A/N: Heeeeeelloooooo~! How are you sweeties? I have been having a blast, to be honest. Thankfully, I had no fever and I am already feeling great; also, I got engaged. Busy week, last week.

Anon, omg you are the first person to request a follow-up for that story, I wanted to cry of happiness. I did think about it, yeah, but I don't know if I'll write it, because I don't know how much traction it'll gain. But let me try: what do you guys think? Do you want a small continuation of the Priestess and the Grump story?

But other than that, have the next story: it's an actually historically accurate (please note, I ain't a historian of the Meiji era, so bear with me) version of the couple, as realistically as I thought it would be, but it is kind of...um...depressing? Maybe a little bit. This is a small chapter, indeed, but I wanted to get it out there, because it's been eating at my brain for a looooooooong time and I really love angsty shit (and it will get a little angsty, I have to warn you. Maybe a lot. I don't know, we'll see).

So, enough beating around the bush, please read my new story and enjoy! Please tell me if you like it, too. Also, don't hate me. but I had no time to proof-read this. Sorry.

Title: Misses Brightside
Genre: Romance, angst, historical
Alternative Universe: Historically Accurate, with emphasis on history


The sun was shining, unforgiving, down upon them.

Considering all the hardships they had to face so far, the weather being like this felt like the cherry on top of a very bitter cake. At the same time, it was really nothing compared to whatever they'd been through this past year.

After the sacking of Aizu-Wakamatsu castle, they were held as prisoners of war through halfway 1869; then, they were taken from one place to another, led around like damn cattle, until they finally received news, not a week ago, that the Aizu han was diminishing in size, but not disappearing entirely. Thus, all those who survived and remained loyal to the lord Matsudaira-sama, even after the shogun's fall from power, as promised by the newly-formed, men-depleted Meiji Government, would be given new names and residence. Tonami would serve as their new domain. Saitou, was told, would be heading to Gonohe village in particular.

His new name was Fujita Goro, a name bestowed upon him by Matsudaira-sama himself through a rather uncharacteristic letter from the man, who sounded too much as he did in person, but never in paper; in paper, he'd always been formal...well, he had been stripped of most of his power. Maybe he felt he no longer needed to stand on useless ceremony and certainly not with Saitou.

And right this moment, nine months after the official fall of the shogun, Hajime, no, Fujita, had just entered the large but not fancy at all estate he'd be staying at for the next few months – how long he estimated he'd take to get his life together, or... – with at least thirty more people. Well, it was big enough for that many guests and then some, but something left him unsatisfied. What was it?

Oh, he knew. Was this what his friends gave their lives for? Was this why he fought? A room in another's home, always a guest, never the host; just another person in the congregation of many, with seemingly similar but actually too different interests, characters and personalities.

A stranger; an outsider. One that was simply tolerated.

How inane.

And yet, at the same time, he was fully aware he was lucky not only to be alive but to be given so much consideration by the victors. Yes, they needed the men; too many had died. But he was one of their chief and staunchest opposers, the very reason so many of their men were dead. To be allowed to live was a sign of good faith from them, in fact. And yet, it was this magnanimity that irked him the most. If only—...

He looked down, vexing thoughts turning him away from the rest of the travelers.

No, this will not do. He needed to be calm to face his new hosts, if he hoped to make even half of a decent impression, but right now he was about to explode from irritation. He was only minutes away from meeting them, too, seeing he was in the first group to be greeted—war hero and all that. Heh, some hero he was: humiliated, humbled, fangless...a mockery of what he once was. But they did lose the war; the title of a disgraced war hero suited him well.

He exhaled, nerves gone, focus back. He would do this and then do the one thing he'd been dying to do properly ever since they were defeated: meditate. And then everything would become clearer.

"Excuse me, Sa-chan," black eyes followed the man who stood at the head of the pack, the tallest one she had ever laid eyes on.

