Fall

What do people say about an existence's twilight again? Ah. That's right: "Whatever poet, orator or sage may say of it, old age is still old age."

For more than forty years now, Sasaki Isaburo had lived a life of strict self-discipline, fervent faith in what was appropriate for his rank, his place in society, and a complete and nearly inhumane devotion to his goals. He was a man who had seen both the best and the worst – the latter more than the former – in humans, and was confident in his aptitude in judging the others; and it was that aptitude that turned him in the eyes of anyone who had known him for more than five minutes into that implacable monolith of reason and skepticism.

But first and foremost he was a man of duty.

Yes, the Mimawarigumi commander wasn't simply a man who had arrived at the place he was at the moment only because of his name and his family. He indeed received that title thanks to his name, however he definitely was able to keep it because of his nature, and his men's unwavering belief in him.

His nature… unshakeable, constant, predictable and mundane nature…

Isaburo heaved a deep sigh as he cast a bored glance outside the daimyo's castle through an open window: in the garden, a procession of young women – dancers, singers, all kinds of performers – and young men – musicians, acrobats, but also sons of lords, warriors – all dressed up in their most exuberant and colorful attire, were gathered under the brownish foliage of the November plane trees. That day, after years and years of waiting, the daimyo was celebrating the birth of his very first male heir. That vibrant crowd had therefore been called to announce that news to the entire town, and celebrate the blessed event for the following ten days… It was reported to the commander that the mother died in childbirth. From what Isaburo could see as he was quietly sitting in a waiting room in one of the secondary buildings of the castle, from the daimyo's gleeful expression as the latter, riding in his carriage, was grotesquely ogling at a group of fresh mannered female dancers, the old man didn't mind that loss that much.

Once again, the Mimawarigumi leader sighed. He felt lucky he hadn't been sent by the royal palace to protect a man who resembled more a caricature of a buffoon in a play than an actual warlord. The matter he had to deal with that day was far less amusing than that.

One of his subordinates entered the room.

"Sir, they're here."

"Alright." Sasaki Isaburo got up and headed outside. A small squad of his man was camped at the door, only waiting for a nod of his head to follow him in a long corridor. "Has the target been found yet?"

"Affirmative," a soldier replied. "They were spotted five kilometers away from our position, direction north-north west, and have engaged in an armed fight with three opposite factions fifteen minutes ago. The reports say there have been high casualties on both sides. Should we send reinforcements?"

"Absolutely not." Sasaki retorted in his usual monotonous tone. "And remind our men posted there not to be seen by the enemy. If his group gets wiped out there and now, that would only mean that was his limit as a warrior and as a commander."

"Should we make a report to lord Nobunobu?"

Sasaki Isaburo shrugged. "What's the point? We don't know for sure if he's dead, and if he is, it's not like that is going to change anything about Nobunobu's next move. Nor is it going to change anything about mine."

"Then the next step is…?"

"We're leaving. The Mimawarigumi has only been sent here to make sure the treaty between the kiheitai and these depraved daimyos goes on without a glitch. If the kiheitai's head couldn't even bother to make it alive until he got to the castle, then…Oh." Isaburo paused and involuntarily smiled at a man who was now standing before him. No… rather than standing, he was leaning on the wall before him, with half of his outfit dripping with blood.

The young man (he was very obviously younger than Isaburo) was wearing what at first sight could seem like a woman's kimono: a flamboyant garment made of a deep, purplish crimson brocade fabric, its silky surface timidly shimmering in the dimly lit corridor… It truly was a real shame most of it was now stained with blood. The rare spots that were left untouched would nonetheless, here and there, showcase an exquisite pattern of intertwined vivid yet delicate peach blossoms, scattered all over the robe, as if they were trying to counterbalance the rough aspect of blood on it.

It wasn't immediately discernible, but the young man was wearing a bandage over his left eye, which was well concealed behind a curtain of short black hair, a bandage that usually would go around his head. That day, though, it was loose and had almost all fallen off. In spite of his messy appearance, the youngster looked quite pleased. A cheerful smile was stretching his lips, while an indescribable emotion was making the iris of is unique eye glisten in the shadow. For one second Isaburo thought he saw a praying mantis standing before him.

"Yo…" Takasugi Shinsuke replied to the older man's smile with a confident smirk, before tossing a decapitated human head at his feet. "A present for you. To make it up for my lateness."

