Chapter Four: First Gate: Meditation
Dark clouds loomed in the sky as Chizuru dashed across headquarters under cover of a parasol. The air was thick and warm, curling atop the trees with an electric pulse. By the time she reached the garrison, a soft drizzle had filled the yard, turning it silver. She took a moment to adjust the basket against her hip, reaching out to rap cold knuckles against the doorframe.
"Good morning," Senhime greeted, sliding the door ajar. Her carmine gaze absorbed the girl's damp appearance, and she quickly moved to take the basket. "My goodness, you are already wet! Come in, come in."
Chizuru smiled, grateful for the assistance.
"Good morning!" She chirped. Pulling the parasol shut, she leaned it against the doorway. "I've brought the blankets you requested, Osen-chan. I hope there are enough. Inoue says there's a small draft in the far room, but we should have it repaired before tonight. I have an extra oil lamp I can lend you as well."
"You are most attentive, Chizuru," smiled the demoness as she set the spare blankets aside. Glancing at the clouds, she added, "You know…this weather constitutes a poor day for chores, but an excellent day for training. Why don't you come inside?"
Curious, Chizuru slipped through the threshold and froze in shock.
Rich shadows and warm lamplight flickered in the dimness of the room, catching her by surprise. There was a confusion of texture: burnished metal, wood, and rough-spun threads edged in antique gold. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the room was rich enough to receive a lord's cortege.
A tremor of excitement seized her.
Glancing down at her socks, she spotted a large heirloom rug rolling out into spiraling designs across the room. Ornate paper lanterns hung suspended from the floor by silver chains, and a collection of cushions gathered under a sleek table in the center of the room. In the corner, there was a set of shelves filled with scrolls and a painted globe. All the extravagance of the world under one roof.
"Do you like what we've done to the place?" Senhime ventured with bright eyes.
Chizuru struggled for composure. "It's...lovely."
'Lovely' was a gross understatement, but she was too enthralled with the transformation to give a proper response. She found it hard to believe that this was the same empty barracks she had just seen a few days ago: musty, moldering, and dull.
"Amazing what a few decorations can do," said Senhime, as she looked on triumphantly. "The Shinsengumi ought to think about hiring someone to boost the morale around this place. It's as cheerful as a prison."
Chizuru cracked a smile, wondering for a moment what that version of headquarters would do to the men living inside its walls.
"It's supposed to be that way, Osen-chan," she laughed, "soldiers have no need of opulence. It belies discipline."
"True, but it makes things more comfortable for you, don't you think?"
"Oh, I'm content here. I've adapted to the lifestyle."
Senhime studied her through narrowed eyes.
"Well...the food is good at least." Chizuru faltered.
Senhime chuckled.
"Speaking of which," she brightened, "Have you had breakfast yet?"
Chizuru shook her head.
"Good, sit with me then. Kimigiku is making something special for you."
Senhime guided Chizuru toward the table and ushered her onto a cushion embroidered with plum blossoms. Folding her legs underneath her, Chizuru clasped her hands as she watched the demoness take a seat from across the table.
The two women sat, staring at one another expectantly.
"So," began Chizuru, casting another eye at the room, "are you enjoying your stay so far?"
The demoness grinned.
"Kimigiku and I were officially indoctrinated into a division. We participated in our first patrol yesterday."
"How did it go?"
"Splendid, I suppose," she answered, voice flat and sardonic. "We did it to establish our aliases."
"Who led the division?"
"The one they call 'Shinpachi Nagakura.' Tall man, long legs."
"Oh," Chizuru sighed, worried that Senhime had experienced something unpleasant. "Shinpachi throws out a difficult pace, but only because he's in competition with Sanosuke right now. They had an argument after Heisuke left, and so every patrol they try to break each other's record and…," Chizuru's voice trailed off, as she realized Senhime was listening with wry amusement.
"I'm rambling." She apologized, feeling like she had shared too much. "Compound politics. You needn't concern yourself."
Senhime looked on with interest, privately intrigued that this young girl was so immersed in militant life. The fact that she was so aware of the personalities and activities of the officers ran perfectly parallel to the life she imagined Chizuru had enjoyed in her hometown. She was a sweet girl and hearing her account of the captains' grudges informed the demoness that she genuinely cared about them. Chizuru had managed to secure a place in this encampment. No wonder she felt compelled to prove its merits to an outsider like Senhime.