She had seen him before; she had talked to him even. His name, at the time, had been Saitou Hajime with the title of the third unit captain of the Shinsengumi. Giving him a good once, twice-over, she felt her breath hitch. It wasn't the fact he looked so despondent, which made sense after all that happened, nor the fact his body language communicated so much loss; it was to be expected. It was his eyes...his eyes spoke of another type of loss, that of will; of spirit. They spoke of resignation. And of something else entirely, something that reminded her of a familiar emotion, but she didn't dare say it out loud.

She could only admit it upset her.

"...is this the first group of people to meet with Kurasawa-sama?"

"It is, my lady."

"Don't call me that; thank you. Can I request a favour of you?"

"Of course, my lady."

"Don't call me that; do you know the name of the man at the head of the first group?"

"I heard the men call him Fujita Goro; they spoke to him in a way that indicated he was in charge, my lady."

"Don't call me that. Can you please inform everyone he has to go through that I request he be allowed to keep his sword on his person? Kurasawa-sama can decide what he should do with it once they meet, but I shall inform him personally."

"Of course, my lady. But are you sure?"

"Don't call me that; yes, I am. Go now; I shall go, too."

Making a hasty retreat, she glided her feet along the wooden floors of the outside, easily getting in and heading for the lord of the house. He was a just and kind man; she had no doubt he would easily honour her wish. After all, if it weren't for the man now named Fujita, most of them wouldn't even be here, this very moment, herself included. She owed at least this much to him; at least. He was owed much more, of course, for his show of courage during the war and all of the hardships he had faced—or just for him being there when many ran.

She will never forget what happened the day that Aizu-Wakamatsu fell.

Teruhime-sama and her were up on the highest part of the castle, men to serve as guards with them and her lady was unyielding, proud and strong; she had her own naginata at the ready, just in case the walls were breached. Being the Aizu-han's sister-in-law, she commanded respect but most importantly, authority. Her word was absolute and meant to be followed by everyone, seeing as most had served as witnesses to Matsudaira-sama giving her complete control over this castle, as he and his son had to leave Aizu and show their faces to the Imperial court. Teruhime-sama, on the contrary of her brother-in-law, was a staunch believer in fighting to the last, just in case. When the man left to basically surrender formally to the Emperor himself, she kept the defenses going.

Only when my champion falls, will I give up on these walls, Tokio remembered her saying more often than not and it was so excruciating because on one hand, why should everyone suffer needlessly because whoever this person was, was just another soldier who did his duty and nothing more and waited from her to put a stop to it? On the other...what faith and trust she put in this person, lost amongst the crowd to all eyes but Teruhime's! Many had questioned the existence of this person, Tokio shamefully included, but the day the castle fell she saw; it was all true. And when he fell, so did Teruhime's defenses.

She shook her head; it was no use remembering any of it. It only brought back unpleasant memories and anguish. But this and that, she barely realised she found herself in front of the lord's study. She made herself known by speaking his name and he allowed her inside.

"My lord, how are you this day?"

"Better than most," he admitted, a small smile ready on his lips "for today is the day we reunite with our lost comrades. They finally, truly came back from the war."

She could understand his excitement; she shared some of it herself, but not too much, for she had been the one responsible for arranging the living quarters in a new way, making sure there was enough room for everyone and ordering supplies for their new guests. And she used it liberally, because honestly, they weren't simple guests. Most of them would spend more than a year's worth of time in these halls, maybe more. So, she had to make due with a limited budget, comparative to their size, she had to stretch things really thin. If only that grant had already come in for them...but it hadn't. Oh well, she still somehow made it work.

And then there's the part where she worries how everyone will mingle together, old and new, men and women; she had a lot to worry about indeed, so yes, her excitement wasn't as big or consuming as the lord's.

"I'm happy to hear you are looking forward to this, which is why I'm here, to let you know of a request I made." He cocked his head to the right. "The first group to see you is being led by a swordsman, the same who led the entire party here. I wished he didn't have to be parted from his sword, so they will allow him in here with it; or, at least, to your threshold. It's your choice if you let him keep it or not."