Isaburo raised a hand. Immediately, one of his underlings picked up the poor remnant of that unknown soldier before going back in the hallway, together with the rest of his squad. "Looks like you've met quite the welcoming committee. After we've lost communication two hours earlier I already counted you as dead meat."

Takasugi chuckled as he followed in the older man's footsteps. "I bet they thought the same. If the bakufu's dogs can't keep up for at least one dance, how can they even pretend to start a welcoming party? Now, shall we focus on an even better party here?"

"I have to say I'm pretty impressed, though." The taller man glanced at Shinsuke who was now walking by his side. The latter was a head shorter than him. "How did you even manage to get here without alarming the guards? I can't believe they'd let in a bloodstained ronin with a severed head. Even with an explicit authorization from the daimyo, I don't really see that crowd out there letting you walk in so quietly, not with that look."

The younger man only shrugged that remark away. They had reached the end of the corridor, and before them there was a big, closed shoji door. "Talking about that look," Isaburo resumed, "As a mediator for this treaty, I have to add… Are you really going in like this?"

"What?" Shinsuke grinned. "You out of all people are worried about looking good for these pieces of human scum?"

"Don't be foolish." Isaburo pulled on the door and walked in. "I simply do not particularly fancy being seen with a bloodied hound that looks like he just ran away from-"

The taller man got surprised by a light weight he suddenly felt on his back. He turned around: the panting kiheitai leader was laying his head on his back. Isaburo could feel the heat of the younger man's forehead through his uniform. "Mr. Takasugi-" Isaburo frowned. He grabbed the other man's jaw, forcing the latter to look upward. Not only was his entire face down to his neck burning, it was also flushed, covered with sweat, and his lips were dry from his heavy breathing.

The Mimawarugumi commander couldn't help but marvel at that unusual vision. He had seen Takasugi on many occasions already, and every time he was surrounded with that alien shroud of command and impertinent assurance that would never leave him. A mere masterless swordsman, heir of a mid-ranked samurai who only got fortunate in rice bargaining. Confident in his leading ability as much as in his fashion sense to the point of arrogance. Adored by many, feared by even more…

No. That man, Takasugi Shinsuke, was far more than just a rogue, a ronin who had nothing to lose, but who then somehow found himself at the head of one of the deadliest terrorist groups known in the country. That man was first of all a bastion, a fortress with its walls guarding it as high as the heavens and as deep as the Styx. Sasaki Isaburo had never tried – nor had he felt the need – to learn what could have been the cause behind that aloof character. He obviously never had any interest to pry on what could be hidden behind those walls.

Then again at that moment, as he felt the other man's chin above his fingers – an unexpectedly youthful and a little round shaped chin – a few strands of silky black hair brushing the back of his hand, Isaburo felt the rush of an unknown (or was it long forgotten?) sensation throughout his body, for one second clouding his eyes and making his back shiver. Isaburo blamed it on those late nights spent preparing for the reunion.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Shinsuke kept silent. Isaburo frowned. "Are you planning to attend the meeting in this state? You can barely stand on your feet…"

To that observation, the younger man replied by shoving the older one away. "This is nothing." He glared at Sasaki before walking past the latter, into the other room.

The lords were waiting for them.

The meeting, fortunately, didn't last long. The talk had been short, mostly due to the fact that the adverse party, Takasugi, did not say a single word, leaving all the talking to Isaburo. For almost an hour, he had remained completely silent, immobile, and opposed some of the daimyos' ironical queries about his blood stained kimono with an Olympian calm. But in the end their target was the same in its core, there was no need for further discussion, only an agreement in principle in favor of the Shogun to be, to the detriment of the current one.

Sasaki Isaburo had been sitting next to Takasugi for the entirety of that hour, and to his surprise, in spite of how the latter looked prior to entering the meeting room, his body never once betrayed his discomfort. It was only after all the daimyos had left the room, when Takasugi himself got up to leave, that he reached his limits.

