Yes, Saitō is a dear. We'll see more of him here and there, he is a big part of Hijikata's life after all. And I plan to introduce his future lady, the flower of Aizu. Thanks for reviewing ! All of you.

It all started with me humming the song of Beren and Luthien that I couldn't, for the life of me, recall entirely. Perhaps because it was a hundred verses long … but I'd heard Aragorn and Legolas sing it so often, and would never forget how both the elves of Rivendell – in the hall of fire – and those of Lothlórien had embedded their voices in my heart. Angels wouldn't have sounded more ethereal.

Those memories almost felt like another life… Travelling to middle earth had marked me so deeply, and I sometimes struggled to pull myself out of this mission that had carved memories in both heart and mind. Their music told tales of old times but the song of Durin was perhaps the only one I could remember entirely. Today, though, my mind wandered to Beren and Luthien, the legendary elf who had married a man, and chosen to die by his side.

Romantic to boot.

So I sang what I could, and hummed the rest as I watched the clouds drift away in the glorious morning. In the madness of my training and helping Chizuru with her chores, this time hiding on rooftops was a welcome breather. Kyōto's sky kept my mind blank, a precarious peace.

So instead of helping Saitō in the kitchen, rolling rice balls, I hummed and watched the endless winter sky.

"Meow."

I didn't turn around to greet my temporary friend. Eventually, she would come to my side, or leave altogether. Cats always decided; there was no pushing them around. Neko shuffled forward, the unusual noise calling for my attention. The furry animal was dragging something, a mix of grey and white that smoked suspiciously. I lifted an eyebrow, allowing Neko to come and plop the item on the dark tiles before I realised what it was.

Grilled fish?

"Meow."

Was it an offering? The feline settled by my side, and I absently stroked its head. The cat and I shared those rooftops more often than not. After a while of just eyeing each other, we had eventually settled for tentative friendship.

"Long time no see, Neko," I smiled.

A slight purr rolled in her throat before she started tearing the fish apart. I wondered if I could… I approached my fingers slowly, careful not to spook her, and waited. Neko gave me a typical stare, the cat version of 'do what you please, I don't give a damn'. So I picked up a piece of grilled fish on the side that wasn't marred with cat's hair and brought it to my mouth. Mmm.

My hum didn't disturb the feline by my side. I picked up a few pieces of flesh, reflecting on cooking skills. For sure, I was learning the tricks of Japanese cuisine. I'd never be a housewife, but I could now fix a rudimentary meal with their archaic stove. Better than cooking on a fire on the road to God knew where – which I was better at in the end.

This grilled fish was done to perfection, the result's of Saitō's diligent cooking; the spices complimented the white flesh artfully. After a few mouthfuls, though, I decided to leave the rest to Neko; she probably didn't eat as regularly as I did. Still, I was grateful for the offering.

"Arigatō gozaimashita," I mumbled before the song running in my head got the better of me. I started singing again, earning a strange look from Neko before she returned to her meal.

"When winter passed, she came again,

And her song released the sudden spring,

Like rising lark, and falling rain,

And melting water bubbling.

He saw the elven-flowers spring

About her feet, and healed again

He longed by her to dance and sing

Upon the grass untroubling."

Note: chek out the version from Clamavi de profundis

That was a verse I knew, among the thousands I didn't. What a sad, but incredibly romantic story. It called forth memories, hopes and doubts at the same time.

"Oi! Someone up there?"

Heisuke's typical screeching caused my mouth to snap, and Neko suddenly scurried away, leaving the bones of her quarry upon the roof.

"Kitsu, that you?"

I straightened, finding Heisuke's head peeking from the courtyard. I squinted, watching his pale face struggle against the light. How did his Rasetsu nature handle direct sunlight ?

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Ah … yes. I just, didn't manage. It's a bit cold…"

The rest went unsaid; I bet Heisuke didn't want to sleep on his own. Nightmares, maybe? His dejected tone caused a wave of sadness to wash through me; however Ochimizu worked, it certainly dampened the mood of our greatest clown. I wondered what Sanan had been like before his injury…

"Hang on, I'm going down."

The roof wasn't too high, per se, but I knew the tiles on the side were treacherous so I took the longer way around to join him.

