Chizuru stepped outside, enjoying the pleasant weather. Spring had finally arrived with the weather being warmer than it had been for months. Feeling the nice weather again delighted her more than she thought it would; it was like during that long winter, it felt like warmth would never come back again. She walked outside, cherishing this moment away from her chores. The buds on the trees hinted at the future cherry blossoms.

There weren't any other samurai around at least. She had grown used to their stares but it was still unpleasant to bear them, their curious gazes following her sometimes as she wandered around the courtyard. At first she was scared that they realized she was a woman, but instead it was confusion—confusion that she was Hijikata's page when she could barely raise a sword to their standard. Confusion that amplified when she accompanied them and did very little of the fighting, timidly avoiding blows, nursing the wounded. Chizuru swallowed, thinking about it. She didn't socialize with any of them much, and to the rest outside of the captains she was a distant figure, cast in suspicion.

But if they thought she was useless...maybe there was some truth to that. She did feel useless. Or was useless, thoroughly, in an actual sense beyond her mere emotions. The others were basically babysitting her at times, and when the demons were trying to get her, it was clear that her presence was creating a mess. But they still wanted to protect her.

Because she was under their protection, like they said? Or because she was a woman?

Did it really matter?

Instinctively she found her hand trailing to her kodachi. She placed her hand around the hilt and it strangely soothed her, even as the familiar self-doubt bubbled in her stomach. She did know how to use it, but in the heat of the battle, she froze. It wasn't good to rely on her not-well-tested swordplay skills in actual combat, and she wasn't trained to deal with the situations she often encountered with the rest of the Shinsengumi.

But she used to enjoy using this sword a long time ago.

Maybe not too long ago, actually. It just seemed like that, but there was a time when she got up early each morning and practiced outside, trying to make her form as perfect as she could make it, putting in force into her slashes as she hit against the training equipment with her short sword. There were times when she thought she was good at it, and in hindsight, it was her demon strength making an appearance even as she didn't know it yet. She started to be able to defend against her own father quite easily. When she allowed herself to think about it, late at night when she couldn't sleep, she imagined using something bigger, like an actual sword.

I haven't really trained though, she reminded herself, slipping her hand away from the hilt. Father was no real swordsman. I wouldn't be able to match even the other trainee samurai in skill.

In battle, I'll just be a handicap. And...I can't stand the blood. The gore. Death...

"Hello, Chizuru."

She almost jumped at the rich, deep voice to her left. Saito was next to her, and he had been soundless going there.

"Saito! You startled me."

There was a faint smile on his face, one that she would've missed if she hadn't been paying attention. "You seemed to be distracted."

"Oh, I was just thinking," Chizuru said. Her face quickly blushed but she tried to control herself. "I sort of wish I could fight better."

She muttered the last part, embarrassed despite herself. She really was kind of humiliating in that regard...

"You weren't bad when I tested you. You can defend yourself in patrols." His tone was logical and precise. It was on his recommendation that she was taken out regularly on patrols, right at the beginning of her stay with the Shinsengumi.

Chizuru remembered when he had tested her sword skills out of curiosity in the courtyard, Okita standing before them. Saito, as a Shinsengumi captain, clearly was more powerful than her. She remembered his technique better than anything else, how it flowed and could easily take her off-balance. A frown crossed her face.

"There's still a lot I need to learn. I hate knowing what a liability I am on missions. I wish I could do more."

Chizuru rubbed the side of her neck, recalling when he'd fought against Amagiri on her behalf. He could've gotten in danger.

He nodded, quiet. The silence between them was comfortable, and she found no real need to force conversation as they walked together. Saito must have also found time for a small break.

"I can help train you."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! Oh no. You're so busy, I don't want to take your time."

"It would be helpful for everyone," Saito pointed out.

"Thank you, but if it would take time away from your schedule, I have to deny your offer," Chizuru said firmly.

"No," Saito said. "Uplifting an ally is not a waste of time."

She bit the inside of her cheek. An ally...

"If it's not too inconvenient for you then, I guess we could do it," she said.

