moment he grasped his blade again this morning. And right that very moment he curled his fingers around the hilt and measured his long steel companion he could feel the fingers of dread poking at the base of his spine. Heisuke was quite aware –perhaps more than quite- this whole plight was his own fault and no one else's.
It was true that he had been very much enthusiastic during last night's endeavors, but he never would have imagined he would be dumb enough to damage his blade so greatly. And thus, he could do nothing but mourn for the irreplaceable loss.
"I know, dammit!" he sobbed again.
Shinpachi stepped closer to him and patted his friend's shoulder affectionately. "It served its purpose. Now it's time to bid your old buddy goodbye, Heisuke," he tried to console the younger man.
"But, I don't wanna!"
Souji rolled his eyes. "Heisuke, you are yammering like a spoiled brat."
"Shinpachi is right, Heisuke. Make peace with what happened. Nothing can be done now, can it?" At those last words Sano turned to Saito, the glorified sword-loving-expert of the group, who understood his tacit question and shook his head.
No.
"It's proper time you visit the artisan," Saito suggested, his voice laced with a great sense of finality.
Heisuke's eyes shot up to furiously glower at Hajime. "Artisan? The blacksmith? Easy for you to say, Hajime-kun. My wage is hardly enough for that!" he cried once again.
Sano and Shinpachi shared indignant glasses. Their patience was running out. One more ear-piercing cry like that and Heisuke would promptly end up face-first on the pavement.
"Yare yare, Heisuke. That's a blatant lie. Your wage is enough to support the purchase of a good blade. The problem is that you spend it drinking at the brothels, instead," Souji pointed out teasingly and plopped down at the nearest chair.
That, apparently, was deemed enough to stir and rouse Heisuke from his spot. The boy suddenly leaped and pulled himself in a quite provoking standing position. Souji curiously observed Heisuke's small fingers curling into tense fists at his sides.
"Y-you shut it, Souji! You're not one to talk about brothels!"
"Heisuke," Hajime demanded his attention. The boy turned to look at him closely as Saito uttered out rationally and perfectly calmly. "You cannot battle with a weakened blade."
Toudou lowered his head and cast his gaze at the floor in shame. "I know." His voice just barely reached above a whisper. "But-"
"You are a Captain," he stressed the word emphatically, "of the Royal Guard. If you do not take care of your weapon, then you deserve no-"
"Alright, alright! Geez. I understand. I swear, Hajime-kun, you sound like Hijikata-san sometimes."
Saito batted his eyes once. "I must admit, I fail to understand why you seem to have intended those words as an insult."
"Yeah, I figured. You Hijikata-weirdo!" Heisuke grunted and rubbed the side of his head exasperatedly.
A moment later blue-green eyes, hiding silent pleas, landed at Shinpachi. He shook his head. "Sorry, Heisuke, but Sano and I have some patrolling to do." He lifted his hand to show his haori and Sano's; they were almost ready to depart. In fact they were rather late. And they absolutely did not want to confront an angered Hijikata. "You have to go without us."
Heisuke's face fell dramatically and his shoulders sagged in disappointment. He lowered his gaze towards the ground, but soon a pair of legs slid into view. He raised his head again only to tryst Hajime's firm gaze.
"You accompanied me when I needed it," he showed him his new attire, which he had already started wearing, "and I shall return the favor."
Heisuke finally allowed his lips to stretch in order to form his first honest smile for the day. And after witnessing this small attempt towards retrieving the old Heisuke back from the clutches of sulkiness, the whole room seemed to heave a silent breath of candid relief.
"Wait," Souji exclaimed and secured at his belt his wakizashi and katana, that cried for a chance to be properly taken care of by a technician. "I am coming too."
"Oh, no!" She couldn't stem the small cry that left her lips. Sannan suddenly appeared from behind the door, eyes blinking curiously.
"Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"
Chizuru shook her head vehemently. "No. But, my. . .apron. . ." she trailed off and showed him the clothing.
It was nearly all burnt up.
"How did this happen?" Sannan asked, nearing to inspect the fabric. He knew Yukimura-kun would never neglect to properly put the apron at its rightful –and safe- place. After all, it was very dear to her and essential in this line of work; it protected her from the roaring heat of the forged blades and the sharpness of their steel.
"I do not know. I just left it here yesterday evening. Like always," she explained and after he craned his neck towards her, Chizuru handed him the apron.
He inspected the damage for a second. "It looks almost completely burnt." Chizuru's eyes widened in shock and consternation. "It must have made contact with some kind of scorching substance or a surface heated enough to burn it."
"But it never had before, and-"
"I am confident that you took care of it as you were supposed to Yukimura-kun," he reassured. "But this poor piece of fabric has suffered enough as it is already. After all, you use it for many years. Am I wrong?"
