Souji had been gathering the resolve to storm up to Hijikata and announce his findings (thereby blowing his mind halfway across the universe), but just as day broke he finally fell prey to unconsciousness. When he snapped awake again, the angle of the sunlight was all wrong; he rolled out of bed and into his clothes, hoping they'd postponed the morning meeting at least long enough for Souji to catch the tail end of it before they rejoined those nuts. There was still one more thing to confirm. He skittered around corners, ignoring the puzzled stares of several zombified squad members—"If you have time to lean," he shouted through the halls, "you have time for three hundred strikes in the training room right this instant," and he took great pleasure in how they scattered like startled cockroaches—

"Easy, tiger."

"Sano-san." Must've missed the meeting already, if Sano was out and about and ripe for collisions.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling . . . vigorous," he said gently as he rubbed his forearm, which had taken the brunt of the impact. "Sounds like you guys had an interesting discussion while I was away yesterday. Perhaps we could catch each other up, eh?"

Passive-aggressive tripe. "Another time, maybe?"

"That was a joke. You know. Since you walked out on them?"

Or maybe not. "Shut up."

"Well yes sir, Hijikata-san."

At this he definitely tasted bile, but for the benefit of all involved decided to ignore it. "I need to talk to you."

"Me? What's got you so worked up this early? Well, I mean, for the rest of us the day is well under way—"

Souji grabbed his arm—right where he expected a bruise was already blossoming—and dragged him into the nearest empty room to the tune of vigorous protests. "Let go of me, you savage—"

"Did you tell Sougo anything about me?"

"No." He shook his arm free, raked a hand through his hair. "We barely spoke once all night."

"I find it hard to believe you kept from talking."

"I swear it, we didn't talk."

"What about Sagaru?"

Sano's dumb face immediately blanched. "Why? Did he say something?"

"What exactly did you tell him? Exactly."

"Just that we worry because you fight so hard. That we try to make you rest, but you never do."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"You swear that's it."

"Yeah, what's. . . ."

"Did Sagaru ever talk to Sougo?"

"No, I don't think so."

"It's fucking important, Sano, did they talk or not?"

"No," Hijikata said sharply, looming in the doorway with his arms folded. This asshole. He must've come snooping at the sound of discord. Guy could smell it like blood in the water. "When the two of them returned, Sagaru was immediately placed into Kondō-san's custody. Isao was the only one of his faction he saw the rest of the day."

"What about Sougo?"

"Sanosuke went to pick him up straightaway. He had strict orders not to let him out of his sight, or to meet anyone else."

Well good fucking work. He'd obviously slipped out of Sano's room, but there was no way he could've snuck into Kondō-san's room, let alone carry on a conversation with his two friends, without Kondō noticing.

There's no way.

"Hijikata-san, those guys. . . ."

"What? We've been over this, I'm not just going to execute them—"

"They're telling the truth."

"—much as I'd like to, at ti—" That's it. Listen for once. While Hijikata struggled to register what that meant, Souji braced himself for the man's bone-melting gaze. Though his best reply was a single moronic, "What?"

"I said we can believe them."

Mind. Blown.

Hijikata pressed a knuckle to his lips thoughtfully, cleared his throat. "What the fuck happened."

"They know."

"They know what?"

"Things that, by all rights, they shouldn't know," he said, fingers tracing the lines of his collar bones. "Things they couldn't know."

Hijikata's eyes widened. "You mean. . . ."

He nodded. "Sougo already knew."

Souji expected overwhelming stupefaction, but Hijikata just chewed the inside of his lip. "Did he say the words specifically."

"No, but—"

"He's gaming you. You goaded him and he's getting you back."

"It's not like that."

"How do you know?" Souji didn't feel like justifying that with an answer that he didn't really have, so he said nothing. Hijikata dropped his arms and sighed warily. "Souji—"

"Don't sigh at me like you're my father. I've made up my mind, isn't that enough to convince you?"

"Why are you trying to convince me of anything?"

Because I deserve to be included? Because I deserve to be heard, and believed? Because I'm right?

"Just trying to clean up my messes." And as he brushed past Hijikata: "For once."

/ / / / /

Yukimura had been instructed not to go near any of them, but it was only a matter of time before the tendrils of her influence informed her of the situation. Toshizō said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever entity had made Kōdō's kid as discreet as she was forthright. Still, the longer they could hold off, the better. Maybe they could even get rid of them before she could manage to get herself involved, as she undoubtedly would.

The night had been long and tense. The new moon meant there was no light to see by, so Toshizō had lain in bed half-awake all night, listening for every tiny rustle of his new roommate. The fact that the guy hadn't so much as rolled over pissed him off more than any escape attempt would have. He had effectively wasted a night of sleep for no reason, just as several consecutive sleepless nights were beginning to catch up with him.

In the morning he had groggily dropped Tōshirō off at daycare (otherwise known as Saitō, since Shimada was preparing for his trip through Tama) along with the others, allowing Toshizō and crew to convene in the common room for a short planning session. Souji had, of course, been late, but the rest reported no problems with any of the tama. In fact, Kondō-san seemed downright pleased with his interactions with Isao and Sagaru. Which was disconcerting. Sanosuke said that Sougo had behaved himself, but had the day previous warned that Sagaru was much sharper than he let on. It was probably not a good idea for him to stay the night with any of his friends, either. Toshizō would probably have to rope poor Saitō into boarding one of them soon.