They headed to the training grounds. Thankfully, there weren't many people there. Chizuru didn't think she could muster the courage to practice if she had to face the judgmental looks of the other samurai. Saito stood before her. She contemplated his figure for a few moments, biting into her cheek, observing his lean figure, how his thin fingers tightened the band in his hair. Even this motion seemed small—he had always seemed very still to her, like an inactive firecracker, waiting for the slightest movement until he would react in a seamless motion. It wasn't as though Chizuru wasn't afraid of him because she was, and she knew he was capable of killing her in a single instant with probably not a single moment of remorse if he felt like he had to; but there was also something sensitive about his appearance, from that slim build and the deceptive messiness of his raven black hair. Deceptive, because it made it look like he was careless, when he was far from it.

He talked to her about some of the techniques first. His hand on the hilt of his sword, he demonstrated to her some of the basic strokes. Chizuru tried to mimic him as best as she could, but her grip was bad and he had to fix it for her, his hands adjusting her fingers. Her slim fingers were easily moveable by his more purposeful ones. Even as she watched him rearrange her fingers, she thought, with a certain kind of vagueness, about the vast knowledge he must've developed over years of training. He'd spent his whole life working to be a samurai, after all.

It occurred to her, thinking of how his eyes had sparkled when he described numerous mechanics, on how much these skills mattered for him to develop them every single day for hours, and then years on end. And how those skills had meant so much to him so that he could defend and serve his allies, his comrades. When he discussed swordsmanship, there was almost a love for it latent in his tone. She'd never seen him so earnest before.

"There, try that," he said in his quiet voice, goosebumps rising on her skin for a reason she couldn't understand. She looked at his face, swallowing. His eyes seemed especially blue then from the sunlight. He was so close to her. There was a slight masculine musk on his skin, though it was not unpleasant.

Chizuru blushed and turned her head away, though she wasn't sure why she was so embarrassed. This wasn't the first time she saw him sweaty, but somehow, it felt different now.

They worked through several different counters. Chizuru sweated and panted too easily compared to him, who seemed to remain as energetic from the first minute of the training to the last, even as sweat began to bead at his forehead. There was no tiring in his strokes, which challenged her to no end. By the end of it, with Chizuru's hands on her knees, her training sword tossed for a moment on the sand, she'd had enough. Her head was so uncomfortably hot she almost wished it was still winter.

"Good job," Saito said quietly, sheltering his sword. "You learn fast."

"You don't need to flatter me, Saito," Chizuru said, offering him a weak smile.

"Everyone needs to start from somewhere."

Chizuru tugged at her shirt, desperately wanting a bath. She was almost embarrassed that Saito was seeing her like this, sweat clinging her hair to her forehead, panting so hard like she was unable to take a single breath. Even as she thought it, she frowned. The countless times she'd aided the members of the Shinsengumi during battles drifted into her mind. Those incidents must have been frustrating for them as well. But she never thought worse of them for it, only determination to help.

She looked at Saito, at his unreadable expression.

The pain in her ribs now felt like less of a useless obstruction and more of a reminder. This was the comfort a person sacrifices so they could help themselves and the people they love. Chizuru understood now. There was a dash of adrenaline pouring through her now, lifting itself through the pain. She was almost grateful towards her body for being able to do this.

Saito was watching her. "How are you feeling?"

"I thought I was going to throw up, but now I think I'm fine."

"Good. Tomorrow, same time then. If you don't protest."

Chizuru's eyes widened. Tomorrow? Again?

"You said you wanted to do more on missions, remember? The most logical way to do so would to gain more ability in swordsmanship, and the way to do that would be daily practice."

He said this in his quiet, measured voice. She couldn't argue against that. Didn't want to argue against it, almost.

Chizuru pursed her lips. "Aren't you busy?"

"Not especially."

Chizuru cracked a smile despite herself. "Well, I'll meet you here then. I can't be a samurai, but I can be less helpless."

A small smile was spreading on his face. It was fleeting, but she saw it. It was there.

I'll see you smile again, Saito, Chizuru thought, sudden emotion bursting in her chest. I'll be the best student you could've ever dreamed of.

And maybe one day...I'll manage to protect you. In the same way you've been protecting me all along.