"It must feel strange having us here," she gathered. "Oni and kunoichi living right next door – in a den full of swordsmen no less."
Chizuru grew serious.
"On the contrary, I am grateful we have this opportunity, Osen-chan. You come at a most distressing time."
"As am I."
The girl visibly relaxed, feeling relieved that Senhime seemed comfortable in her temporary new home.
"Now that we no longer have a captive audience, I thought we could discuss the details of your training." Senhime proposed as she rested her arms on the table in a casual manner. She had abandoned her red armguards and swords, but still played the part of a dutiful soldier in her white hakama. "But first, why don't you to tell me everything you know about demons."
Thinking carefully, Chizuru relied on her experience with the rasetsu to formulate her response. "They're fast and powerful," she stated easily. "They have an inhuman strength which makes them impervious to mortal wounds. Their blood has healing properties too."
"Something you have experienced yourself, no doubt," said Senhime. "Wounds healing of their own accord, energy replenishing, constant immunity to sickness." Chizuru nodded. "It is the mark of a pureblood."
"I always assumed it was my father's herbs or my imagination," Chizuru confessed.
"Now you know why," smiled Senhime. "What about Kazama? What do you know of him?"
Chizuru paused, unsure of where to begin.
"He's different," she acknowledged after a moment. The most recent encounter she had with the demon replayed in her mind, resurfacing feelings of entrapment and terror. She felt the swift pain in her ribs followed by the warmth of his body as he glanced at her through eyes bright as wildfire. She shifted uncomfortably. "He appears and disappears – almost like an apparition." She continued. "He can make himself invisible whenever it suits him. He can even change his appearance too. I've seen it. His eyes will turn gold and his hair white. He can conjure blue fire too."
Senhime drilled her nails on the table.
"So, he's using his chikara," She said disapprovingly. "I thought that might be the case."
"His what?"
"Chikara; his demon power." She explained. "Kazama manipulates his power so that he can increase his strength and cast illusions. Although quite useful, it is considered wrong to use it against humans. It is an unnecessary advantage."
Chizuru's confusion turned into bewilderment.
"Demons can manipulate power?"
Senhime gawked. "Good heavens, Chizuru. You might be the first pureblood in a thousand years to have such little knowledge of the Demon Arts!"
Chizuru blinked. "Really?"
"Oh, I don't know," Senhime cooled down, as she thought about it. "It just seems so strange to me. The thought of going through your entire adolescence without awakening your gifts…what did you do for fun?"
Chizuru was thrown off by the question, finding this whole conversation odd.
"Never mind – you're right, I'm getting ahead of myself," said Senhime, waving a hand in the air. "We have so much to cover, my dear." Glancing at the bookshelf against the wall, she rose to her feet and began perusing her collection of literature and knick-knacks.
"Traditionally, demon offspring learn to control their power through their parents, but you were robbed of that chance," said Senhime with a troubled look. "So, we'll just start from the beginning," She said, gliding fingers across the shelves. Starting from the right and working her way left, she eventually grew uncertain. "Now, I know it's here somewhere," she murmured with a small frown. After a few minutes of checking one or two boxes and a few scroll cases, the demoness tapped her foot against the floor, vexed.
"KIMI-CHAN," She shouted suddenly, causing Chizuru to flinch, "WHERE'S THAT ANCESTRAL TOTEM WE BROUGHT OVER FROM THE ESTATE? DO YOU REMEMBER?"
"Milady?" A faint voice filtered through the room.
"YOU KNOW, THE SCROLL WITH THE SNAKESKIN COVERING," Senhime hollered over her shoulder. "HAVE YOU SEEN IT?"
There was a brief pause before the kunoichi shouted back, "second shelf on the right next to the jade bookend!"
"Which bookend?"
"The one shaped like a carp."
"I don't see it."
"Above the woodblock print then," the kunoichi sighed.
Senhime stood back to search. "Which woodblock print?"
"Milady…," Kimigiku droned.
"Ah! Here it is," Senhime clapped her hands victoriously. "Right in front of me. THANKS, KIMI-CHAN!"
"…you're welcome," came the kunoichi's dull reply.
Chizuru stifled a laugh, thinking that perhaps there was too much opulence in the room.
Senhime took a moment to collect her composure, retrieving the scroll from the shelf before returning to the table.
"Now we can begin your first lesson."
