It took most of the day to clean up the mess in my study. My mind heavy, I swept up all the shards of glass and loose powders, saving what I could. I moved the broken desk to the back of the room and hid it behind a screen, thinking to ask for help clearing it out at a later time. A few men came and went, asking for my advice with various minor symptoms. Herbs for a stomach ache; a potion for fatigue; an ointment for muscle pain. I served them all with genuine kindness, but smiled with a cheer that was far from bone-deep. Once they were gone, I kept cleaning. Falling into a steady, mindless rhythm, I allowed my thoughts to wander at will.

A few times, I tried to reach for the swords at my waist, thinking to keep my body healthy with some routine practice. But each time I came close to drawing my blade, my hands began to shake as though I held a roiling cauldron between them. My head hurt and I wavered dizzily on my feet. Adrenaline rushed through my gut; a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. It was the same as it had been for weeks. Ever since the night I'd fought the monsters in the alley, I hadn't been able to use my sword at all. Each attempt left me breathless and sick. The horrors of the fight and of my life in the months after Father's kidnapping had taken their toll.

Late into the afternoon, Yamazaki came to help. He'd heard of the accident from Saito, he explained, and wanted to make sure I received a hand in lifting the heavy shelves. He looked disappointed when I told him some of the patients had helped me earlier. I found it quite endearing that he'd been so eager to help. As I watched him work out of the corner of my eye, I noted the grace and fluidity of his movements. He was a thin young man, unconventionally handsome and quite dedicated to his work. Every time he put a jar back on the shelf, he turned it just so until the label was clearly visible. He asked multiple times if things were organized to my convenience.

I answered him with guilt weighing heavily in my heart. Though I'd been here nearly three months, I didn't feel that I had done enough for these people to treat me with such kindness and care. Perhaps I just wasn't used to meeting humans like this. They seemed so different from any I had met before. Father and I had encountered our share of kind souls, but the individuals I'd met over the past months weren't just kind. They were unique. They'd given me — a stranger — a distinguished post and promised me their protection. They gave me food and shelter, had even promised to help me search for my father.

"How long have you been with the Shinsengumi, Yamazaki-san?"

"Some years now," he answered.

"Has the headquarters always been here in Kyoto?"

"No. We recently moved into this compound. It was a gift for our accomplishments. Why do you ask?"

"It's just so…peaceful here. Considering how much conflict there is in Kyoto with the Shogunate, I didn't expect that."

Somehow, living in the Shinsengumi headquarters was starting to feel natural. I rose each morning and donned my physician's garb. I made my rounds among the men, asking after their health. I treated those that needed it. I brewed potions, synthesized powders, and processed herbs. If I had time, the cooks even let me help them in the kitchens. Harada, Nagakura, and Heisuke loved to drink and banter; they let me sit beside them, smiling as I observed their joy and joined in the laughter of their antics. At night, I slept. Sometimes well; other times, not. The simplicity of this everyday routine was growing on me, making me complacent. I thought back to the tome my father had left behind and stifled another bout of nausea. My thumb pressed into the bridge of my nose. The headache was back.

"Are you feeling alright?" my cleaning companion asked. "You look a little pale, Yukimura-san."

"Yes. It's just a bit dusty in here, isn't it?" Padding over to the door, I slid it open as far as it would go until the chill of the night crept inside the room. A light mist sighed over the brown and gold tatami, smelling of pine trees and rain. Birds had settled down for the evening, abandoning the compound to slumber in a cocoon of silent calm. Only the sound of the wind and the wooden chimes above my door clok-cloking together remained. The sight of the mountain beckoned, drawing forth a wave of nostalgia of the days when Father and I had spent the winter in its passes. Where was he now? Was he climbing that mountain again? Was he searching for me as I was searching for him? What trouble had he gotten himself into? Surely, whatever all of the evidence suggested, he wasn't at fault.

"Yukimura-san," Yamazaki called. "I believe everything is in order." I looked back in his direction, my eyes roving over the room. It was in much better shape than this morning when I'd brought Souji here. Funny how the accident had been a catalyst to finally settling in. A few candles lit up the room with a cozy glow. I couldn't help but smile.

"It looks wonderful. Thank you for your help today, Yamazaki-san. I hope I haven't interfered with your duties."

"Not at all," he replied with a shake of his head. "I was told you were injured when the shelves fell. Are you alright?"

"Yes. Please don't concern yourself. It was just a small cut to my calf, and I've already treated it."

"I see."

An awkward silence followed. Yamazaki's lips curved downward on one side in a semblance of a frown. He rubbed his palms on his hakama, looking very much like he had something to say.

