A/N: Peacemaker Kurogane is not mine. Please enjoy the chapter everyone!


Chapter 6

It hurt. Oh Kami, did it hurt. The blows landed everywhere until his body was just one big bruise. He could feel the bones in chest slowly breaking apart and his lungs burning with the need for air. Steel burned in his side like fire, and water tasting of copper and thicker than it should be ran into his mouth and nearly choked him as he tried to swallow around the screams he was holding back. He would never give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream like the others did, begging for them to stop the onslaught of pain. Yes, he would endure this. He would endure and then he would come back ten, no, one hundred times stronger and beat them the way they deserved. He had never believed in the existence of demons until he had seen the treatment of the children here and felt the venomous, choking, burning pain in the very center of his being.

Now, all he could do was lay there, on that cold, splintered floor, his clothes tattered and torn, hair matted and caked with blood and pray that he would soon get his chance to escape. Because if he could escape, then he could run back to headquarters and send the men after the demons that were committing such vile and deplorable acts as the ones he only heard of. Laughter bubbled up and spilled out of his mouth, a sort of crazed, maniacal laugh that could have scared Tatsu into thinking that he had cracked. And maybe he had. Maybe, as he looked at the surprise on the demons' faces and laughed all the harder, as he was beaten into unconsciousness and dragged himself down the alley in the early rays of dawn. As he woke up in the warmth and comfort of the familiar Shinsengumi headquarters and thought back on these wounds that still lingered, he had cracked.

"Tetsu?" Blinking, Tetsu turned away from his blank examination of the ceiling above him and focused on the woman beside him. Her dark eyes looked worried and her hand was cool against his burning forehead. She had such a gentle touch, like that of his mother.

"Mr. Hijikata is here to talk to you," she said softly. He felt his head bob in what he thought was a nod and soon he was staring at Mr. Hijikata's stern face. The man looked like he was on a mission of some sort, his brows drawn over his eyes and lips a tight line across his face. That look sent a shiver down his spine and he quickly hurried to sit up and face the man properly.

"Don't you even think about sitting up, Ichimura," said the vice-commander, voice harsh but hand gentle as it pushed him back onto the futon. He obeyed, smiling a little at Mr. Okita when he spotted the man nearby, and lay back down. Mr. Hijikata's scowl softened slightly as he took in the condition of his page.

"How's his fever?" he asked, looking away from him and to the housekeeper sitting near the door.

"It hasn't gone down really," she said. "But then, it hasn't gone up either,"

"I feel fine," he added, summoning strength to his voice to try and convince the man.

"Have you changed his bandages yet?" Hijikata asked, ignoring the boy completely.

"No, Sir, but it is time that they have to be changed," responded the housekeeper and shuffled closer.

"I don't have to drink that nasty tea again do I?" he asked as he was helped up, Mr. Okita coming around on his other side to let him lean against him. Hijimkata moved aside and let the housekeeper take his place.

"Not right now but you will at dinner time," Said the housekeeper, who promptly laughed at the disgusted look on his face.

"It can't be that bad, Tetsu," Mr. Okita said lightly, a laugh lighting his voice.

"It tastes like a rat died in it!" he exclaimed, not moving as the bandages were removed. Mr. Okita laughed lightly and shook his head.

"Well, regardless of how it tastes you still have to drink it. Doctor's orders after all," Tetsu just pouted and relaxed against the hands that started tending his many wounds. The hands were gentle as they carefully applied the cream thingy the doctor gave them. He laughed a little as it tickled and chilled his overly heated skin. He didn't have to open his closed eyes to know that both men were tracing the cuts with their eyes as the housekeeper applied the cream, checked the stitches, and reapplied the bandages. Not surprisingly, in the silence and stillness of the room he began to drift, mind wandering over his previous musing.

That's right, he thought to himself. I still have to find those bastards and rip their heads off.

"What?" Mr. Okita questioned softly, hand coming up to his forehead and pressing the back of his hand against it.

"Huh?" he asked.

"Who's heads do you have to rip off?" he asked, voice still soft, still keeping him sleepily aware of his surroundings.

"Do you mean the men who took you?" His brow furrowed very slightly, mind awakening to the purpose of the visit. He nodded.