Intrigued, Chizuru leaned forward as her mentor pulled the scroll from its case to reveal a spool of parchment wrapped around ivory dowels. Senhime tugged the fragile thing open and laid it gingerly on the table.
"This is one of the last surviving illustrations created by my ancestor." She informed Chizuru with reverence. "It depicts the origin of our power."
Accustomed to reading her father's medical diagrams, Chizuru studied the illustration with experienced eyes. She saw the bones, tissues, organs, and blood vessels of a typical anatomy chart, but the figure on the parchment was assailed with cobalt-inked lines that traveled in and out of the body in a complex arrangement. Tracing their path with her eyes, Chizuru discovered that they led to a plume of fire at the center of the body. Across the internal flame, someone had inked thinly scrawled characters that read: Akuma no chikara. Demon power.
"Our essence is here," Senhime pointed to the cobalt flame, "in the center point of our being between heart and soul. The chikara is the medium in which we manipulate our reality."
Placing a hand over her heart, Chizuru wondered if she was truly in possession of such a thing.
"When Kazama conjures flames, he's awakening his essence," said Senhime. "When doing so, a pureblood is at their most powerful. The manifestation of our chikara is what turns our eyes gold and our hair white. Those are our true markings."
What happened next was a stretch of the imagination.
A pocket of air was sucked into a vacuum above their heads, and Chizuru looked up just in time to witness Senhime burst into a soft swirl of fire. The blue-and-gold light rippled, filling the room with the scent of fresh ozone. Chizuru balked, her body remembering the last time she came into contact with demon fire. But unlike Kazama's serrated flames, the light around Senhime continued to unfurl like a bolt of satin, soft and warm. At the center, a graceful figure reclined. Gone was the earthly, human coloring of the young woman Chizuru had come to know, and in her place sat a perfect stranger. It was a foreign, unnatural beauty. Her golden irises shined brightly in the dimness, soft hair framing her face, brighter than the white silk of her hakama. It only lasted for a moment, but it was enough to leave a strong impression. Senhime blinked once, and the illusion was gone.
A shiver ran through Chizuru. I don't think I'll ever get used to that.
"Tea is ready."
Kimigiku strolled into the room with a tray balanced in her right hand. Chizuru noticed that she had abandoned her warrior's garb for a simple kimono, yet she kept the samurai queue. The blend of feminine and masculine attire was jarring, yet Chizuru thought it suited her.
"I brought the concoction, milady." The kunoichi informed as she set the tea service a safe distance from the scroll. Curling atop a cushion, she grinned at Chizuru.
"Let's begin, shall we?"
Senhime withdrew from the table and began to pace.
"Your training boils down to this, Chizuru: you must learn to manipulate your chikara to have access to your other powers. This demon art is known as the First Gate." She instructed, gesturing to the golden seal at the corner of the illustration. "Without mastering the First Gate, you cannot go on to fulfill all Seven Gates of the Demon Arts. It must be done in sequence."
Seems simple enough. Chizuru thought.
"How do I master the First Gate?" She asked.
Senhime clasped her hands together. "Through meditation," she answered. "All purebloods must learn to control their power before they gain the right to use it. Meditation will hone your ability to extract your essence."
"Okay," replied Chizuru. "When do we start?"
Kimigiku shook her head.
"Milady, you make it sound too easy," accused the kunoichi. "Have you forgotten how difficult it was for you to master the First Gate?"
The bright and shining aura surrounding Senhime deflated, as she turned petulant eyes on her protector.
"Of course, I remember. After months of meditation, I swore that if I ever heard another medicine bowl it would be too soon." She said, aghast. "But as much as I want to give Chizuru a fair chance, the clock is ticking. Kazama is in hot pursuit, and the quicker she masters the First Gate, the more likely she will be able to master the other six gates."
"Then how do you suggest we speed up time?"
Senhime crossed her arms, appearing smug. "I have an idea."
Chizuru glanced at Kimigiku for reassurance, but the woman merely hunched her shoulders. "This ought to be good," she mumbled.
Senhime resumed her slow pacing near the table.
"Demons are essentially designed for survival. Place us in a difficult environment, and the likelihood of our power triggering to life increases exponentially." She explained. "In theory, if we worsen Chizuru's physical conditions, she should be able to sync with her power ten times faster than the time it took for me to achieve the First Gate."
"In theory," Kimigiku echoed doubtfully.
Oni and kunoichi glanced at Chizuru.
"Remember when I said you would have to follow my instructions with no objection?" Senhime asked.
