The Courtship of Lady Tokio
Disclaimer: all character rights belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Shueisha etc. This is a fictionalized account based in part on historical facts.
Chapter 13 – A Few Moments in a Lifetime
- Early August, 1864 –
He hefted his blade lightly from right hand to left. He focused. Tensed, he crouched his tall stature, a form of pure energy. He closed his eyes and let go...
The others present looked on, in silent admiration of the performance they were witnessing. Robes shielded metal, steel flashed all round, weaving in, then out, the blade continually and unexpectedly appearing where it really shouldn't have been able to reach. In seconds he had covered nearly the entire hallway. The air itself could have bled, so quick and precise were his movements; it was hardly possible to believe that such controlled passion could be maintained. And still they watched, glad that Saitou had chosen imaginary sparring partners this time, and still he moved, blending power and poise effortlessly, a force of fluidity few could match.
Oblivious to the audience now, Saitou was lost amid the fury of his skill. The fury of his skill: it had not come to him lightly, but he had found it inside himself from the very first time he had taken up arms. Flow of sword after flow, muscles tightening, every sinew stretched in this endless motion of mysterious rage that seemed to have descended upon him...
Okita had done enough watching. The bickering, the competition, the one-upmanship; they all melted away as he looked on. Remembering why it was he liked Saitou, why he respected him so - because at times, they were cut from the same cloth, and it had rarely been more evident to him. Saitou Hajime was a warrior, and so was Okita Souji. With that, he leapt an impossible leap, dead-centre of the wooden floor he landed and the clash of steel upon steel rang throughout the hall. On-lookers, knowing what was about to transpire, ran to fetch their friends.
"Shadows don't make very good sparring partners, Saitou-san," Okita called out to him merrily.
"Nor do sweet-guzzling brats who pass out during battle," came the instant retort.
A flurry of arms, thrusts, blocks, blades, leaps and tumbles followed as two of the most gifted swordsmen that the famed Shinsengumi boasted dueled as if they meant the death of the other. Those who knew how to look beyond mere form and to see through to the spirit knew they were watching two masters using their art to express the mutual admiration neither could put into words. And what an art it was. They danced as they fought, the music of their encounter now made by the gasps and roars of the gathered men about them, as well as the lightning strikes of their blades. Okita quipped, Saitou snarled, and they carried on, an opera of strength and beauty that none present would forget. It was a deadly dance but also a celebration, and perhaps this is where the beauty sprang from - each man knowing what he knew, doing as they did, that yes, their lives might be forfeit at any time and there might be little time left for such moments...
"Saitou! Okita! That's enough for one day!"
Hijikata's voiced barked out in the hall. He had been watching for the last few minutes, and had half a mind to invoke one of the laws of the Shinsengumi, that personal duels were forbidden - the last thing he wanted was for Okita and Saitou to end up seriously injuring each other. Not that this was in a personal duel; the perpetrators would insist that they had merely been engaged in robust training. The two stepped back reluctantly, each unwilling to be the first to withdraw and sheathe his sword.
"I said that's enough," repeated Hijikata sternly. "Saitou go wash and then go patrol. Souji, you're to help in the kitchens"
"But Hijikata-san, I'm not a scullery maid." Okita protested indignantly.
"Well it seems that you both have enough energy to tear this place apart, so I suggest we use it constructively." Hijikata walked away, ending the conversation.
Saitou said nothing, but walked out of the training hall and to the well in the courtyard. Okita followed him, wrinkling his nose disdainfully at Hijikata's retreating figure, and was only half prepared for the bucket of water that Saitou threw over him. He spluttered. And laughed, and threw the empty bucket back at Saitou. Saitou dodged, and continued to wash.
"You're lucky that Hijikata-san intervened, you know. He saved you from losing face."
"Hmph." Saitou snorted. "Ahou." He did not add that he knew it was not him that Hijikata was worried about.
"It was a good match though." Okita sounded slightly wistful. He had been training very little these days. He always seemed to have some other pressing errand to see to. At least, Hijikata made sure that he was kept otherwise occupied. Saitou fixed him with a piercing look. Okita tried to appear nonplussed, but the faintest shadow flitted across his bright eyes.
"... Don't expect any special treatment from me." For a split second, Okita appeared stricken, but immediately recovered his composure. Saitou knew, and now Okita knew that Saitou knew, that Okita wanted to keep up appearances for as long as possible. There are occasions, moments in time of great definition, when a few words mean more than the years that have led up to them, or even the time that comes after. This was one such occasion. In the grand scheme of things, their friendship would indeed be fleeting. Still, for each, it was now irrevocably forged amid the furnace of flayed humanity.