"Where did they take you, Tetsu?" Faintly, he began to recall details that only sprang up in his nightmares about that place.

"Some... real old building. The floors creaked real bad."

"So it was in the old area of the city?" Mr. Hijikata questioned. Again, he nodded.

"Yeah." Here his eyes opened a little, staring ahead of him and out the open door across from him. "Real old area. Lots of empty buildings and stuff." The memories were getting clearer now, coming in faster then he could order them. Waking up in a dark, rank smelling room, the first hit, the stab of the dagger, the frightened eyes of the kids he was forced into a barricaded room with, the screams of the other kids, the pleading, the grotesque laughter and lewd jokes that he wanted to hear no more of. His thoughts stilled. Kids... others... He felt a surge of panic overtake him. He tried to it up straighter, turn his head to look at Mr. Hijikata, but Mr. Okita held firm, kept him still from the sudden movements that would have torn open the wound on his side.

"There are others!" he shouted, arm shooting out to try and shove the housekeeper out of the way but Hijikata caught him, keeping him from striking the woman. He jerked his head free despite the dizziness it caused and locked his gaze on the vice-commander at his side.

"There are others there! Other kids! They didn't just take me but they--!!"

"Calm down, Ichimura," Hijikata barked, eyes boring into his head.

"We know about the others. One of them came here to find you," Tetsu stilled and stared at the dark haired man.

"Did... did he..." he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Yes," Hijikata said. "He is dead."

"How many others are there, Tetsu?" Mr. Okita asked, carefully drawing his attention away from that knowledge. Tetsu took a steadying breath and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"I-I don't know," he said. "A lot, I think,"

"How badly hurt are they?"

"Bad. Some worse then me. Mr. Okita…" he started, looking away from the kind man and staring outside again. He felt the press of the bandages that began to encircle him as they covered his wounds.

"Yes, Tetsu?"

"Slavery isn't allowed right?"

"No, it isn't."

"Then why are they selling them as bed slaves?" All movement ceased. The air in the room chilled considerably, the hands wrapping the bandages around him stilling.

He could almost picture the looks on their faces as his question registered in their minds. Disbelief changed to sickness, which changed to rage, and that molded to a cool burning anger lingering just below the surface of Mr. Okita's hands as they rested against his shoulder and forehead.

With smooth hands, the housekeeper secured the bandages quickly and shuffled back to allow Mr. Hijikata to turn Tetsu's face to him. It was like the man was wearing a stone mask instead of his actual face, the features schooled into a mask of calm that was truly only used against important people or when he was well and truly pissed off. This was one of the times that he was VERY well and truly pissed off.

"You are sure they are being sold as bed slaves." Statement not question.

"Yes, Sir," he said softly, fear gripping him when faced with that look.

"Would you be able to recognize the place if you saw it again?"

"I... I think so," Hijikata nodded and let him go, standing and leaving the room. He saw a shadow, Susumu most likely. He shut the door and followed the fuming man down the hallway, their footsteps nearly silent and fading quickly. Mr. Okita and the housekeeper were still, quite, statues beside him, their breathing silent, the air still charged with tension. Tatsu nearly choked on it when he walked in.

"Tetsu, are you awake?" Tatsu asked as he slid the door open again and stepped in. He stilled immediately at the feel of the oppressive air. Without missing a beat, Tetsu leaned his head back and grinned at his older brother.

"Hi, Tatsu!" he called cheerfully. Mr. Okita's mask of cheerful serenity slipped easily back into place with the two second distraction, and he helped Tetsu lay back down, replacing the cool cloth on his forehead and smiling up at Tatsu as he sat down next to his baby brother. Tatsu's smile was strained, his eyes suspicious, but he kept up with the act.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked. Tetsu continued smiling and went about the usual routine of complaining and over dramatizing every little thing until he was lulled to sleep by the tender fingers in his hair. Tatsu watched him all the while still smiling, keeping his questions back until he was sure the boy was well and truly asleep.

"What did you find out?" Tatsu asked softly, glancing up briefly at Mr. Okita. "And don't give me any excuses. I know you've found out something." Mr. Okita's mask slipped, faded, fell until he looked the man square in the eye.