Chizuru silently shook her head once more and heaved out a sigh. A warm hand came to pat her head affectionately.
"Fear not. I shall buy a new one for you today."
Her eyes snapped to meet his. "No, please, you don't need to! I-"
"You can't possibly busy yourself with the ironworks without a proper apron," he interrupted her. "What if you get burnt despite your greatest efforts? You are very talented, yes. But you and I both are aware of the mighty power and danger that comes hand in hand with forging and wielding a blade. You shall work in the front counter today."
"But-"
"I won't accept no for an answer, Yukimura-kun. We have many orders to take care of. I cannot afford to risk your health. I was meaning to go to the Central Street and make some purchases anyway. I will be back soon and you will be able to resume your work. Alright?"
Under his mighty prompting gaze, that seemed to reach deep within her mind and soul, she had no choice but to accept the conditions and nod affirmatively.
He promptly released her from his firm eye-lock and moved to pick up a list of items he needed to buy.
"Sannan-san," Chizuru started hesitantly. He veered to look at her. "Since you are going to the Market, do you think you could pick up a brush or two? The latest order pushed our old brushes to the limits, I fear."
In order to properly explain she showed him the scabbard she was working on the day before and the brushes she used, which were by now rendered nearly useless.
Sannan nodded and scribbled something down on his list. "Of course. I'll be sure to get a couple of good brushes. The order is scheduled to be delivered by the start of the next week, yes?"
"Right. In four days," she clarified.
"Good," he replied and soon was ready to head out.
Chizuru saw the man off with a great sense of sadness marring her features. She hated having to sit to the counter. And she passionately despised the fact that she had to perform this task without her apron to cover her body.
Lost in her own private delirium she decided to clean the front counter a little, beside the fact that it was already clean enough, and arrange a couple of tools the way she thought fit. As she whirled around, dusting, wiping and generally putting some order in the shop, she was once again reminded why she hated being in the front counter. It felt too much. . . something. Was it the light? The view? She snorted in an un-lady-like manner at these options, but upon realizing what she did clamped her mouth shut with both hands. She heaved a sigh of relief when she ascertained that she was alone in the store and none was present to see her ridiculing herself by snorting like that. Fortunately for her, customers had yet to arrive to stress the matter more.
Without realizing, her feet guided her back in her work place only a heartbeat after.
If anyone comes in, I'll hear the bell ring. I don't have to stand there like an idiot.
Chizuru deeply inhaled and wiped just a little bit of her –almost constantly neat- counter. That's when she noticed them. The brushes.
She was the one that was responsible for buying them the previous time. She knew for a fact that the owner of the shop that sells this specific branch was by now quite senile. He displayed great difficulty into measuring the worth, material and size of each brush as of late. Not to mention that the numbers of the sizes changed those last couple of months because of a new brand that was recently introduced and rumored to have stirred the entire brush market. That was the exact reason she had to buy new ones the last time around.
Sannan-san would probably need to show their previous brushes in order to acquire the right ones; same size, same material. If the new ones were different than the old, then the difference might be horribly visible on the scabbard's artwork; maybe not before the customer's eyes, but neither Chizuru nor Sannan-san would ever allow themselves to deliver an order not done carefully and perfectly up to the last tiniest detail.
Her contemplation was paused midway by the distinct sound of the entrance bell, that chimed and woke her from her stupor.
She ran towards the front and locked her eyes expectantly at the person who entered the shop.
"I was about to come and get you, Sannan-san. You forgot the-"
But it was not a person that entered the store. They were people; three of them. And Chizuru was confident that she had never set her eyes on them ever before. If she had, she would have remembered, because those three men were, truly, breath-taking-ly beautiful.
*Hitai-ate: Forehead protector
Author's Note
The first scene was obviously based on and inspired by the first scene on Episode 1 of Hakuouki Sekkaroku. I hope you liked it!
I have...nothing else to say, I think. I simply hope you are as excited as I am for Chapter 5. (^.~) If you are, please let me know, yes? Your kind words are my inspiration!
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Note on the last chapter
I would like to clear any misunderstandings or confusion. Some of you mentioned to me that they spotted two particular mistakes on Chapter 3. I want you to know that both were, in a way, intended. Allow me to explain: I used 'wont' as habit, not 'won't', you see. And the [e]xpected was left un-capitalized because I wanted to show that Chizuru's thoughts were interrupted by the loud dialogue and the boys' rambunctious voices. I really wished to properly explain that to you all. I used some 'tricks' to show more clearly what I wanted to portray, so I hope all is fine now.
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Thanks for reading! Please give a meaning to my efforts by simply leaving a review! One word is fine, if you prefer. I just want to know if you enjoyed my work!