"You told them to let him keep it then?" She nodded. "Who is he?"

"...I am told he goes by the name of Fujita Goro, my lord," when she saw that rang no bells – and how could it – she continued "but I can tell you now that isn't his real name. When I met him, he went by the name" she hesitated a little, leaning forward "Saitou Hajime, my lord."

The recognition was immediate; was that even more excitement on top of what was already nesting in his chest? How unexpected. "Are you absolutely certain?" She simply nodded. "Then by all means, you made the right choice. Please inform others I condone your decision and he is not to be parted with his weapon."

"Of course, Kurasawa-sama."

Her bow was deep, per usual, but shorter, a clear sign she was in a hurry. "Thank you for telling me, my child." Her smile came naturally. "Please make sure they are brought in with respect."

"Naturally, as all your guests have been treated so far; only with the utmost respect. But maybe we'll be a little more caring this time."

A chuckle followed her statement. "You should know," he teased, winking "and make sure we pen his excellency Matsudaira-sama a letter about one of his favourite's coming, yes?"

"That was what I was going to do, my lord, after I gave everyone your orders; but I shall wait until you have received him to finish it, so I can add a little more information for his lordship."

"Sharp as ever; so be it. Go, child."

And she sure went; it took her no time to let everyone know of the man's wishes and soon enough, she was heading to the office, to pen the letter. That room, in actuality, was a room reserved just for the lord and their scribe; this once it happened to be her and her adoptive father, Kurasawa Heijiemon. It was a duty known to her, as during her days as Teruhime's lady-in-waiting she was basically Matsudaira-sama's scribe informally. So she knew her way around the pen and the man. She knew exactly what to write. But maybe a letter from her, personally, wouldn't be so bad, also. She hoped they still cared for her enough to want to know of her fortune and experiences. With vigour in her step, she made the familiar way to that almost inapproachable for the others room, to prep.

"Fujita-san, you don't have to," the man at the door kindly stopped him from unstrapping the sword as he had just put his hands on it "you can keep it; so our orders say."

"..."

He said nothing; simply bowed. Great; he must have been recognised.

But by whom? He knew it would happen sooner or later, yet he had hoped for at least after he met with the man. Now he had to stand on useless ceremony on top of everything else. Perfect; this day kept getting better and better with each passing second. What was next? He just hoped no one was foolish enough to call him with his old name. After all, there was a reason they took new names...and so far no one had known who he truly was, disregarding the prisoners. He had managed to stay perfectly undetected. After all, this party he led here was comprised by thirty people but only three of them where held with him; the rest were stragglers they sent them from here and there before they started.

This was going to be a long day, he thought, sighing. Just as he did, looking to the side, he caught a glimpse of someone; a woman. She was familiar...he watched for a moment and it looked like she simply disappeared. He blinked. Was that real or not? Was he seeing things? Shaking his head, he tried to focus back on meeting the lord.

He tried at least.

Twenty minutes later, once she saw the first group leave the lord's room, she went back in, and started making inquiries about how things went, especially with Saitou Hajime. The lord was very excited to share everything with her, letting her know the man was very accommodating and accepting, as well as grateful for this opportunity. Also, he was more than willing to do any sort of job, in return for his lordship's kindness.

Excited about the good news herself, she nodded lively and just as soon as she was excused, she basically ran all the way to her stationary to pen her letters: one from the lord and two from her—one for Matsudaira-sama and one for Teruhime-sama.

Just as she rounded the corner to get into the office, Saitou happened to catch a glimpse of her; surprised, he changed his destination, or at least his immediate route, and went after her. But when he, too, rounded the corner she wasn't there; in this long hallway; with no doors. He blinked. What the hell? She was there, but then wasn't. He blinked again, even more confused, only a little scared, as well. Was he...seeing things? Was she not there and he was just seeing things?