"What were you singing about?", he asked.

The question caught me off guard. I explained about Beren and Luthien and the young captain gave me a pleading look that no one could ever resist.

"Think you can tell me the full story? In my room, I mean? There's a brazier…"

A blush crept up Heisuke's cheeks and I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing out loud. Yes, he had actually invited a woman in his room, alone. But I knew it wasn't a proposal of any sort, rather than an offer of companionship. A child, asking for a bedtime story because the monsters of his nights had grown larger than life.

I just smiled, and allowed Heisuke to lead the way. Just as we passed the corner of the common room, Saitō and Okita rushed past us. Of course, Okita couldn't resist and stopped dead in his tracks, his hair askew. The fact that Hajime-kun actually paused threw me in for a loop: what was urgent enough for him to rush, but not dire enough to keep him waiting patiently for his friend's antics?

"Stealing Kitsuneko, Heisuke?" Sōji grinned.

The young man blushed to the tips of his hair.

"Naaah, she's about to tell me the story of…"

"An elf and a man," I provided seriously, searching both their faces for Intel, and finding none. So I added as an afterthought, "What put your fundoshi in a twist?"

Saitō coughed awkwardly while Okita laughed, slapping his hand dramatically over his thigh.

"That's Kitsu for you! Do you know how many knots can be done with a fundoshi?"

I snorted in amusement; I knew how to untie the typical undergarment now, better than how to put it in place… I put a clamp on my thoughts at once, trapped at my own game while Okita's predatory grin actually widened. Seeing that the first captain wasn't motivated to provide the information, Saitō sighed.

"A cat stole one of the fish we were grilling for lunch."

My eyebrow rose in amusement as I realised that said fish was halfway down my belly. So this is where Neko got it … sneaky cat. Instead of outright mockery, though, I chose to protect my new friend and settle for the truth.

"Even if you found it, it's probably been dragged in the dirt by now."

"Ne…", Okita sneered. "I don't care about the fish, Hijikata yelled at us for the mess in the kitchen, and I want the cat. Lend a hand, Heisuke-kun?"

The small captain actually snorted.

"I think two captains are enough against a cat, I'll pass. Plus, it's bedtime for me."

"Ie ie," Okita drawled. "Traitor. How about you, Kitsuneko?"

The nickname had never been more fitting, and I grinned.

"My nickname prevents me from attacking a fellow companion."

Sōji's eyes narrowed, then he huffed and took off again, Saitō hot on his heels. First and third captains shared a strange friendship; could two people be more different, really? I shook my head in amusement, and gave Heisuke a smile before we went on our merry way. The captain grimaced; he usually was a chatty companion; we paired often enough in the kitchen. Today, though, sombre clouds danced in his eyes when he pushed the shōji open. So busy I'd been watching his expression that I nearly collided with his back when he stopped in his tracks.

"Oi, whatcha doing in my room?"

Harada and Shinpachi actually crowded the hibachi, hands outstretched to steal its warmth.

"I thought I could bunk in with you, it's getting cold on my own."

"Wait, Shinpat'san…", Heisuke's whine rose.

Then he froze, and I observed the two older men's unreadable gaze as they watched their friend. It didn't make sense; Heisuke would now sleep during the day, and walk around at night. The Baka trio, as Hijikata called them, was a tight group that looked after their own.

I realised how mistaken I'd been to see Shinpachi as a loud, boisterous tease. The man had brains, and a keen sense of observation; he just so scarcely showed it and was hopeless when it came to women.

"So, want a bedtime story?", I asked Heisuke.

The captain blushed, but actually took his place between his two friends to warm his hands over the brazier.

Thus was the way I found myself telling stories of the impossible love between Beren and Luthien, of how Melian the Maiar's daughter had faced Morgoth himself to steal the Silmaril, and walked the halls of Mandos – death – to retrieve her beloved. How she had, in the process, surrendered her immortatily to die with Beren, creating the famous line of half elves, the peredhil, whom in turn had sired Lord Elrond and his brother Elros.

It was a complicated story, a fairy tale spun in ancient times of middle earth. I couldn't help but shiver when speaking or Morgoth. To think that an elleth – a lady elf – had had the guts to face the maleficent being in person really called for respect.