Straightening her spine, Chizuru nodded. "Yes."
"This is one of those times," warned Senhime.
The severity of her voice and Kimigiku's bleak expression frightened Chizuru.
"To pass through the First Gate, you will have to overcome hunger, thirst, and solitude," Senhime explained as she held up three fingers. "Depriving the body of material needs will cause it to react. Thus, you must abstain from nourishment and companionship while you meditate."
An incredulous snort sounded from across the table.
"This is your great idea?" Kimigiku arched a brow. "A fasting?"
Senhime shot the woman a reproving look.
"If done right – Kimigiku – we can trick her body into triggering her power to life." She said, patting Chizuru gently. "Think of it as a…retreat of sorts. A monastic pilgrimage to the inner spirituality of Chizuru Yukimura! Hmm? Doesn't that sound nice?"
Chizuru stared at the demoness.
"I must forgo socialization until I unlock my power?"
"As well as starvation and dehydration," added the kunoichi. "Boy, this day is shaping up to be quite exciting for you."
Chizuru wished she hadn't skipped the kitchen on her way to the garrison that morning. She had told the truth when she said the food was good. Inoue was scheduled to make dumplings for breakfast that morning, and her stomach was already growling in protest. Missing Inoue's favorite family recipe caused her shoulders to wilt in dejection.
Kimigiku pushed the tea toward Chizuru.
"This is a herb-infused bitter that tricks the body of its cravings. My family uses it for field work." Kimigiku revealed with a small frown. Piecing together how it would be beneficial to the lesson, she turned to Chizuru and advised, "Drink it. It will suppress your hunger pangs."
Chizuru complied, already feeling quite the martyr.
Raised as the daughter of a physician, she knew skipping one or two meals a day was not a cause for concern if it was a temporary situation. Unfortunate souls had been known to survive days, maybe even weeks, without a single crumb in sight. If what Senhime said was true – that demons were designed to survive – then Chizuru felt she could handle that aspect of the training with relative sufficiency. What did trouble her; however, was the imminent task of solidifying her demon power. For all she knew, Senhime could be asking her to capture smoke with her bare hands.
How does a person go about channeling something that has never been touched, seen, or felt? She wondered.
The reality of the situation diminished her enthusiasm. Chizuru realized this would be far more difficult than she had originally anticipated. Senhime was well versed in the Demon Arts, but if it had taken her months of meditation to awaken her power, then there was little hope for Chizuru.
Even so, she had to try.
Clearing her mind of any reservations, Chizuru lifted her mug and drank.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Tock… Tock… Tock… Tock…
The souzu fountain served as the peripheral metronome of Hajime Saito's thoughts as he gazed indifferently across the spacious garden of his new residency. Quite comfortable in his white scarf and black silk, the swordsman raised ultraviolet eyes to the perpetual gloom and wondered when the rain would ever stop.
At this rate, there wouldn't be a single cherry blossom left.
"Saito-san." Heisuke greeted as he leaped onto the veranda. Rainwater drenched him from head to toe, but the plum coat over his shoulders soaked up most of the moisture. Reclining next to the previous third division captain, he peeled it off to rub warmth back into his limbs. "Itou-san has secured the deeds to our new base, so the recruits will be moving in any minute now. We've each been given apartments in the east wing."
Saito remained still. "Such favors are needless."
"Why do you say that?" Heisuke frowned. "We're of captain level. We have a reputation to resume amongst the men. Itou expects it."
"We were of captain level, Heisuke. We left that behind." Saito reminded his younger colleague. "We're now a part of the Mausoleum's Guard."
An unnatural silence grew between them, and Heisuke began to fidget.
"Even so, we are still well-known among the men. They've resorted to calling you the Stone Wolf, you know." He baited hoping to extract a reaction out of his monotonous friend. "Quite frankly, your lack of enthusiasm makes me wonder why you decide to join up with Itou-san in the first place."
Saito chose his words carefully.
"For similar reasons as your own. I wished to expand my horizon and explore both sides of this unrelenting war. Ignorance is the enemy of wisdom."
"Always the strategist." Heisuke sighed with a grin." I have to agree with you though. If I'm going to be risking my life for a greater cause, I want it to be the right one, you know?"
Saito shifted his gaze and saw a burning conflict flare in the boy's cerulean eyes. For one so young, Heisuke demonstrated rare insight. Most young soldiers rushed into war for personal glory, whereas Heisuke was deliberating what national cause was worth sacrificing his life for. Only a true samurai would be that selfless.