He collapsed, then was transported to the guest room Isaburo had previously been waiting in, where maids had been called to take care of him. A doctor was called to the castle – it wasn't easy to find one though, as the entire town was now partying with the ruling daimyo. The seasoned physician didn't seem surprised by the request, and tended to the sick swordsman in a castle as naturally as he would look after a phthisic peasant in their hut. Barely half an hour later, the brave old man was leaving the room and told a Mimawarigumi guard that the kiheitai leader's life (he obviously had no idea of his patient's identity) wasn't on the line. Takasugi apparently suffered no physical injuries, the guard reported to his superior, except from one scrape on his right shoulder. The scratch in itself wasn't dangerous; however the doctor understood that it wasn't a regular wound: the blade that had inflicted it had been coated with a powerful hallucinogen drug usually used for assassination on the continent. Now, it didn't dig the flesh deep enough to cause a serious harm, but the wound had been left untreated long enough to make the few drops of the poison run thoroughly in his entire body. The fever was the first symptom of the illness.

"He'll make it alive though." The old physician concluded with a yawn. "He's young and has a good built. Take care of the fever. He'll be sweating a lot. Give him water regularly and by the end of the day he'll be alright."

"…Is what the doctor said." Isaburo sighed.

There was no one but the wounded young man, asleep in the futon, and him, sitting by the latter, in the room. The window, which, as we've said previously, was overlooking the garden, was wide open and letting in a feeble breeze mixed with the sweet scent of sweet potato (maybe some servants were enjoying the fact that the lord was out to cook some nearby). The bloodied kimono had been replaced with a pale grey yukata, the eye bandage was removed and instead a cold compressed had been applied on Takasugi's forehead.

For Sasaki Isaburo, that sight was… uncommon, to say the least. He usually wouldn't dwell much on other people's wellbeing, but the earlier episode did pique his curiosity.

Also, he wanted to understand.

What he felt earlier, Isaburo always believed that these kinds of feelings had been suppressed years and years ago. The Mimawarigumi leader could pretext anything he wanted to explain that little jolt he felt in his stomach, but he had to face it. That sudden, unexpected, incongruous warmth he felt deep down inside, a brief and brusque electricity shock that travelled through his most intimate parts, it came back from so long ago the older man didn't even know he was still capable of still experiencing it: carnal desire. Why now? Why for that man? The last person who could ever make Isaburo felt that way was his late wife. He couldn't remember anyone else – let alone a man – sparking that itch in him.

He was staring at the kiheitai leader's sleeping face.

Barely an hour ago that face was so close to his Isaburo could almost hear the blood thumping in Takasugi's temples. He had his fingers grazing that neck, brushing these dark locks… As jaded as he was, Sasaki still could tell that the smaller man was what people would consider a very attractive man. He wasn't only handsome, he was one of an unconventional beauty, a blend of masculine confidence in the body of a young man who looked like he had finished puberty just a couple of years ago, and adorned with features that would make a high ranked courtesan jealous.

The Mimawarigumi commander huffed at his own confusion. Whatever happened in that hallway, it had to be the result of many days spent tirelessly scheduling that meeting while in the same time juggling between his duty as an elite police branch and his plot to overthrow the very government he was supposed to work for. They had been very tiresome days, tiresome weeks, tiresome years…

Isaburo looked at that face, peacefully resting below him. Even though his initial bewilderment was now gone, the older man couldn't help but smile as he watched Takasugi Shinsuke sleep. In fact, it was barely one hour ago that he saw the very same man standing in a red stained kimono, the blade of his katana still warm with the blood of his victims, his gaze deadly and vicious, as if it could cut life without even needing the help of a sword. How eerie to witness him now defenseless, passed out in a place where he couldn't count on anyone's assistance had the enemy found out about him. Knowing that he, Sasaki Isaburo, had now a power of life of death over such a man in his hands… it was rousing that brutal sensation in him again.

Takasugi slightly moved under his blanket. He was now, while still sound asleep, fully facing the older man. The collar of his robe inadvertently got looser, and as it did, exposed more square inches of the younger man's chest, from the base of his neck to the outer corner of his breast, which was slowly heaving up and down from his respiration. Isaburo recognized the dark aureola of a nipple contrasting with the milky white of his skin, protruding on the pallid surface like a camellia flower fallen on the snowy ground. The grey haired man gulped down as he let his eyes wander a little bit more on the smaller man's body.

It was the middle of the afternoon and the weather still was warm enough to use thinner blankets. Thanks to that detail, Isaburo could fully enjoy the gentle curves of the younger man's hip, hidden under the soft cotton fabric, the outline of his thighs, the arc of his waist. Everything about him at that moment was contrasting with the primary impression Isaburo – and anyone else, truth to be said – had about the kiheitai leader. There, all the older man could see was softness, delicateness and a soothing and inviting aura to which Isaburo, no matter how hardened by life his eyes were, wasn't indifferent.