"Thank you, Saitou-san."
Saitou continued to draw up more water, and wring his towel. Okita watched him, but did not really see him. When he started to speak again, his voice seemed to come from far away, a distant place that only he knew.
"I don't have much time, and I have so much to do. I have to hurry. There's so much for me to do..." He paused. "So little time..." He did not catch Saitou's eye.
"Okita-kun, we get what everybody else gets. We get a lifetime."
So pragmatic, so unrelenting.
"Twenty-one years is a lifetime?" Okita laughed.
"You're twenty-one?" It was unusual to hear Saitou surprised.
"Yes."
"You're older than me?"
"How old are you?" Okita also sounded surprised.
"Twenty-one next January."
"Hahaha! Call me Senpai!" Okita cackled with glee.
"Ahou." Saitou threw another bucket of water over Okita. Okita spluttered again, and his laugh slowly faded. And then, suddenly, he asked,
"Saitou-san, do you know that they call Takagi Tokio-san the "Flower of Aizu"?"
Saitou froze for a second, but only for a second.
"Aah..." He replaced the bucket on the rack next to the well.
"I think it's quite nice. She is quite nice, after all." Okita stood there, the water streaming from his hair onto his face. "Have you seen her recently?"
"...She's getting married." Saitou's voice was so cool and collected.
"... I see."
Saitou turned and crossed the courtyard, stepped up onto the engawa and started heading in.
"Saitou-san! You're dripping wet!" Okita called out after him.
Saitou ignored him as he walked along the corridor, leaving trails of water in front of Hijikata's quarters.
Tokio carefully and deliberately descended the steps of Kiyomizu. She had been paying her respects, offering prayers of thanks. The question was, thanks for what exactly. They had emerged victorious from Kinmon no Hen, that was true. But many men had died, and many, many homes had been destroyed. Was it selfish of her to offer her thanks for the safety of her lord and for the people she cared about? She prayed for peace. She prayed fervently for peace, but she did not pray for love. What prayers she had for love, she had already given to Saitou Hajime.
She had met her future husband for the first time the day before. A younger cousin of Lord Saigou Takamori, Hironari was his name. She had felt neither antipathy nor sympathy towards him. She had felt nothing. She recalled how she had met Saitou Hajime on this very hill nearly a year ago. She remembered how she had caught herself off guard at her delight at seeing Saitou. She respected him. She respected his unyielding, personal sense of honour, the strength of his belief in his ideals. She could not see any particular reason to be respectful or disrespectful of Hironari. If she had first been drawn to Saitou because he had granted her a few moments of freedom, a few moments of respite just to be, and not have to answer to anything or anyone, then she had been bound to him by her acceptance and understanding of what he was and who he was. How could she compare her feelings for Saitou Hajime with non-existent feelings for Saigou Hironari?
Occupied with her thoughts, she barely noticed the people approaching her from behind. The last thought to cross her mind was that she just couldn't bring herself to surrender to a lifetime without Saitou, before a crashing pain hit the back of her head and she slumped to the ground. She did not hear O-Kiku's screams, and she did not feel any panic as her guard was overwhelmed and men with drawn swords and masked faces carried her off.
- Mibu Shinsengumi Headquarters
The sun had already set and the summer night was warm when a messenger arrived at Mibu Shinsengumi headquarters from Koumyouji. This led to an emergency meeting being called for the executive members.
"To get straight to the subject, there's been a kidnapping at Koumyouji. Well, technically, it occurred at Kiyomizu-"
"Hang on, who was kidnapped?" Harada interrupted Hijikata. Hijikata narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.
"Don't interrupt, Harada." Hijikata continued, "As I was saying, Takagi Tokio-"
"What? Tokio-san!?"
"-Takagi Tokio was abducted on her way home from Kiyomizu early this evening, and Harada, if you interrupt again, I'll kick you out."
"Oi, Hijikata-san, this is the Takagi Tokio we're talking about, right? Lovely girl, Aizu-kou's scribe?" Harada paid no heed to Hijikata's threat.
Okita glanced at Saitou, and decided that this was not a good time to tease his colleague. Saitou, though one would have to know him well and pay close attention to recognize the signs, was trying to contain an eruption of pure rage beneath a veneer of seeming unconcern.
"We received a request from the Aizu-han to help resolve the matter as quietly and as quickly as possible. They don't want this information to become public knowledge, and they are extremely upset about the whole situation." Kondou showed them the letter that had arrived. "They think she might have been targeted for several reasons. Firstly, she is privy to all sorts of classified information regarding Aizu's movements. Also, she has been engaged to marry into the Saigou clan of Satsuma-"
"No way! She's marrying a Saigou?!"