Saito frowned.
Little hope remained for this country if it forced its youth like Heisuke into early graves.
What a waste, he mulled dismally.
Even if the pendulum was swinging, drawing nearer and nearer to their end, Saito and Heisuke were the masters of their destiny. If the political storm should unravel to chaos, they would always have a fighting chance. Saito would see to that.
Lifting gracefully to his feet, he held a hand out to the boy.
"Let's go inside before you catch a cold. There's got to be a bottle of sake somewhere in this place."
At the mention of libations, Heisuke grew most compliant. Using Saito's hand as leverage, he stood on his feet and strode forward.
"I know where they keep a whole pantry full." He confessed with a copious grin.
Saito suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
"If I'm the Stone Wolf," he murmured under his breath, "then you are the Plastered Pup."
. . . . . . . . . .
The day was fading fast with deteriorating conditions, and still, Chizuru had yet to be seen emerging from the barracks. Her absence was noticed during breakfast, lunch, and dinner but Senhime informed the officers that she was undergoing intense training, and therefore, could not be disturbed.
"She's aligning with herself," Senhime explained. "To do this, she must not enlist any help from the outside, including me."
"What sort of perverse training removes the teacher from the lesson?" Hijikata demanded of the female oni.
Senhime lifted her chin. "Chizuru is testing her mental fortitude. As for the rest, I cannot disclose to you. Knowledge of the Demon Arts is forbidden to humans."
The vice-commander radiated a dark enough aura to rival the torrential pour from outside. Sensing his anger, Kondou jumped into the conversation before Hijikata could induce further insult.
"I'm sure Yukimura's perseverance is unwavering." He stated graciously. "We will cease our concern and support her from the outside, right Toshi?"
Hijikata refused to conform to Kondou's peacekeeping routine. Dropping his chopsticks onto the tray, he excused himself from the room without words. No one stopped him.
"What a foul man." Senhime seethed with a scowl. "He has the conversational charm of a toadstool."
"Worse, actually," Kimigiku added in agreement.
Kondou raked a hand through his hair in evident remorse.
"I apologize. He's currently under a lot of pressure that deprives him of his pleasantries." He implored. "He tends to get this way when he's worked himself to exhaustion."
Senhime appeared unsympathetic.
"I do not condone negligence, commander." She responded coolly. "He should know his own limits. I will not be the conduit for his anger."
At the back of the room, Souji cleared his throat.
"Kondou-san, I'll speak with him." He assured the head commander.
With the weather forcing everyone inside, feelings of claustrophobia were running rampant. Yet Souji appeared to be immune to the stifling tension in the room. Standing up from his cushion, he stretched his back lazily.
"Leave Hijikata to me," he insisted.
Kondou was overwhelmed with old memories where the captain had uttered those same exact words. In the past, Hijikata was known to plummet into dark anger that would make him unapproachable by the other men, but Souji had always been insane enough to appease him.
Confident in his aptitude for the task, Kondou heaved a sharp sigh of relief. "Thank you, Souji."
Upon exiting the conference room, Souji took a languid stroll about headquarters and discovered that the lieutenant was nowhere to be found.
Strange, he has to be here somewhere. He reasoned with himself.
When he checked Hijikata's apartment, his black coat still hung from the coat rack which indicated that he hadn't left headquarters. The only thing missing save for the vice-commander himself was his katana.
Using this as his sole clue, Souji strained to listen for any sounds that didn't fall in unison with the tumbling rain. The sky was still a convoluted mess of lightning and thunder, but amid the chaos, he could pinpoint the subtle whorl of metal slicing through the air.
There you are. The captain grinned.
Swift as a cat, he set off toward the farthest reaches of the complex into the training fields and rounded on a terrifying sight.
Hijikata stood immersed in the full elements and poised for a killing strike. Body angled, feet apart, and katana held a limber in his right hand, he focused his attention on three wooden stumps stationed in a row across the training yard. Bits and pieces of the other twenty-seven figures lay scattered in his wake like the remnants of a faux-massacre.
A flash of lightning drew Souji's attention to a severed head.
He's furious, he mused, rubbing his own neck gingerly.
Hijikata exuded an ethereal grace as he lifted his blade to rest perpendicular to his gaze. Breathing deeply through his mouth, he lunged toward the wooden imitations with nimble speed and disemboweled all three in one powerful strike. The dummies slumped from their posts and into the mud with a sickening thud.