"Mmh…" The sleeping young man whispered. This brought Isaburo's attention to his face, gracefully framed by feather-like dark locks. His lips – two pink flower buds that had yet to blossom – were half-open, letting teeth as white as pearls shine through. Above them, a short and slightly upturned nose, and higher, two closed eyes, with eyelashes so long they were casting a faint shadow on the lower lids.

A slight frown went disrupting the stillness of his eyebrows. He woke up.

"Where am I?…"

"You're still in the castle." The older man replied as he mechanically pulled the blanket on the younger male's chest. "Next time you're getting hit, could you kindly tell me in advance before making me clean your mess? You're already quite grown up yourself."

"Yeah… sorry about that." Shinsuke got up. Or at least, he tried to, as at the moment he sat up a sudden dizziness almost made him collapse, hadn't Isaburo been there catch him one more time. "What do you think you're doing?"

"That's my line. Where do you think you're going in this state?"

"I'm going back to where my men are." The dark haired man answered as he pushed Isaburo back. "My job here is done. They need me there."

The answer was brief and imperious, but also so was the hand that was holding the young swordsman down. Isaburo frowned. "And what could you possibly do for them right now? You can barely stand up, and I'm willing to bet that you won't be able to hold this (the older man tapped the sheath of the kiheitai leader's katana next to the bed) for more than ten seconds now. You're a dead weight going to a certain death."

Isaburo saw the younger man's features slowly shift from an expression of a joyful skepticism to a smirk of pure provocation. "You wanna bet, really?"

The older man snapped.

With the same hand he had been grabbing at the younger man, he pinned the latter down on the mattress. "Yes, and I would win." He spat. As he expected, Takasugi was too weak to stop him. What he hadn't expected, however, was to have a closer and more complete view of the smaller man: the gorgeous face, the taunting skin of his chest, the curve of the haughty neck…

The previous feeling was back, but angrier, and more overbearing. Isaburo was out of his mind. He was out of his mind and he wasn't even aware of it as, with his free hand, he grazed at the bumps of the bones of the young swordsman's shoulder, gently tracing their contours, his fingernails from time to time scrapping at the velvety surface beneath them. Lower, even lower, his fingers met the soft muscles of the younger man's breast. It was softer than what the Mimawarigumi's leader thought.

"You… Get off me." Takasugi hissed. Isaburo didn't even notice his voice. Isaburo was moving as though his body and his spirit were two different beings, but both trapped in the same cage of craving.

He could feel the younger man's heat rising. He could tell the fever wasn't over yet. The warmth of his neck, of his chest, of his belly… The older man could feel it all, and experienced an outlandish sense of bliss as he did. But he could tell, lower, that warmth must be even sweeter.

Like a madman, his hand moved to fondle Shinsuke's thigh below the blanket.

"Mnnh!" The latter squirmed beneath him. Just like before, it was that soft whimper that brought the grey haired man back to his senses.

Isaburo's mouth was dry. His head felt heavy. Was Takasugi the feverish one or him? Who knew at that point?

The two small buds of the smaller man's nipples were standing stiff. Redness was spreading from the base of his neck to his ears. He averted his eyes.

Involuntarily, Isaburo grinned. "Don't tell me… you're turned on? And this is how you're supposed to go back to the kiheitai? With that wanton face?" For the second time that day, he forced the kiheitai leader to look at him; Takasugi's unique eye was glistening, just like that time in the hallway, but this time with a nervous glaze to it. "With this shameless body?" He pressed harder the flesh of the younger man's thigh. The latter exhaled deeply as his knees bent, allowing the older man's hand to travel to his leg.

Now the blanket had been thrown away, and Isaburo's eyes were devouring the sight of two slender legs toned with years of fights, yet unblemished, smooth and soft under his touch. "You don't realize what an interesting scene you're showing at the moment. Or maybe you do. Did you know…" The taller man lowered his head to Shinsuke's level, and with his deep voice barely louder than a whisper, he continued, "As the head of a police special force, I receive all sorts of intel. All the more when it's about a certain man at the head of a dangerous terrorist organization. One of them would be a rumor, merely chinwagging in the red light district, but worthy of note as it concerns that certain man…" His nails dug deeper in the tender flesh of the smaller man's thigh. "Not content with being adored by his soldiers, that man, apparently, is also quite popular amongst courtesans. He's said to have the most gorgeous features, you see. And many of them, from the humblest apprentice to the most beautiful oirans of Edo, would despair of seeing one day that man calling them to a tea house. Kagemas were the same withal. It's even a widespread gossip that that certain man has an exquisite taste when it comes to choosing young companions."