And Souji—he was his own problem. Then again, that was hardly news. It was as if he had truly expected a claim like that to be accepted without evidence. Guts were not evidence. They could guide one to evidence, certainly, but Souji wasn't one to follow evidence and reason anyway. Toshizō had considered stopping him as he stole away in his tantrum, but figured he'd just rip Souji's fucking arm off, so he let him go. Harada too had backed out of the room uneasily, giving an equally uneasy smile before zipping off.

What a pack of idiots I lead.

Toshizō, finding himself again at the door to the "jail", leaned against the cool wall, flattening his shoulders back, stretching his neck. He listened awhile, absently; the voices within were hesitant and biting, but bright. If he applied himself he could pick out a phrase here and there from his own men. The strangers were more difficult to parse. When he felt his brain slipping he took a deep breath and pushed off from the wall to join them.

But there was Saitō.

This was not going to be easy. "Morning." When the hell had he snuck up, anyway? Toshizō angled to pass him, but Saitō sidestepped to block access to the door.

Toshizō shifted on his feet, waiting for him say something. But, of course, nothing. Just looked at him with that damn face. "Shut up."

He continued saying nothing.

"Later. Okay?"

His gentle stare bored deeper, even more painful for its gentleness.

"Tch. Fine, I yield." And not without a tingle running through his spine. It was a marvelous thing, when Saitō bothered to appear menacing. "I'm sure you've heard some . . . things."

"Indeed, sir."

"The thought of explaining this is exhausting, so why don't you observe for now and ask whatever you can't pick up."

"I desire nothing more."

"Shit, Saitō," he muttered. "You've really got to work on that." Saitō offered one final glare before disappearing inside.

(TOSHIZŌ enters U.L. after SAITŌ. A twelve-mat room barely large enough to contain their growing numbers, now at nine, including also TŌSHIRŌ, SOUJI, SOUGO, ISAMI, ISAO, ZAKI, and HARADA. They are friendlier, some even mingling among the other faction, but most keep to their own. The shōji at U.R. open to a small courtyard; it is cracked, and there is snow without but it is not actively snowing. TOSHIZŌ's hands linger on the closed sliding doors U.L.; visibly perturbed, he stands facing them for a time as the chatter in the room slowly subsides. One by one the others turn to look at him.)

TŌSHIRŌ. (Gaze on SAITŌ as he sits down.) This again.
ISAMI. What are you doing over there, Toshi? Come on in.
TOSHIZŌ. (Turns; with measured suspicion.) What's going on in here?
SOUJI. What, did you expect it to be so easy leaving me out a second time?
TOSHIZŌ. No, it's not . . . it's not that. . . .
ISAMI. What's the matter?
TOSHIZŌ. (Rounding on TŌSHIRŌ.) It's you, isn't it? You've done something. I know it.
TŌSHIRŌ. What? What'd I do, what the hell are you talking about?
TOSHIZŌ. Something's wrong in here, I can feel it. What did you do?
TŌSHIRŌ. Oh, this? Just an experiment. Not exactly turning out like I'd hoped, but . . . actually if more of us start talking, it might be better. We do have such similar looking names. . . .
SOUGO. Like this?
TŌSHIRŌ. Yes, thank you.
ZAKI. How can he even tell anything's changed? I thought we were the only ones with that kind of perspective.
TŌSHIRŌ. That is the whole reason they don't trust us.
SOUJI. Actually, I think Hijikata-san has something to say about that.
TŌSHIRŌ. (Crossing his arms.) Does he, now?
ISAMI. What does he mean, Toshi?
TOSHIZŌ. Souji, do not put words in my mouth. Not today. Although—to be clear, not ever, never put words in my mouth.
ISAO. (Ignoring them, starts his own conversation.) I'm not convinced that's totally true, Zaki.
TŌSHIRŌ. You know, I guess I have had my suspicions about that guy.
TOSHIZŌ. You—stop discussing me so casually. And fix this.
TŌSHIRŌ. No thank you, I find this is kind of working out. Say something, Kondō-san.
ISAO. What? Why?
TŌSHIRŌ. See? Isn't that ni—wait a m—do you not know what's happening?
ISAO. Not totally, but I'm not interested either. You two are like the blades in a blender, I'm not about to be involved when things start spinning.
HARADA. Thing is, Souji suddenly believes you folks are telling the truth. (All are taken aback.)
TŌSHIRŌ. What did you just say?
HARADA. I don't know all the details—
TOSHIZŌ. The hell you don't. (Beat.) Actually, I don't either. Care to elaborate, Souji?
SOUJI. I figured I'd leave it to Sougo. (SOUJI looks to him smugly, but SOUGO remains calm and passive.) Go on. Tell them.
SOUGO. (With uncharacteristic gravity.) If you don't mind, I'd rather tell only Isami-san. I don't want Hijikata finding out if he doesn't have to.
TOSHIZŌ. You should know, then, that what you tell him, you effectively tell me.
SOUGO. I meant mine. (TŌSHIRŌ is confused, but shrugs it off. SOUGO approaches ISAMI, ignoring how SAITŌ and TOSHIZŌ tense, hands on their hilts. SOUGO leans in and cups his mouth, whispers into ISAMI's ear, and the man's eyes widen with parallel seriousness. SOUGO nods once respectfully and sits back down between TŌSHIRŌ and ISAO.)
SOUJI. Well?
ISAMI. (Beat.) I'd have to say that settles it. (TOSHIZŌ looks skeptical and motions to him, inviting him to share; ISAMI likewise whispers.)
TOSHIZŌ. Damn. (Slaps his palms down on his knees, leans over his lap; muffled.) Fuck me.
ISAMI. (Patting TOSHIZŌ's back.) Not bad, right?
TOSHIZŌ. (Surfacing.) So we get to keep them around now. Great.
TŌSHIRŌ. Wait, that's it? We're good?
TOSHIZŌ. If you can behave, and promise to work on getting the hell out of here.
ISAO. Of course. That's all we want.
ISAMI. They won't need to join the general population, of course, but we can't hide away with them at all hours either. They're going to be seen. How shall we explain their presence to the lower ranks?
TOSHIZŌ. Bring them on board, that's the easy answer.
SOUJI. And risk them saying something utterly insane?
TOSHIZŌ. That's why the easy answer is impossible. I'm also not quite ready to give them back their weapons.
HARADA. (Shrugging.) Anybody asks, they're rowdy relatives of the Maekawa come to visit. The old-timers met the Yagi, but nobody knows a Maekawa—
TOSHIZŌ. Okay, wait. No. Seriously, I can't, this has to stop.
TŌSHIRŌ. I don't see what the big deal is, you're the only one that's bothered.
TOSHIZŌ. Know what, I don't give a shit, change it back.
TŌSHIRŌ. Fine. You ass. (Stands, dusts off his yukata, straightens his obi.)

