Chizuru smothered a cough as a plume of dust rose into the air.
Around her, the small storage room was cluttered with boxes, books, stacks of papers, and a spattering of notebooks. And all of it was covered with a more than decent layer of dust.
She had been putting off cleaning this room for a couple years now. Not for any particular reason, there just never seemed to be enough time to make a decent go at it. Now though, with Toshi having taken the kids for a day of attempted fishing and herb gathering, she had several hours to make a go at it.
Chizuru smiled as she hefted one of Kodo's medical tombs. Matsumoto-sensei had been kind to gather everything of value from her home in what was now known as Tokyo. She wasn't sure if the man had bought her lie about Hijikata's death and her own wish to remove herself from society and set up a practice of her own in Ezo, but he had continued to keep in touch with her. Much to Toshi's annoyance, she had told Matsumoto-sensei about the poet Hogyoku, whom she had married and her two children.
The books themselves had been a lifeline for her when she had first begun practicing medicine. There were very few people in need of the skills of a field medic. Over the years she had gown confident enough in her own skill, that she rarely needed to rely on them.
It didn't take her long to collect and sort the books, placing them on a shelf for easy access, before turning to the journals scattered on almost every surface. Some were her own study journals, as she found writing things down helped her remember them. They had started out as medical notes, but had quickly grown to become a repository of memories. Some were filled with memories of growing up with Kodo. Most were filled with memories of her time with the Shinsengumi. Everything from small, personal moments, to accounts of the battles she had witnessed filled the pages. Even if history forgot or rewrote who the Shinsengumi had been, she wanted her children to have an account of their heritage without the fogginess that came with remembering childhood stories. There was also the steadily growing number of journals detailing the memories they had made building their family after the war.
As Chizuru gathered and sorted the journals, she couldn't help but laugh at what writers she and Toshi had become. For every journal filled with her writing, there was sure to be one filled with Toshi's careful calligraphy. In her opinion, the practice had turned him into a masterful poet. She doubted there was much in his current work that Okita could have made fun of. Not that mischievous man still wouldn't have tried.
The rest of the clutter was fairly dull. Boxes with baby clothes, gifts the children had found and made them over the years. There was even a beautiful silk kimono that Hijikata had insisted on purchasing for her, though she wondered when she would ever have occasion to wear something so nice.
Finally, the room was clear of dust and everything was in order. All with the exception of one final box, which for the life of her, Chizuru couldn't remember what she had originally put in it.
Kneeling down, she pulled the box close and opened the lid.
She froze, the lid slipping from numb fingers as she stared at the folds of cloth lying before her. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at the stiff, red vest, it's lapels intricately embroidered. Next to it, lying neatly folded, the white shirt that had been it's companion.
"Chizuru?"
The sound of Toshi's voice fell on deaf ears and Chizuru remained frozen in place, her hands starting to shake.
"Why don't you both go put our catch in the kitchen while I go find your mother."
There was a brief moment of silence before Chizuru heard him at the doorway and he said, "Chizuru?"
She wanted to answer, but by this point, her throat felt thick with tears. Taking a shaky breath, she tried to speak, but nothing came out.
With a rustle of cloth, Toshi knelt down beside her, his hand tracing a soothing path across her shoulders. When he saw the contents of the box, the movement of his hand paused.
It wasn't the clothes themselves that had caused her reaction, it was what permanently marred them. In places the cotton of the shirt was more rust than white and much of the once beautiful embroidery on the vest was stained in horrible shades of brown.
He took a slow breath before squeezing her shoulder and saying, "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."
Chizuru nodded as she managed to keep most of the pent up tears from her voice. She didn't usually overreact like this.
"I'm sorry, I know. I-I just pray they'll never understand the despair I felt that day…"
They both knew who she meant and Toshi pulled her into a tight embrace, cradling her against his chest.
"They won't. The world has changed enough for that at least."
His slim fingers lifted her chin until their eyes met and he lean close as he said, "If I haven't told you recently that you are the strongest woman I know," he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, "you are. And if I haven't told you recently that I love you more than anything," his hand wove into her hair as he gave her a far more passionate kiss on the lips that left her slightly breathless. "I do."
Chizuru raised an eyebrow as she pulled away slightly and said, "More than our children?"
Toshi stared at her in confusion, completely thrown by her question. Unfortunately she had never been very good at hiding her emotions and after only a second or so, a giggle escaped.
More broke loose as Toshi let out a half laugh, half exasperated sigh as he dropped his forehead to her shoulder and said, "Really?"
Once she had her laughter mostly under control, she pushed gently against his chest until he lifted he's face from her shoulder and met her gaze.
Slowly, she raised her hand and traced the arch of his cheekbone with her thumb as she said, "If I haven't told you recently that I love you," she stretched up until her lips barely grazed his. "I do."