"That's bullshit." Takasugi retorted in a murmur.

"Really?" Isaburo mused. His hand meandered between the younger man's legs until it found his manhood. "It seems nevertheless that this is valued by quite a lot of people." The dark haired man let out a sigh when big and rough fingers started working on his length, slowly, teasingly. His legs instinctively closed, and once more he averted his eyes from the man who was watching every change in his expressions. Isaburo's left hand had abandoned its spot on the other man's arm to fondle the latter's neck, making goosebumps rise on its pace. "You're undoubtedly a sensual man, aren't you?"

Shinsuke didn't reply. He was too busy trying to muffle the sound of the pants coming from his mouth. They were still growing louder and sharper. He finally let out a soft whimper when Isaburo's thumb pressed on the head, his right hand now clutching at the taller man's jacket.

The Mimawarigumi commander was staring intently at the half naked man, by nature so composed and fully in control of the situation, now weakly writhing with pleasure beneath him. There was a wicked feeling of contempt, of a profound satisfaction of seeing someone so strong reduced to this state because of him, that was agitating the older man's heart.

Suddenly he heard a light chuckle. Takasugi was smirking. "You're one to talk, Mr. Commander of the Mimarigumi forces. Aren't you quite the pervert old man as well? Is this also how you treat your men? If that's the case, I'm pretty worried about the future of this country-"

"It's not, actually..." Isaburo interrupted him. He himself was surprised by his swift reply. "Actually… I've been impotent for many years already."

"… Aah?"

"Well, this is how things are." Mixing practice with theory, he took a hold of the younger man's hand, making him touch his crotch. What was lying there was as dead as it had always been for more than six years now. It just happened overnight, Isaburo never asked himself why, he simply accepted it as being part of his life. "That's why I too am pretty amused by all of this."

"Amused, you say… Ah!"

The grey haired man was now generously cupping the smaller man's breast and pinching his nipples. Shinsuke wasn't even making any more effort to suppress his voice. He gasped, his hand desperately grabbing the commander's leg, as his hardened shaft was starting to ooze with precum.

"Yes, no one is more surprised by this than me." He muttered. As a matter of fact, he didn't recall himself being that much of a voracious man with his wife. Well, sometimes she would make a joke or two about his being a bit "greedy" but that was all… Just what in the world was happening to him? Was that what they call a midlife crisis?

Without trying to answer that question, his free hand reached for a nearby lamp. He dipped his fingers in the oil before coming back to the other male. The latter shuddered when he felt the same rough fingers which once were stroking his length, now teasing his entrance, nudging the tight ring of muscles, his nails from time to time scraping the sensitive skin around it. Isaburo could feel the small hole twitch, shyly opening up to welcome his fingers. When one phalange made its way in, Takasugi shut his eye close. When the entire index came in, he threw his head back, his mouth letting out a muted cry.

His finger started a circular motion inside the clenching tunnel. Damn were the smaller man's insides unbelievably warm, soft and slippery under his touch. The older man would bend and stretch the appendage, continuously, and as he did the tip would caress the stiff bundle of nerves, eliciting shudders after shudders from the younger male.

"Bastard… Nnh!... stop tha- Ah!" he pleaded.

"Stop… what?" Isaburo teased.

Takasugi was practically folded in half below him. "There… Inside… Mm… Sto- Aa… Ah! Ngh!"

The smaller man ejaculated on his stomach, leaving a trail of bead-like cum on the vanilla skin. His leg, now resting on Isaburo's shoulder, was still shivering from the shock, and his nipples were even stiffer than before. Takasugi, panting, his face and neck warm, opened a teary eye. He punched the older man's chest. "I told you to stop, you fucking asshole. And take that out. This isn't… wait… Ah!"