Better not dwell too much on it. There were too many things to think about.

Such as, there were too many people arriving, so the last group was greeted by the lord sometime the next morning, not too early, not too late. That is to say, those people didn't sleep outside, but they weren't officially members of the household yet, like the rest, who were as of yesterday given the right to consider themselves part of the lord's family—not sign with his name, but everyone would know them as Kurasawa's people.

So, once all of that was done and over with, she still had more things to do and to follow up with some last minute tasks, thus, she would still ran around like a crazed person, with but a few minutes of respite in-between. People, mostly the staff or the women who were already living there, would have a very hard time flagging her down. Not that they wanted anything other than adding more to her list of things left undone, so she might have been avoiding them on purpose.

It had been too hectic after all.

But the fact remained that, two entire days after everyone was settled, introduced and properly cared for – an exam by a professional, a nice, hot bath as well as a full new set of clothes – she was still zooming about the property. But she was oh so close to finishing—the final preparations for the first "family-wide" dinner were all but completed. All she had left to was mail the letters to the lords and all would be perfect.

The only problem was...the women were not invited to the dinner, and for some reason, no one told her that. Thus she had been dressed to attend. And she was wearing one of the few things she had left from her old life: the kimono her mother had sewn for her, with her family crest not so discreetly patterned on the back, in black, easily noticeable on the white fabric. It grew darker on the sleeves, where cranes and something like a mist was hand-drawn as well as the skirt. It was very intricate and beautiful; her mother was a skilled artisan after all.

Ah, her mother; how much did she miss her...!

Reminiscing was one of the reasons she always hesitated wearing anything that was from her old life, she was too much of an emotional mess, but she decided this night was worth it. Only to hear she was not invited.

Crestfallen, she was turned away by a very sad and apologetic man, who hated saying no to her, knowing just how much work and effort she had put in, not just these past few weeks, but since the moment she arrived. But, to her credit, she simply did as instructed, never opting to make a scene and easily chose to wander around the compound in her formal dress than go back to her room, feeling defeated.

No.

If she put it on, she would wear it with pride for at least two hours. It was the least she could do for her late mother who never wanted anything other than people to feel beautiful in the things she made for them, especially her own daughter and Tokio knew her mother loved her to death. She'd make her proud.

Her musings, and feet, brought her to the garden. It was a rather luscious, luxurious one, and although the house itself was very minimal, she could say when Kurasawa-sama commissioned this part, he went a little overboard. But he did know the man loved the outside, as well as walking, so this was a refuge for him; now, her, too. With its little pond and small river, koi fish happily swimming inside smaller pools. There was even a bridge, going over the stream, that arched three metres high, in an impressive curve. It was amazing...! If only the fog wasn't so thick tonight, she could enjoy it even more. But the fact remained she barely saw two metres ahead of her and, had she not walked these gardens a multitude of times, she'd have been lost.

Thankfully, her sense of direction wasn't as affected as she'd feared and she found her way on top of the bridge, crossing in a very slow pace, taking her time looking all around her, under the cover of the night and the mist.

It was then that she heard it; footsteps, approaching her. On her right...she turned that way fully, only to come face to face with the silhouette of a man. A tall man, who, the more he approached, the taller he became. It was Saitou Hajime, she realised, those amber eyes unmistakable, in any setting. She took a bud breath and bowed her head to him, who seemed to take pause at her gesture, actually stopping a couple of metres away from her.

She rose and blinked.

He looked calm, but she could tell he was tense, for his entire body stiffened and he stood even straighter than he usually did.

"Saitou Hajime-san, strange night this one, isn't it?"

"So it would seem," was all he said, guarded for some unfathomable to her reason.

"The men around here call it the night of the living dead," she informed, trying to gouge his reaction. When all he did was inhale sharply at that, she became concerned. "I see you have turned away from the festivities inside, as well. What a shame. This was held to honour the ones who arrived, after all. Plenty of thought and care was put into it."