"Yukimura-san, forgive me." He suddenly turned and bowed deeply to me, startling me so much I started waving my hands in the air in a frantic plea for him to stop.

"Why in the world are you apologizing, Yamazaki-san?"

"I am aware of…why…this accident occurred," he said with his head still lowered. "I have pulled aside the men responsible and have scolded them accordingly. They have been reminded that the rules of the Shinsengumi are absolute."

"Rules?"

"Yes." He finally straightened, much to my relief. "Should they repeat such an offense again, they will be asked to commit seppuku for engaging in personal conflict and endangering our physician."

I thought I misheard him, but when I asked for clarification, he just repeated the same thing.

"Seppuku?"

His eyes darted away from mine. I reflexively pinched the bottom of my throat. "It was just a prank…they meant no harm. It was my fault for climbing that rickety old desk. That punishment…doesn't seem fair." When he didn't say anything else, I pressed on. "Yamazaki-san, those men were just worried for you. I'm certain they didn't mean for anything bad to happen."

"That is why I have apologized to you. I hope my assisting you today has helped make up for their rudeness. In part, this is my fault as well."

"Please, I am just a stranger to you all. There is no reason for you to worry for me so."

"Whether you have been here three months or three years," Yamazaki cut in, his voice hard. "You are our guest and our physician. They have violated one of the cardinal rules they have vowed to upkeep."

"Will…they be alright? Hijikata-san is…"

…scary.

"The Vice Commander will give them a stern talking to. Because you weren't injured, their punishment will be light. It is likely they will be given extra duties and patrols for several weeks." Hearing that was a relief. My own stupidity had landed me in this situation. No one should have to pay for my mistake.

Seeing as the room was cleaned up and neither of us was in the mood for further conversation, Yamazaki excused himself. On his way out, Harada intercepted him. When he saw me, his face softened into an easy-going smile that always worked to settle my nerves.

"Chizuru, is everything all cleaned up now?"

I wanted to hide under a rock. Did the entire compound know about my clumsiness?

"Yes, thanks to Yamazaki-san's help."

"Good night, Yukimura-san," the young medic bowed.

"Are you going to Shimabara for drinks?" I asked Harada, bowing my head in return. "It's chilly tonight. Make sure you stay warm." I directed this particularly at Harada, who preferred wearing short sleeved jackets despite the fact that it was already November. I raised my chin and gave him the best intimidating "doctor's orders" glare I could manage.

"Don't you know, Chizuru?" Harada winked. "Sake warms you up plenty."

"So I have been told," I smiled. In theory, I knew that. But, I had never imbibed personally. Sake cost a pretty penny, and such luxuries were out of Father's and my reach while traveling on the road. I still laughed at Harada's comment, though. Somehow, he always put me at ease. As their physician, I should have told them not to drink too much or stay out too long, but I kept my silence. I'd nagged enough for one day. That, and my headache was starting to worsen. "Have a good time."

"Don't look so down, Chizuru," Harada bent down and ruffled my hair. A gave a half-hearted protest despite the fact I didn't mind at all.

I watched them walk off into the distance, Nagakura swiftly joining them around the corner, and thought they seemed to be close. Their body language, gestures, and words spoke of a long and firm friendship. How had they met? What was their story? I'd never wanted to know so much about humans in the past. Those that Father and I treated were just…people. A source of income for us to survive and a way to make it feel like life had a meaning beyond a shallow existence. I enjoyed helping others and watching their ailments leave them. The feeling was fulfilling. Living here with the Shinsengumi, too, was somehow fulfilling in its own way.

But, I could never lose sight of my goals and why I was here, especially now when I'd found my father's tome and the elixir recipe. Retreating into my study, I freshened the oil lamp with fuel and began gathering the materials I would need for my investigation. No matter how I tried, I would likely not be able to sleep that night. Thus, I had to make good use of my time.


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I woke up drenched in sweat, the right side of my face sore from being smushed to the papers on my desk. For several minutes, I fought to calm my racing heart. I was no longer a stranger to nightmares, but this one had been particularly haunting. I suppressed a shudder and pushed my damp bangs away from my face. My clothes were soaked, too. I wondered if I'd ever be able to sleep normally again. Every time I closed my eyes, the men I'd slain haunted me behind my eyelids. 'Murderer', they called me.

Monster.

Taking a deep breath, I began to put away all the notes I'd been making on Father's books. I began my investigation by chronicling everything the Shinsengumi had told me about my father thus far. On a separate parchment, I'd been trying to draw out a timeline of events starting from his kidnapping to my arrival in Kyoto. The huge gaps left me feeling dejected. I wished I had more to go on than what I'd been told. If only Kondou would allow me to go out on patrols with the men, I could ask about my Father in the city. I could search the shops, the inns, even the slums and brothels. Father was a kind man. He would treat anyone if they needed help, no matter their station.