Now two fingers were exploring his insides, soon added with a third one. Sasaki Isaburo was simply mesmerized by the sight of the younger man writhing and sweating and barely able to muffle his cries of pleasure; his hand was moving faster, deeper in the tight tunnel, while the other was travelling from the younger man's navel to his throat. At last nesting in the back of the Shinsuke's neck, it pulled the latter forward to finally have him cradling on Isaburo's chest. There, he was clinging desperately to the taller man's shoulders.

There was something endearing the older man about seeing Takasugi's small frame holding on to him, his face buried in his chest, his cheek rubbing on his breast, and his dark locks emitting a vaguely sweet scent. But that faint emotion soon was overwhelmed by the sensation of the younger male's walls closing tighter on Isaburo's fingers. He was getting close again. The grey haired man suddenly pulled his fingers out. That made Takasugi stare at him – his face flushed red, his lips still slightly parted from his panting – with a mix of anger and incomprehension.

'Oh, isn't that cute.' Isaburo thought to himself, then, loud: "Now, just wait a second."

Gently, he got the smaller man lying on the mattress again, but this time on his side. Then from the back, he reached for that tight yet soft entrance again. Shinsuke wasn't fighting back anymore; he welcomed the appendages in him, his back arching a bit as they made their way deeper in him. Now his hips were meeting every thrust, though he still wouldn't meet Isaburo's gaze.

"Won't you listen to an old geezer's rambling for a bit?" He spoke, out of the blue. He wasn't sure, however, that the other man was even listening, seeing how he was shaking his waist to make himself come faster. "Well, it's fine if you don't. For a few years now, I've been feeling a certain kind of way. My sight declines, my limbs aren't what they used to be in my prime…" His free hand was kneading the smaller man's nipples, one after the other. Every time he pulled at the rosy bud, the younger male would moan louder, the pitch of his voice going higher. "Although I obviously was always aware I've never been the most handsome lad in town, lately, I can't help but notice I am getting uglier. Women I used to find the most attractive in the country some twenty, thirty years ago, are now getting grey hair and wrinkles…"

"Ah… com…ing…" Was the only answer he received from the younger male. Isaburo ignored it.

"While this doesn't particularly irritate me – as you see I've learned to live with that reality – don't you think this takes away all the beauty in this world? Ah, look at me, the head of a police force, talking about world's beauty and whatsoever to a terrorist. But as I go on living, things surely will never get any better…"

"Wait… I'm coming!... I'm com-… Ngh!"

Isaburo looked at the stream of white, thick liquid spurting for the second time. Takasugi was clenching hard on his fingers, his legs trembling bending painfully, his back tensing as shots and shots of semen were shooting out of his heated manhood. But this time the older man could tell the waves of pleasure lasted even longer than before. At that moment, so many thoughts were spinning in Sasaki's mind: that half naked man he barely knew writhing with bliss below him, the unbridled excitement he felt as he subjugated that body, but also that obscure fondness he felt for him, tainted (or rather, was it increasing it?) by his own lukewarm self-pity. Did he despise Takasugi for leading a life he wasn't even allowed to dream about? Or on the contrary, did he see the younger man and unconsciously rejoiced in his inner self by living through him?

That thought made the head of the Mimawarigumi chuckle. He let go of Shinsuke. A vagabond hand went through the latter's silky strands of dark hair. Isaburo thought, this was fine, too. That he would remember that day when he was even older and more ancient. Though the specifics might be vague and he would say the younger male's robe was a sprightly light magenta when in fact it was a nappy blueish grey. Takasugi's face was still flushed red when he finally sat up to look at the older man.

"That's all bullshit." He spat.

"What is?" Sasaki Isaburo replied with the more innocent tone he could find.

"Whatever lies you've been fed by your intel. That's all bullshit."

"Yes, you've already said that before."

"And don't feed me that crap with world's beauty. It's disgusting, coming from a middle-aged man like you."

"My, that hurts. Aren't you a middle-aged man yourself?"

"You don't see me blurting disgusting crap like that to you."

"You've got a point."

"And this… too." With his toes, Shinsuke grazed at Isaburo's crotch. However, this time, instead of the dead eel he found earlier, what was concealed beneath his pants was a raging, relatively huge erection Isaburo himself hadn't even noticed before (after six years, he indeed wasn't paying that much attention to that area anymore). The grey haired man opened his eyes wide in surprise… At that point, it wasn't even surprise anymore: he was thunderstruck. Shinsuke smirked. "Isn't it pretty lively in there? What? You feel like making use of it after all these years?"