Impressed, the captain issued a low whistle.
"I haven't seen you train like this since our old dojo days."
Hijikata pulled back from his inanimate victims.
"What do you want, Souji?" He growled. "You should be in bed resting."
"It's nice to know that some people never change. You always get this way when something is troubling you: aggressive and vulgar."
Hijikata turned and glared at him. "I don't need your disparagement."
"But it's true," Souji argued. As proof of his statement, he grabbed the decapitated wooden head from the ground and held it up to the lieutenant with raised brows.
"Aggressive and vulgar."
Hijikata schooled his expression.
"You're referring to a chunk of wood," he quipped.
Souji dropped the head back to the ground with a resounding thunk and took a seat on the edge of the veranda.
"To further attest to your violent attitude, Chizuru now fears that you hate her." The captain mentioned casually. "The girl has lost her nerve to approach you, and I can't blame her. You're about as warm as a sheet of ice these days."
The vice-commander darkened.
"She made her request, and I procured her teacher. What is there for me to hate?"
"Oh, I don't know." Souji baited in mocking deliberation. Crossing his legs, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand in idle thought. "Her eagerness to fight? Her stubbornness to obey orders? Her lack of faith? It seems there are plenty of reasons for you to be upset with her."
The captain watched for a reaction, but Hijikata slipped into an indecipherable mask, suppressing any emotion from seeping into his eyes.
"Well, I am not." He replied. "So, you can remove those delusions from your head."
He sheathed his sword and looped it through the sash of his hakama. He was still breathless from the exertion of extricating thirty wooden mannequins, but at least their false demise had satisfied his adamant desire to kill. Anger was a heavy emotion to carry, and he had been burdened with it for several days.
Wanting seclusion away from the meddlesome captain, he turned to leave.
"Hijikata." Souji bellowed as he pushed away from the terrace. "Chizuru confessed to Sanosuke that she thinks you hate her because she's a demon. She thinks you'll never speak to her again."
Now that gave the lieutenant reason to pause.
"What?"
"Your temper is scaring her." Souji scolded disapprovingly. "Do everyone else a favor and reconcile with the girl."
Hijikata considered the request preposterous.
How was Chizuru's self-inflicted pain his fault? It was her decision to learn the Demon Arts. It was by her request that he arranged for the demon and kunoichi to live within headquarters. It was her imprudence that misled her into wanting to join him on the battlefield. The world was not a black-and-white place in which poorly made decisions were so easily forgiven. He would not give her false assurances for something he did not accept.
Hijikata regarded him scathingly but held silent as the captain fixed him with a withering look.
"Go to her, Hijikata," He urged, "before you hurt her."
Hijikata's anger dissolved into a reluctant guilt as he felt the true extent of his mental exhaustion.
"Get some rest, Souji." He sighed. "I've no training stumps to destroy for your sake."
Aware of his victory, Souji's churlish grin spread across his face. "I'll take that as my dismissal then. Good night, sir."
The wind wrapped itself around the lieutenant as he watched darkness creep over the compound. The soldiers would be retiring to their barracks soon, and the rasetsu unit would resume patrol during the nocturnal hours.
Glancing toward the empty garrison, Hijikata frowned.
A single room still flickered with light.
Certain that Souji was out of earshot, he murmured, "I will deal with the girl."
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Life incarcerated behind walls was the kind of torture that Chizuru could never impose on her worst enemy. After a day of complete isolation, the word 'forsaken' took on a whole new meaning as she became smothered by the walls of her pseudo-prison.
Her failure was imminent.
Eighteen hours had passed, and no matter what she tried, she still could not bring her demon power to life.
"I'll never clear the First Gate." She sniffed miserably.
Sprawling across the floor in despair, she let the sound of rain and thunder wash over her as she closed her eyes. Today, her efforts had failed, and with a severely weakened fortitude, Chizuru knew she couldn't last much longer. Contemplating her next feasible course of action, she knew her body needed sustenance, but the floor felt so inviting. Perhaps if she just rested for a couple of minutes…
"What are you doing?" A familiar voice drawled.
Blinking back exhaustion, Chizuru gazed into the striking face of the demon vice-commander and watched as his dark eyes examined her vulnerable display with concern.
"C-Commander Hijikata!" She shrieked.