The Baka trio cheered at Luthien's gall, and almost wept when I recounted her death. They were like children, hanging to my every word – even though I was a poor story teller. Legends and stories always found more ground in a world without TV and internet.

As I told them of Beren and Luthien's death, I recalled Arwen's teaching and Aragorn's words when he sung their story, remembered Legolas' wistful look when he talked of death – the gift of men. How did they fare, those friends I'd never see again? I missed them, of course. Fiercely.

Fortunately, Heisuke's many questions prevented me from delving too deep in my mind. That memory drawer always threatened to eat me alive. And the discovery of my blade's new abilities was a direct plunge into the past. Ten years, and I discovered, just now, how much magic Glorfindel had infused into my sword.

"So, er, those elves, are they real?" Harada asked.

His golden eyes stared me down, daring me to lie. I had put much thought into the existence of those Oni; instantaneous healing probably meant immortality, right? So, if those legends could exist here, in Japan, I bet the Shinsengumi captains might accept the reality of elves.

"They … are," I carefully responded. "People think them legends, but they are like those Oni."

"Ahhh! Don't want to hear about that Kazama guy, he pisses me off!"

Nagakura's loud protest caused me to laugh bitterly. Kazama was on my kill list … but I'd had better chances to kill an elf that this bastard. He deserved to taste my blade a hundred times over.

"Unfortunately, elves don't heal like this," I spat. "They can die if struck, and they certainly don't have the strength of that oaf."

"So did you meet them?" Sanosuke asked.

For a moment, I wondered if he was pissed to be kept ignorant of so much of my past. Harada was a brother to me, that best friend to whom I could say anything without fear of being judged. Granted, we'd known each other for nine months, no more, no less. Yet, there was a deep connection there. Was he annoyed to learn about the elves and fairytales that had populated my previous missions?

"Who?" Heisuke mumbled.

"Beren and Luthien."

My eyes widened at the idea, and I actually gigged. I doubted even Gandalf had met Beren and Luthien. They were legends amongst legends, tales sung in the hall of Fire in Elrond's home, more revered than the moon or stars in middle earth. And very dead.

"Ah, no," I chuckled. "They lived in the first age, and Morgoth was defeated at the end of the first age as well. The lands they lived in were swallowed in a massive … landslide. They are but memories now."

Heisuke nodded gravely; I'd felt many tremors during my stay in Japan. No one knew, better than its people, how earthquakes could remodel entire regions.

"When was that?" Shinpachi asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

I frowned; doing the maths in my head.

"Probably eight thousand years ago, why?"

His eyes widened comically as he scoffed.

"What? How could anyone remember something like this?"

I cocked my head aside. True, this seemed totally preposterous. Earth knew little about times removed, thousands of years before now, were so very scarce. But a human's lifespan was sixty to eighty years … not several centuries.

Lord Elrond, himself, was already more than six thousand years old when I met him. Geez, no wonder his charisma could stop a heart.

"Elves are immortal," I explained. "They keep writings, and tales that they sing. History is not as much history to them, it's more like … the time of our grandparents."

"C'est fou ! (This is crazy)", Harada breathed. "Imagine living a thousand years old."

"I'd be fed up with Shin within a century," Heisuke laughed.

While Harada and I shared a look of amusement, Shinpachi and Heisuke ended up in a full brawl. For once, I didn't mind at all and just laughed it out.

Thus a tradition was born. The story telling became a usual occurrence for cold mornings before Heisuke fell asleep. A funny tradition in uncertain times that build up new memories to replace old ones. This very day, Chizuru actually joined us, her shoulders slumped.

"Oi Chizuru-chan, come and get by the brazier," Heisuke called out to her.

The little lady settled, a frown still marring her features.

"What's up?" Shinpachi asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.

"Ah … nothing. Hijikata-san said that patrols were getting rougher, so I couldn't join. I guess I was just used to being a part of it."

I caught Harada's amber eyes for a moment; the debate whether to keep patrolling wasn't closed yet. I had no doubt he was privy to the inner turmoil. Being Kondō's page, I was present when the issue was raised that, without official duty, our men might start tearing at the seams. Though, The Shinsengumi were no longer appointed with Kyōto's safety. It was a dilemma that our three commanders had chosen to delay, for now, by keeping the patrols.