The rest of that day, the usually unshakeable Mimawarigumi commander felt his beautiful yet predictable world, shaken to its core. It was late that night when he finally woke up from hours and hours of debauchery that would make Caligula proud. The lights were turned on in the garden. It seemed like the daimyo's party had no intention of coming back before the break of dawn, so the castle was fairly quiet.

Sasaki Isaburo was sitting in the bed next to Shinsuke, who was still sound asleep from exhaustion, completely naked. The poison had pretty much been completely eliminated from his body at that point. Clothes were scattered all over the room. Isaburo remembered that he should ask for a change of robe from the servants for both of them. He got up and was putting his pants on, when he heard the sound of Takasugi's breath rising in the dark. The sleeping face he had seen hours earlier, now looked even more peaceful, almost glowing in the shadow. Without thinking, Isaburo took out his phone and took a picture of the younger man. He would think about who to send that picture to later. For now, he had to ask for a maid…

"Commander," A muffled voice rose from the corridor outside the bedroom, "the doctor from this morning is asking for your permission to get in the castle."

"That old man? What is the reason?"

"He said he forgot a package of drug vials in your room when he treated the-"

"I get it. Tell him to wait outside the bedroom. Now leave. Wait. Call a maid on your way. Tell her to bring a change of clothes."

"Got it."

The change of clothes arrived one minute later. The doctor, after two minutes. He really only came there for his vials. Before he left, though, the Mimawarigumi commander asked him: "Doctor, you've already spoken about the poison's effect on the organism. But I have to ask you, is that really all? Is it possible there could be other side effects?..."

"Side effects?" The old man scratched his head. "Not to my knowledge."

"Are you sure?" Isaburo insisted. "Or is it possible that the effects of the poison could be spread by being in contact with someone who's affected?"

"That's impossible. It's a drug that can only be directly injected in the blood. And in your case, the amount was just too small to have any serious effect at all. Is that all? Will you let me leave now? I have work to do, you know."

The old man left, and Isaburo came back in the bedroom. But at the doorstep, his heart thumped loudly in his chest as he saw the smaller man now awake, sitting in the bed again but now with Sasaki's shirt on, smoking his pipe.

"Sorry, you don't mind I borrow this for a while (he motioned to the shirt he was wearing)? It's cold and there was nothing else to wear."

Naturally, Sasaki hid the second robe from him. There were a few oil lamps lit up, not enough to light up the room, but enough to highlight the pale form of the Kiheitai leader. He was quietly sitting on the mattress, the obviously too big, ill fitting shirt half unbuttoned almost floating around him, smoking. Isaburo sat down next to the bed, the same spot from which he had been staring at Takasugi sleeping a few hours earlier, in silence.

"Your dick's too huge." He finally spoke after exhaling a white cloud of smoke in the air. As he did, he slightly, gracefully tilted his head back. The tip of his hair grazed the curve of his neck.

"Do you think so?" Unfazed, the older man replied. "I think I remember my wife telling me that once or twice, but I've always thought this was only something she said to make me happy."

"Where the hell did that impotency go anyway? You greedy old bastard."

"Well, that's how things are…"

Then, silence again. Shinsuke was looking out the window, gazing at some random point in the night. "Have there been any news from my men?"

The Mimawarigumi commander looked intently at Shinsuke's face before he answered, "Yes, they're fine. Well, there have been casualties on both sides. But your group is mainly safe now." At first sight, it didn't seem like that news particularly moved the younger man, in spite of this Isaburo could somehow guess a shadow of relief in his eye. "I'll be leaving the castle before sunrise. There already are preparations to have you delivered to your second in command (is he? The man with the sunglasses) on our way to the capital."

The word 'delivered' had Shinsuke chuckle.

"Looks like I've been in your care."

"You indeed have been. Completely."

Takasugi's lips stretched in his usual playful smirk. "Then I guess I owe you one for that. How do you want me to pay you back?" Shinsuke was staring at Isaburo. The latter was staring back at him with the same level of intensity.

Sasaki Isaburo smiled, then huffed. "We will figure out a way."

Now, Sasaki Isaburo just remembered that his men always used to bring changes of uniforms when they were on mission like on that day – white uniforms weren't the best thing to work in when you can get cut at any moment. There had to be at least one that could fit the other man, Sasaki thought.