Overcome with shock, she rolled onto her stomach and lurched to her feet. Her body reeled from the sudden exertion; though, and she found herself momentarily blinded by a head rush.
Seeing her stagger, Hijikata reached out an arm and caught her by the shoulders.
"Are you all right?" He asked, face edged in lamplight.
Chizuru couldn't say. Pressed up against his body, she could smell rain intermingled with warm skin and discovered it to be a pleasant fragrance. He was not dressed in his customary uniform, but the black kimono and gray hakama he wore for official meetings. Strands of hair clung to his skin from the moisture, and all she could think was how striking he looked unkempt and flushed.
Chizuru felt a rush of vertigo.
"Yes, just a bit dizzy." She wavered. "I was meditating."
"Meditation and rest are not one and the same," He admonished, frown deepening. Her body felt abnormally slight. Barely holding her upright, he could sense her trembling.
Chizuru gave a weak laugh.
"I've been practicing all day, but with little luck."
Lingering in his embrace became awkward as she recalled their last argument, and how they barely spared a word for each other since then. It was almost surreal to be having a conversation with him now, at this moment, when she'd much rather wallow in despair. But the vice-commander operated by a predetermined agenda which meant his appearance was by no means a coincidence. He was there for a reason.
Recoiling until there was a comfortable distance between them, Chizuru bit her lip as she realized she was nearly on the other side of the room.
Hijikata slackened his features.
"Is this part of your training?" He coaxed with a brief glance at the space.
Smoothing her collar, Chizuru nodded. "Yes."
"It is nearly midnight. Where is Senhime?"
"She dismissed my lesson a little while ago."
Hijikata took a step forward. "Then why are you still here?"
"I wanted to show her my progress in the morning, so I decided to practice a bit longer."
Troublesome girl, Hijikata reproved in silent irritation.
Chizuru had spent too much time in his company if she was indulging in some of his bad habits. The dark circles under her eyes and the gaunt expression on her face served as blatant reminders of his adverse effect on her. Unaware of her receptive personality until now, Hijikata wished he could have demonstrated better work ethic.
Filled with the urge to impose some common sense on Chizuru, he remembered that he had to be gentle. Toshizo Hijikata and 'gentle' were not synonymous, but for her sake, he would try.
Approaching her until there was barely a foot between them, he planted a hand on her shoulder and forced her to sit.
"Chizuru, a student needs their rest." He chastised her as he settled himself on the floor as well, "Reflection is just as important as the training."
She had missed the tray he held in his other hand and grew agitated at the sight of hot rice, grilled fish, and vegetables smothered in sauce. The savory vapors wafted under her nose eliciting a loud growl from her stomach.
Hijikata's mouth tugged into a faint smirk.
"Here, have something to eat." He urged as he pushed it toward her.
Chizuru hesitated over the tray of divine nourishment. "But I'm not suppose –"
"Eat." He repeated as he forced the bowl of rice into her hands. "You have done enough for today."
Chizuru's mouth watered.
"Yes, sir."
She took small bites, chewing slowly as proper etiquette would mandate, and swallowing forcefully due to a parched throat. It was unnerving to have the oni-fukuchou watching her every move, but hunger quickly conquered her embarrassment, and she found herself devouring the fish and vegetables with ravenous delight. In a manner of minutes, the dishes were cleared, and she licked traces of sauce from her lips.
Hunger finally satiated, Chizuru sighed.
"You seem disappointed," Hijikata observed.
He uttered the sentence as a question rather than a statement, leaving Chizuru room for an explanation. Trapped in his unrelenting stare, she wracked her brain for the right words to convey her dilemma.
"Well, I was just thinking that…I've caused a lot of trouble." She fussed as she stacked the dishes on the tray and pushed it aside. "When I agreed to study with Senhime, I intended to become stronger for the Shinsengumi. But, already, I have failed you."
Hijikata's mouth thinned with displeasure.
"My protection does not come at a price. I'm not a feudal lord." He challenged with a slight tilt of the head. "How is it that you are failing me?"
Chizuru toyed with her hair, something she used to do as a child whenever she knew she had done something wrong. Keeping her eyes trained on the floor, she replied, "Well…I've gone against your orders and caused you great anger. I've been a burden."
The lieutenant stiffened, her words reinforcing the headache already pulsating at his temples.