Discovery of the tome had added a sense of urgency to my quest. I still had no idea what the monsters in the alleyway were or how they were related to the Shinsengumi, but my gut instinct insisted that my father and the elixir were somehow involved. I dreaded to think that the elixir might somehow fall into human hands. But, what could I do except worry? In my position, I couldn't even properly search for him, let alone investigate further into the origins of the monsters I'd seen. For the first time in weeks, I felt resentful of my life with the Shinsengumi. They'd all trapped me here. I was, for all intents and purposes, on house arrest even though I hadn't done anything wrong. Though I worked as their physician and received a generous stipend, I was not allowed to leave the premises without permission. If I moved between buildings in the compound, I had to have an escort. How was it possible that they trusted me with the lives of their men but did not trust me enough to go outside?

But you have done something wrong, haven't you? – a sinister voice whispered in my thoughts. You've taken lives. You've shed blood.

And I could never make up for that. Perhaps this was my punishment, then. From fate or whatever forces decided our destinies. As a doctor here, I could potentially save lives. I could help others. Was that not redemption enough? Was I to be denied happiness with my family because I'd fought to save myself? Frustrated, I stood and looked at the swords at my waist. My hand reached for the hilt of my katana, but as soon as it got close, the shaking started again. Gritting my teeth, I clenched the hilt until my knuckles turned white. A wave of nausea stole my breath. A headache built right above the bridge of my nose, a deafening ringing filling my ears. Letting out a ragged sigh, I let go of the sword and dropped my hands to my sides.

This simply wouldn't do. I couldn't stand how pathetic I was. Of course Kondou didn't want me going on patrols. I was useless in this state. What if I had to help defend the men? What if I had to defend myself? As a doctor, I recognized my condition as trauma, but there was nothing I could do to be rid of it. Angry with myself, exhausted from a fitful sleep, and so frustrated I wanted to start throwing things at walls, I paced the room. Sometimes, to cure trauma, one simply had to face their fears. Why was I so terrified of holding my blade? Because I was afraid to die? No, that wasn't it. Because I was afraid of losing control. The demon inside me did not listen to reason. It simply slaughtered anything and everything in its way.

But, it was still a part of me. Surely that meant I could tame it somehow.

If I didn't prove myself to Kondou and Hijikata, I couldn't keep looking for Father.

Are you sure he didn't just abandon you? – Souji's voice echoed through my memories. My heart squeezed in pain.

Throwing off my outer jacket, I stepped outside into the frigid night air. Looking about for anyone that might be wandering around, I stepped out into the side gardens and found a space where I could freely stretch out my arms and move around without hitting any trees or plants. Satisfied that the trees hid me from immediate view and knowing everyone was likely asleep at this late hour, I brought my right hand to my sword.

…and nearly doubled over from the headache. My hands shook, the tremors racking my entire upper body. My ears rang with the sounds of the villagers screaming in horror. The growls and cackles of the monsters in the alley pressed in on me. The fire from the ruined village licked at my skin. All around were the eyes of dead, looking into my soul, accusing me of murder. Gritting my teeth until I thought they might crack, I fought against these sensations until, inch by inch, I drew my sword from its scabbard and held it before me.

It shook like a leaf in the wind. I took an offensive stance. My legs trembled as though made of gelatin. I collapsed to my knees, my blade clattering to the ground. Visions of my sword slicing through the horse and rider in the village made me clutch at my stomach and dry heave. My mind relived that moment again and again. The horse screaming as it fell. The blood splattering everywhere. The taste of it in my mouth. Had I not skipped my evening meal, I would have vomited. I sucked in huge gulps of air as though I was drowning, pinching the bridge of my nose and shaking my head to clear my ears of the accursed ringing.

When everything calmed and I could think rationally again, I crawled to my sword. Just imagining holding it almost sent me back to the brink of madness. I sat there for time unknown, reaching for it, knowing I needed to sheathe it yet terrified of touching it at all.

Are you sure he didn't just abandon you?

What if Father did leave me? Was I so disposable? Was I so weak and pathetic? Worse yet, had he sensed the evil inside me? Did he know the terrible things I was capable of? Is that why he left?

So lost in my fear and grief was I that I hardly noticed someone approach from behind me. A pair of sandals and the hems of grey hakama appeared in my view. Each step was quiet; no louder than the November breeze. I looked up and through blurry vision saw a pair of hard blue eyes, such a deep color of azure they would have held the sky's envy. Black hair fell over a stoic face with refined cheekbones and a stubborn chin crowned with thin yet sensual lips.