"The people that took Tetsu have been selling other children as bed slaves." He was careful to keep his voice low, toneless, distant. Tatsu felt a chill run down his spine and looked back to the sleeping form of his brother, feeling the chill spread and a lump clog in his throat. Bed slaves? Children being sold as bed slaves? Tetsu had been caught by-- He couldn't finish the thought as he felt the bile rise in his throat. Quickly he forced it down.

Okita watched all of this with a passive face, ignoring the slow burning anger in his stomach. Watching both brothers, one seeping in horrifying thoughts while the other slept on undisturbed, he felt the anger turn from a cool burning rage in his stomach to a fiercely burning lust for vengeance that spread throughout his body, crawling under his skin and making his palms itch for the chance to destroy these creatures that dared to call themselves human.

Standing in a soft rustle of loose fabric he stepped from the room and down the hall, footsteps nearly silent on the polished wood. To the soldiers he passed, he nodded in greeting, fixing his usual smile upon his face, hiding his rage behind the facade of childish enthusiasm and happy smiles. It was an act and they all knew it, but they returned his act with an act of their own, catching the signal that soon, oh so very soon, the Wolves of Mibu would be released from the gates that confined them and let loose upon a new prey that preyed upon the innocents. The hunt was on and the Wolves would hunt down their targets with relish.


Susumu felt a shudder race down his spine as he followed the stiff vice-commander down the silent hall. The man had yet to speak a word to him, moving silently, thoughts racing through his head and rage temporarily corraled just under the skin if the tightening in the man's shoulders was anything to go by. He had been sitting just outside the door, ready to report about the young child's burial when he heard Tetsu's exclamation of others. Tilting his head forward very slightly he could hear the vice commander's questioning of the others mentioned and the revelation of the bed slaves. His hunch that the building he was inspecting was an illegitimate brothel was, unfortunatly, confirmed by the boy's utterance. He only prayed that the broken conversation he had heard about loosing money on some brat that had gotten away meant nothing.

"When Ichimura's fever breaks," he began, voice low and edged like the cutting edge of a sword. "You will take him with you that building to see if that's the one he was taken to,"

"Yes, sir," he said softly, following behind obediently.

"Take him under the cover of darkness and keep him quiet. Do not enter the building, just walk past it and make sure it's the right one,"

"Yes, sir,"

"If you see anyone, do not engage them. Once confirmed, return here and report,"

"Yes, sir,"

"And Yamazaki,"

"Sir?" Still as a statue, the vice-commander kept his back to him, spine streight, limbs coiled with tension, shoulders set. He was a grim, dark figure, and even more of a shadow them himself at the moment.

"Take down names," And then he was gone. Susumu had his orders so he waited for night fall, occupied that time with a careful cleaning of his weapons and slow bites of his dinner. He watched the sun set from the roof top, waited in the elongating shadows for the true twilight to fall, slipping into his uniform as silent as the wind. Pausing only briefly on the wall by Hijikata's room, he took off into the night, passing through the red light district into the shadows of the rundown portion where the offenders kept themselves. He slipped in through the open window once more and slipped carefully down the hall, passed the rooms where he could hear shifting and feel the board from their movement shift under his feet and into a small, dusty smelling room. That night, he strained his ears, thanking his sister's spirit for training him as she had and committed any names heard to memory.

Half way through, he slipped out once more, deeper into the building and took to a corner, careful to move to the deepest part of the shadows, keeping the firelight away from his body and any exposed metal upon it. He committed any and all faces to memory, not caring much about the names he had collected, just the faces. At the end of the night, just an hour away from the grey light of dawn that would peak over the buildings, he returned to head quarters and made his report to a wide awake vice-captain, moving soon to blend with the fading shadows and watch the wounded boy sleep. Waiting and wondering. At the first sign of dawn, he slipped from the room, placed his uniform and weapons away carefully and changed, settling down into a light slumber to rest for an hour or two before beginning again. Waiting was what he was good at after all.


A/N: Yeah! Updation finally! I think I have a clear way to go about this now. Sorry I've been so slow. I've been having other ideas racing throughout my mind lately and I've been entertaining those. Though now I hope I'll be able to get more done! Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!