Sagara was quiet.
In a room of noise, that was what caught Aoshi's attention. Sagara was young (could he only be a handful of years older, himself?), and Sagara was cheerful, and, most of all, Sagara was loud.
So why was he so quiet?
The young roosterhead sat against the wall, cuddling an appropriated sake jug and glaring at everyone who dared come near as if they personally were responsible for every plague, injustice, sorrow, and dead kitten in the world.
Actually, (and he would definitely not have appreciated the comparison), he looked very much like Saitou on a bad day, sans cigarette and You-Are-A-Worthless-Piece-Of-Dust-And-Not-Worthy-To-Lick-My-Shoes-After-I've-Walked-A-Mile-In-Decaying-Infant-Corpses-And-Fecal-Matter-Look.
He didn't say a word though.
Aoshi was still wondering what this meant when a polite knock came on the door, and an oh-so-careful, unobtrusive throat delicately cleared. He was still hypothesizing about what apocalyptic event Sagara's current despondency might provoke when Omasu slid the paper door open and admitted the young man who stood just outside the threshold. Even when the unfamiliar young man walked across the room to still-silent Sagara, he was trying to figure out what had caused the sudden, dramatic change in the roosterhead – though he did focus about half of his mind on thoroughly analyzing the stranger and any possible threat he might pose.
Old habits die hard, after all, and it wasn't as if he was chasing after this particular one with a burning brand and a very sharp knife.
The stranger – and he had definitely never seen the man before in his life – was tall, a bit shorter than Sagara himself (about a head shorter than Aoshi, but then again, just about everyone was), and he had the longest hair Aoshi had seen on any man (save Himura) since the Revolution. He wore a green headband similar to Sagara's (a coincidence?), and a red jacket draped casually over his shoulders. But what really made Aoshi's eyes narrow was the inconsistency in him: the man had the ink-stained, delicate hands of an artist, the carefully polite, agreeable manner of a politician, and the cat-footed walk of a spy. A very – very – faint scent of gunpowder drifted to his nose …
But Sagara wasn't quiet anymore.
They spoke in tones to soft for even the former Okashira of the Oniwabanshuu to hear across a crowded, noisy room (the stranger did not have a forceful enough presence o make all in the room aware of him – Aoshi doubted anyone but him, Omasu, Okina, Himura, and Sagara himself had noted this man's appearance), and he could not read their lips with any hope of accuracy from the position he was in. Whatever they said, however, was not enough that it needed to be told in more than a few sentences – or maybe to important to be said in anything but. Sagara grinned, and clasped the stranger's hand, pulling himself (and the jug of sake) up from the floor.
The roosterhead looked over to Himura – as did Aoshi, completely out of reflex – caught his eye, and exchanged a meaningful glance. Himura nodded, smiling brightly (Aoshi wasn't sure if the man had stopped smiling for a second after he had walked into the walls of the Aoiya) and gestured the two to leave.
They did, again speaking so he couldn't hear, positioned so he couldn't see (though it couldn't have been purposeful), but by then Aoshi was watching out of habit more than anything else. The stranger was obviously a friend of Sagara's, and Himura trusted him enough to let his best friend leave, alone, and near-midnight without any apparent concern, so Aoshi really had very little to worry about.
"That was Tsukoika-san, that it was."
"Hm?" Aoshi turned his head over and down. He hadn't even noticed Himura move near him.
"That man," explained the tiny redhead. "He is Tsukoika Katsuhiro, known as Tsukoika Tusnan, and he is one of Sano's best and truest friends, that he is. He is not very well known by any of us, I am afraid, but I am quite positive that he would rather die a thousand deaths than see Sano come to any harm, that he would."
"So that's why you let them walk of like that." Aoshi's tone was not accusatory, but merely commentarial.
"Eh? Oh, no, that is not why." Himura smiled pleasantly up at Aoshi. "The truth is, Aoshi, that Tsukoika-san is the only person in the world who could help Sano today, just as, for today, Sano is the only person that might make Tsukoika-san laugh."
Himura turned back to the party (and Kamiya). "That is why I let them go, that it is. That, and the fact than Sano is perfectly able to take care of himself and Tsukoika-san both." He shot Aoshi one last, impossibly (and almost infuriatingly) cheerful smile before walking away. "You should join the party, Aoshi. It is tremendous fun, and there is no threat to the Aoiya all of us are not able to handle together, that there is not."
Together …
There had not been very much togetherness in Aoshi's life as of late …
With a sigh that was only halfway reluctant, Aoshi pulled himself off the wall, and went to join Himura.
************
Okay, two points I want to make clear (well, three):
1 – My use of the English "Revolution" instead of the Japanese Ba-whatsists. As you may have guessed from the previous sentence I couldn't spell the Japanese title for the Revolution if you cut both my arms off, and I wouldn't even do that great of a job if you didn't. Until I learn otherwise, the English version is staying. (Which doesn't really bug me, I just wanted to get that out of the way)
2 – It is only slightly less annoying to write "that it is" or some variation than it is to write "de gozaru" after practically ever other sentence the man speaks, so that's what I'll be doing. Another case where the vernacular reigns supreme. ^_^
3 – This isn't really a point, but I do want to make this absolutely, positively, no-doubt-about-it clear: TSUKOIKA KATSUHIRO IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN ANY MANGA, PERIOD, BAR NONE. Okay? So we'll being seeing a bit more of him too.
Just FYI.