"Well, Chizuru. You're right in time to hear the battle of Helm's deep," I smirked.

The little woman's head perked up, and her big doe eyes twinkled with mischief. Sure, she wasn't too skilled with a blade, and not a fighter. But she understood warriors like no one else.

I kept the tremors from running up my spine as I plunged back into the bleak wall of Helm's deep. It wasn't so difficult, after all, to set up the scene. That stupid rain that soaked everything, wet and cold droplets sneaking under the collar of the brand new armour Galadriel had offered me. I'd never forget the sight of ten thousand orcs massing under the wall, chanting their war cries as we stood upon the call in a sea of darkness.

Of Aragorn's voice, calling in elvish to hold our arrows. Of the chaos that ensued when we released, and the battle started.

As I spun the story of Aragorn of the war of the ring, the witch King of Angmar, the Nazgûl, a weight lifted off my chest. To tell fellow warriors of those people I'd known, those battles I'd fought … it was an incredible relief to actually share with comrades who understood what it might have been.

Of course, I kept my name out of it. The characters of the fellowship were great enough that none needed my presence to make the tale lively. The fact that I'd been in the thick of it didn't really matter after all. As I tried to describe how Saruman's device had blown up the wall, a silky voice greeted us from through the shōji.

"Heisuke-kun. May I come in?"

Heisuke drawled a 'Hai' and the door slid open, revealing a dumbfounded Colonel.

"Sumimasen. I wasn't aware I interrupted a gathering. I just came to check on Heisuke-kun."

I turned to Sanan-san with a welcoming smile; our impromptu discussions were not as regular as they used to be with all that training weighing down on me … and my newfound closeness with Hijikata. I felt a certain tension in the room that Sanan couldn't possibly ignore, but he bore it with grace. There was such nobility in his poise, such refinery in his features … but the purpose embedded deep in his grey eyes never faltered, and it put former friends on edge.

The Rasetsu, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Never a word higher than the rest, with the presence of a predator. I wondered idly if I wasn't affected as much because I'd known deadly and slightly unhinged people before, or only because I'd never known him before he drunk the Ochimizu. The truth was that I didn't care; Sanan was my friend, and he worked himself to the bone for the Shinsengumi. He didn't deserve the cold shoulder.

"Will you sit with us, Sanan-san? The battle is almost over, then we'll leave Heisuke to his beauty sleep."

"The battle?"

"Helm's deep !, two hundred against ten thousand beasts! Can't wait to hear how it worked out," Heisuke piped in. He was literally bouncing on his seat. Such a child … a child tainted by Ochimizu, and prone to bloodlust attacks now.

"Tales of middle earth, Sanan-san," I provided.

The man gave me a long, thoughtful gaze, then nodded.

"Then I shall join you."

He settled in seiza close to me, and I gave him a grateful smile. Whether my tales interested him, or not, I couldn't know. I was just grateful for the gesture.

The story resumed, with more chaos. The march warden's death – Haldir – caused a little commotion, and I blinked tears away at this heartwarming display. No matter how aloof that blond elf had been, how condescending, I was glad that his sacrifice gathered so much reverence. Somehow, it felt like paying a tribute.

As I was about to describe how Aragorn and King Theoden had charged right into the sea of orc's bodies in a desperate attempt to break free – or die, the door swished so brutally on its rails that it creaked. Hijikata stood there, the usual line between his eyebrows, energy crepitating around him.

"Shinpachi! You're supposed to train the youngsters with Saitō today!" he thundered.

The old me would have blushed to be the cause of this, but I had learnt that everyone was responsible for his own ass.

"Damn it, Hijikata-san!" Shinpachi exclaimed. "We're nearly at the end! The guys are charging right now!"

Instead of exploding, Oni no Fukuchō's feature morphed into puzzlement with a 'Ha?' that sounded so much like those I used to hear in my countryside preschool that I giggled. At once, he schooled his features into a stern look and caught my gaze. It sobered me up instantly, and I bowed slightly.

Sanan, ever the smooth talker, saved me from having to explain.