"Saito-san," I murmured. The wind toyed the white scarf around his neck, the silken threads seeming to glow in the moonlight. He said nothing, and I could read nothing from him. Yet in that rigid and immovable posture – in those breathtaking eyes – I saw a kind of understanding that could only stem from someone who had shared the same experience as I. Our gazes locked together, molding, melding…sharing. Here was a man who had killed far more than I had…yet he stood proud. His hand did not shake or falter. His heart did not tremble. He was as solid as the mountain on the distant horizon.

Mortified that he should see my weakness like this, I turned away.

"Attack me," he commanded in a voice that bore no disobedience.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Pick up your sword and attack me." The gossamer whisper of steel sliced through the cold air around us. Saito drew his sword with his left hand and held it beside him.

"Saito-san, what are you—"

"You wish to come with us on patrols, do you not?"

I bit my lip and flinched back. "I did…"

"You did? Or you do?"

"I…I've had some time to think…and perhaps I'll only be a burden…"

"Then, you've given up on finding Kodo." When I didn't answer, he pressed. "I understand. You wish to remain caged here until we have no further use for you or until you are satisfied that your father is dead."

The cruelty of his words took me by surprise. I wasn't ready for the truth he offered and its lack of mercy. Was that how he saw me? Already a burden? Already a coward? Anger giving me momentum, I lurched to my feet and faced him.

"Of course I haven't given up!" I shouted.

His eyes flickered to the sword at my feet. 'Pick it up' his gaze commanded.

"I…I can't…I've killed…I…what if I hurt you?"

He blinked, and I felt stupid for even suggesting I could hit him.

"Impossible," he said with a noncommittal shrug. His dismissal sparked my ire.

"You say that, but you saw what happened in the alley that night!" The words flew out of me before I could stop them. "You saw how I attacked Okita-san. I lost control. I wasn't myself. I was—" My hands flew over my mouth. I'd almost said something I shouldn't have. Shaking my head, I forced myself to breathe. "I don't want to kill again."

"All things die eventually."

I shook my head. "It isn't the same."

His eyes narrowed. "There are many types of people in the world. Some who will not wield a blade to save themselves and some who will. Some who wield it to save others and some who wield it to serve others. That night, why did you wield your blade? Why did you kill?"

I'd never heard Saito speak this much at once. His voice entranced me, the power and conviction in it like hands that pushed against my back and straightened my shoulders.

"I was scared…for my life."

"So, you wielded it to save yourself. And if you go on patrol and draw your sword. Why will you draw it? For the Shinsengumi? For your father?"

I had no answer to that, but his words had helped my hands stop trembling at least.

"Saito-san, when you spoke to Hijikata-san and Kondou-san after I first woke up here…you said my blade was unclouded. What did you mean by that?"

I gasped when he pointed his sword at me. It happened so quickly. One second I was speaking; the next, the tip of his katana hovered just a hair's breadth away from cutting into the skin at the base of my throat. Still trapped in his gaze, I didn't step back.

"If I was ordered to take your life in this moment," he said, "I would not hesitate. I have taken many lives."

My eyes trailed down the edge of his blade. It glimmered like a mirror in the moonlight. I saw the sheen of oil and powder upon it, signs of great care. Yet, it was thinner than my own blade. It had been worn down, sharpened, and oiled in an endless cycle. It was a sword that tasted of battle and death regularly. Yet, in his hand, it did not waver. His words had been spoken with detachment.

"Killing doesn't…bother you?"

"Why should it? If I live according to my beliefs and my convictions, I should have no regrets in cutting down those who would break them." In another blink of an eye, he sheathed his blade. "Every creature must live by its conviction and has a right to fight in order to keep living. Why should you be any different?" He knelt down and picked up my sword, handing it to me with the blade facing him. Showing trust. Or, an unshakable confidence that I couldn't ever hurt him.

As though under a spell, I took the sword and held it in my hand. For a moment, nothing happened. No shaking. No pain. No nausea. Then, the illusion began to crack at the seams. I took a defensive stance, but the blade began to clatter and rattle as my hands trembled. Still, I refused to let go. At least in front of him, I did not want to look like a coward.

Saito closed his eyes. I thought I saw the hint of a smile tug at his lips.

"I will come again tomorrow to test the clarity of your resolve," he said, turning on his heel to leave. "If you wish to live…if you wish to find Kodo…you must keep moving forward. Memory of the dead can only hold you back."