She graced him with a knowing look, calm as she was, and she could tell she upset him. Oh no, now he'll out up more guards—that's the last thing she wanted. What she really wanted, from the second she glimpsed him entering so fatigued and defeated, was to relieve him of his burden, or at the very least, show him he could share it with someone, anyone, to lift that huge weight off of his shoulders. Looking down and away, disappointed in herself mostly, she turned to him again a moment later, closer than before.

"The time to commemorate those who left will not be too far behind, Saitou Hajime-san, to be sure. But for now," another step closer "please join them again."

"Them?"

"Them, inside the estate; the living..."

Her cryptic messages just reached their peak; he felt his blood freeze. He felt naked in front of her seemingly all-knowing eyes and his heart stopped for an entire second. He never knew such agony before, not even after he found out he was taken prisoner, once he came to after their defeat at the Aizu-Wakamatsu. This woman, this, this thing in front of him seemed to know what hid in his heart better than he did himself and faster, for her image had been haunting him for two days now!

Was...was she real? Was she there? Was she actually in front of him, or was this all just a trick of his mind? A figment of his imagination?

"May you live through these dark times, if only to spite all those who have ever tried to make sure you perish by the unforgiving sands of time."

For a long, tortuous moment, he watched in slow motion as she came closer yet, but an arm's length away. Then, she climbed on her tip toes, edging only slightly, and brushed her lips against his cheek. He stood absolutely still, as she poised herself again and took a good look at him, cheeks red and lips plump. His heart then, decided to stop working as she took a small bow and started walking past him and away.

What felt like an eternity later, but in truth was less than a moment, he tried reaching out to her, feel her, make sure she existed, but his hand failed the task. His feet were one with the wooden structure he stood on as he could only turn, lamely, and attempt to touch her. But he couldn't. She had gone too far by the time he had fully extended his arm and now she was out of reach.

He tried going after her, then, but...she disappeared. This mist was too thick. He couldn't see too far ahead of him and now, as he wildly pawed left and right and he moved with speed, he found nothing. No other person was there.

He stopped for another moment, just to take this all in.

He swallowed.

This woman he kept seeing, he knew her; if he remembered correctly, her name was Takagi Tokio. She existed. She had definitely existed back in Kyoto and also at the sacking of Wakamatsu. That was where and when he last saw her; the day the castle fell. And he was later told, both her father and mother died, her younger sister married off to someone and her...her fate, he never found out. He had assumed she'd either escaped or died but he had always been favourable of the last option because, well, the men talked and some of them referred to her as "the late flower of Aizu" a nickname bestowed upon her by the lord Matsudaira-sama himself. So...why was he seeing her?

Why her? Why now? He never had a soft spot for her, never talked to her extensively, never held any sort of flame for her. So why was he seeing her? And what was up with those words that came out of her mouth? Combined with the way she would look, it made him feel like his skin was sheer. He wasn't so easy to read, he knew, otherwise he'd have been dead long before now. So then...why? It could only mean he was imagining her; but that wouldn't explain the burning sensation on his cheek, nor the fact that everything about him started tingling.

No, that kiss was real, he could not be mistaken. The breath on his skin, the warmth; it was all too real.

Then...was she a real specter? Not a figment of his imagination, but someone who – he looked over his shoulder, just to make sure there was no one around – who had passed and came back...for what? Just to warn him? Something inside him constricted. At least that way, it made sense, how she was so easy to see right through him. Almost shivering, he slowly, cautiously, made his way back into the house but not the party, no; he retired to his room. He needed all the sleep he could get.


A/N: Do you know how long it has taken me to write this? A year; an actual year. I am such a...procrastinator, I know, I know you don't have to tell me. Other than that, please share your thoughts with me, in a review. Love you so much~~~~ and, like always, please stay happy and safe and healthy.

Kisses,
FAI.