"Your timing is impeccable, as always," he said, his voice caressing. "You only pop up for the climax of the story."

"Sanan-san…", Hijikata growled, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I believe the end is near, take a seat and warm your hands, Hijikata-kun."

An order, a suggestion and a friendly invitation wrapped up in steel. Was it the smile contained in Sanan's voice that convinced our commander to take a sit? Who knew? But I wasn't the only one baffled when Hijikata swished the door close and sat, cross legged, beside the brazier. The room was getting crowded now and I tried hard to contain my blush.

Telling stories to the Baka trio was easy enough. Chizuru, by herself, was attentive and lenient. But the audience was getting a little more stressful, and having those dark eyes boring holes into me didn't help. I took a deep breath, and in the deadly silence, resumed my tale.

"The situation seemed desperate. The Uruks had broken through the outer wall, and the door of the keep. They swarmed the plains as well as the valley, rivers of blood washing ashore as they trudged into the mud."

"Wait, if they're all going to die, I don't want to hear the end," Heisuke said.

Harada cuffed his head, effectively shutting the guy up.

"Urusai," Shinpachi ground. "I'm not a sissy and I want to know."

My arms were shaking from the memory, the utter despair and helplessness I had felt then, wondering if my friends would be slaughtered.

"But they refused to die like this. So Aragorn convinced Theoden King and Eomer, his nephew, to ride out in one last charge. A fistful of knights against a few thousand Uruks. They broke the doors, trampling orcs to the ground, and cried, 'Forth Eorlingas!' And while they did, Gimli the dwarf climbed to the top of the tower, and blew the great horn of the keep. It rattled the whole mountain, long and deep, shaking people's bones and giving hope when there was none."

The mood was getting to them as much as hope swelled in my chest. I remembered crying my lungs out, terrified to see my closest friends exposed in such a suicide sortie. But then, light had flooded the scene.

"When the sun rose to the east, bathing the whole scenery in golden light, they remembered what Gandalf had said."

"To look to the east on the fifth day?" Chizuru chimed in.

"Yes," I smiled. What a memory! "And so they did. Gandalf sad up there, mounted on Shadowfax with two thousand Rohirrims ready for battle. They charged down like a tsunami, clashing through the sea of Huruk with the strength of a light wave while Aragorn and his peers rushed through the back."

I tried not to reminisce on how I'd been felled down by a stupid orc and spend weeks convalescing while gaping at the scene in front of me. I surmised I'd never see a Rohirrim charge again.

"Their mounts trampled their enemies, their sword clove them, and the Uruks fled to the woods, only to be crushed by the spirits of the forest. This is how the battle of Helm's deep was won, with great losses, but a victory nonetheless."

Silence greeted the end of my tale for a moment, the ambers crackling the only noise in the morning light. Until Sanan gave me a lopsided smile.

"It is agreeable to relax and hear legends from another culture," he mused. "I can see analogies in concepts, but the tale is spun so different."

No shit, I thought. Another planet would do that to culture shift.

"Now, Shinpachi !", Hijikata growled.

The second captain sighed and stood, but before he left, he lifted an eyebrow.

"I want to know what happened to that bastard wizard, samaru, eh ?"

I giggle at the name.

"Saruman. Yes. I'll tell you next time."

We left Heisuke's room after that, Sanan remaining behind to speak to the new Rasetsu. As the others trailed away, Hijikata stopped right behind me on the engawa. He stood so close that I could almost feel his heat on my back; his scent, though, carried all the way to my nose and I refrained from slouching backwards. We probably looked utterly badass, or entirely ridiculous standing there still like a set of statues.

No. He'd never look ridiculous. With his purple kimono and grey hakamas – patched up, long hair, serious gaze and chiselled features, Hijikata would never look ridiculous. The air hummed between us, charged like a condensator. The slightest shuffle caused my breath to hitch; he was moving, closing in my personal space.

"You'll tell me the rest of the story … privately," he slid into my ear before striding away. I remained frozen, struggling to keep the blush at bay as I watched his long ponytail dance behind him.

Well, if this isn't an invitation…

Such a bold move … had someone dropped sake in his morning tea?

Nothing much happens here, but I enjoyed this moment. Did you ?