Aggrieved to have ever taken on the dauntless task of protecting a young woman, Hijikata swallowed his pride and ceased her ministrations. Catching her hand, he held it gently by the wrist, tugging her slightly forward to that she was forced to meet his gaze.
"Can you blame me?" He asked. "You were placed under my protection. It's only natural I become restless when you take matters into your own hands. Your safety is a priority, not a burden, so long as you're in this encampment, understood?"
His words were gruff – as many of his reprimands were – but not entirely without feeling.
Chizuru stared at him shocked.
Caught up in her own stress for the past few days, she had forgotten what it was like to be enraptured by his very presence. She feared Hijikata had drawn the line by refusing to speak to her, but his aura filled the room, demanding her attention as he observed her with lavender eyes both sharp and sincere. The pressure on her wrist was nearly nonexistent, but the contact was a rare display of concern.
Chizuru met his gaze with remorse.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. Smiling faintly, she added, "I have been difficult, haven't I?"
Hijikata ceased to comment further, his expression growing fractionally more lenient as he considered her admission of guilt.
Releasing her suddenly, he stood and approached the screen doors, prying them wide open. Chizuru watched as he assessed the weather from outside. Water poured out from the eaves creating a sparkling curtain of silver as the moonlight began to peek through the clouds. The wind had died down, but the rain continued to pour steadily over the compound. Hijikata turned back and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed neatly into his sleeves.
"Shall I teach you how to meditate?" He offered with a quirked brow.
Chizuru brightened with interest. "Will you?"
Not a moment later, they were reclining on the veranda, arms nearly touching as they sat next to each other. Chizuru could feel the warmth of his body so close to hers and relished the safety of his nearness.
When Hijikata spoke, his voice lulled her into a trance.
"You must remove the senses one by one." He began. "First, begin by closing your eyes."
Her eyes closed of their own accord.
"As your outer world begins to dissolve, let your body grow still until you lose feeling in your toes." He continued. "By that point, your breathing should slow as if you are sleeping. Fill your lungs with air and as you begin to exhale, fade your pulse into the background."
His words pulled her from consciousness, her thoughts quickly becoming as transient as the flecks of moonlight in the rain.
"Now that you've removed yourself from your senses start to travel through the darkness ahead and leave your thoughts behind. Keep walking into the void."
Chizuru floated into the dark emptiness and noticed his voice fading into oblivion. The pleasing sound was quickly missed, but just as she began to falter, suspended in that shadowed dimension, something hovered in the distance drawing her forward. Something deeper. Much deeper. It sang through the very fibers of her being and made the bones of her body rattle with power: a plume of pure cobalt fire.
I've found it! My essence. Chizuru rejoiced with phantom tears. The cool fire rolled over her skin and blinded her with brilliant light as if it craved her presence every bit as much as she craved it. Senhime never mentioned how intensely wonderful it was to become one with her demon soul. How much it felt like sunlight after years of darkness. A drink of water after walking through a lake of fire. A gasp of fresh air after being trapped in smoke.
It was so perfect and all-encompassing, she wanted to cry.
Her essence was beautiful.
A warm body slumped against Hijikata, breaking him of his lecture. Opening his eyes, he found Chizuru's cheek pressed against his shoulder and her posture completely flaccid with sleep. Long lashes cast shadows across her face giving her the proverbial appearance of a sleeping beauty. Fortunate for her, she was in the company of the demon vice-commander, and not some lesser sort that would take advantage of her vulnerability.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind; however, Hijikata was reminded of his own weakness - a thing still undefined, remote and abstract. Its formlessness left him with chronic unease, unable to piece it out through reason. A different kind of anger resurfaced when he acknowledged that he was not ignorant of the loveliness of his young ward. Soaking in the sight of her, he observed how the moonlight gave her face a pearly luster and shined against the exposed plane of her neck. Her pink lips parted as she breathed, and if he inclined his head slightly, he could smell the fresh floral scent of her hair.
Hijikata seethed. What sort of cruel joke had fate played at his expense? The great demon vice-commander, savage wolf among men, spellbound by the likes of the young and beautiful Chizuru.
Exercising great care, he gathered her into his arms.
"Even without your powers, you are still dangerous." He whispered.
A/N: Here is the soundtrack that helped inspire this chapter:
Jynweythek Ylow – Aphex Twin
Letters from Bolvanger – Alexandre Desplat
Keep Breathing – Ingrid Michaelson
I Love You – Woodkid
Thank you so much for reading!
girliebird