"- The marriage is to personalize," Hijikata glared at Harada, "a political and military alliance between Aizu and Satsuma."
This was the last thing Choushuu wanted, especially in the aftermath of Kinmon no Hen. Choushuu were bound to be desperate to prevent such a union after the recent events, and desperate men sought dastardly measures to achieve their means.
"And most recently, it's been rumoured that she's had a run in with the Hitokiri Battousai, and would be capable of identifying him." Hijikata did not mention that Saitou and Okita were the source of the last bit of information.
"She's gonna marry, and she's seen the Battousai?!"
"Harada, shut up."
"Toshi is going to take two others with him to Koumyouji to start the investigation."
"Saitou-san and I will go with you, Hijikata-san." Okita leaned forward.
Saitou merely nodded, though he was grateful (even if he would deny it) that Okita had volunteered him. Hijikata narrowed his eyes slightly, considering. Saitou coolly met his gaze – if Okita knew anything about his connection with Tokio, it would be because Hijikata had told him about the letters.
Hijikata had watched as Saitou battled his demons, for that is what he had done as he dueled with Okita. Hijikita knew. Not only this, but he had a good idea of what those demons were and what they could do to a man. Still, what he had seen was indeed remarkable. For his part, Saitou – knowing full well what Hijikata was thinking – did not even blink. It could not be denied that Saitou was a brilliant operator, exactly what was needed at this time. Hijikita turned back to Okita-kun and with a sharp nod, signaled that it would be as he had suggested.
Thirty minutes later, they were at Koumyouji meeting with Hirosawa, one of the senior retainers. He explained that he had already mobilized the Aizu-han's network of informers and was waiting for the first reports to come in. They did not want to send men from Koumyouji to resolve the matter as it would be detrimental for word to leak out, especially to Satsuma. The political balance was precarious and any destabilizing element was undesirable. "Discretion is key," Hirosawa had emphasized.
Saitou barely managed to conceal his ire – as if he cared about any political consequence in these circumstances. He knew he had sworn never again to kill for personal reasons. It was a saving grace (barely) then that this mission was intrinsically bound with his duty as a member of the Shinsengumi, his duty that would justify what drove his sword, an exacting justice.
He stepped outside after the initial briefing. He took in the night-air through his nostrils, cooling his blood and focusing his mind. He would see this through to the only conclusion that he would accept - heads would roll that night. He turned as he heard somebody coming down the corridor towards him.
"Saitou-sama..." O-Kiku paused, and then knelt down, her head touching the floor in as deep a bow as possible, her cheeks flushed with distress and emotion. "Please, my lady has always thought so highly of you, the Shinsengumi. Please help her."
"O-Kiku-san, the Shinsengumi will do its duty." Saitou said tersely, but not without the conviction that he was a man of his word. O-Kiku kept bowing – there was nothing more she could do. Still, Tokio had trusted them. Tokio had believed in them. O-Kiku, raising her head and looking straight at Saitou, implored quietly,
"She believed in you. Please do not let her down."
Tokio slowly came to in dimness, a dull pain ringing in the back of her head. She willed herself to consciousness, and as her senses started to function again, she found that she was bound hand to foot. She quelled her uneasy heart, and tried to recall the last moments before she had been knocked senseless. She had been attacked, on the steps to Koumyouji. O-Kiku, was she alright? What of her guard? Her surroundings came into sharper focus. She could hear faint noises from outside - street noises, not too far away, but certainly not close. What troubled her more was a smell that stung her eyes. A candle was burning atop a barrel. She was in some sort of storehouse. She felt a quiver of panic when she saw that there were crates of explosives; she was being held in a weapons store. She looked at her bonds again. Old Japanese knots, professional rope makers tricks. 'Help must be on the way," she thought fervently.
All she knew at that moment was that she must stay alive, that she must think of something, because Saitou Hajime would never forgive her otherwise, and even hopeless dreams are better than the everlasting dream of death.
Saitou Hajime had always cut a solitary figure, an island in a crowded ocean of people. Tonight, Okita saw a man more withdrawn than ever before. Though his face was set as stone, a dark inferno blazed within. So dark, so consuming, and yet Okita couldn't resist a quip at his companion's expense.
"You are troubled, Saitou-kun."
"Hmph."
"Well, just so's you know, don't be expecting any special treatment from me.
"Ahou".
Author's notes:
Please bear in mind that this is a build-up chapter to what is (as I intend at the moment) going to end up as quite an important part. My especial thanks once again to all my reviewers, and my humble requests for comments and criticisms. I hope to hear what you all thought; I really, really need constructive advice.
1. Senpai: Japanese term to denote a senior student/associate, a respectful term.