"There, is that better? Twerp?"

Toshizō sighed twerpishly, relaxing like a man sinking into a hot bath and completely unaware that he was no longer the perspective character. "Yes, I think so."

His satisfaction with what, to Souji, was just a neatening of clothes, earned him quite the high-arched brow. "I think Sano-san might've been right, about one thing at least."

He, in turn, received the requisite death glare; foreseeing a fight, Tōshirō dumped the contents of his yukata sleeve on the tatami before him, preferring to witness it while sucking down sweet, sweet nicotine. Sougo's flat stare unnerved him, as it was wont to do. "What is it now?"

"No way am I going to be related to this dirtbag."

He gritted his teeth and popped a cigarette between his lips. "You wanna live? Deal with it, punk."

"What happens when you run out of those, Hijikata-san?"

"Ahn?" The thing bobbed as he mumbled obscenities and reached for his lighter.

"Don't tell me you haven't given it any thought. Last time you were deprived of smokes you ended up reenacting whole sh—"

"Whose fault was that? Kindly shut it, Sougo." He swatted at Souji's hand, curiously crinkling the pack's plastic in his fingers. All haku eyes were on him as flame appeared and set to the end of the cigarette. He eyed them back. "You people don't have lighters, I take it."

Four heads shook.

"But matches, I hope. . . ."

They nodded.

"Good. Because this thing's surely about spent."

And stared.

"Oh, for hell's sake." He rolled his eyes and handed the lighter to Souji for inspection. "Don't blame me if you burn yourself."

"I'm not stupid, I can see how it works." It took only three clicks for a successful little flame to sprout in his hands. He suppressed a smile. "What is it, kerosene in there?"

"Something like that."

"This is all very educational," said Toshizō, "but if you fools don't mind I'd like to move on to actual impactful business."

"Eat me, Haku-san, I'm talking."

Souji clapped his hands over his mouth with wild amusement, just as everyone else nearly expelled their eyes from their skulls. "Excuse me?" Toshizō drawled.

No turning back now. "I said I'm sharing my love of smoking, and that I'll let you know when I'm through."

"Oh no you don't—"

"Think about yourself for a second. Would you lie down and take orders from me if the situation were reversed? No. You'd nose in every chance you got to assert your own dominance. I know that because you're like me, and that's my fucking instinct, so if you could just back off for like a minute and let me do my thing. Hijikata."

"I'm afraid he's right, Toshi." Isami had a monstrous grip on one of Toshizō's wrists, though it seemed probationary, since Toshizō wasn't actually lunging. He was too busy being butthurt by such brazen backtalk. "We can't be surprised anymore that their personalities are similar to our own."

"Do I have to like it?"

Souji harrumphed. "Imagine how the rest of us feel, Hijikata-san."

And Toshizō probably could have slapped him halfway across the universe.

Though the ensuing and beautifully predicted argument was highly entertaining (Is it just as satisfying to others when I get trolled? he wondered guiltily), Tōshirō leaned into Sougo. "Surprisingly—good work. Looks like you've managed to gain us some real points here."

"Surprisingly thanks."

"What'd you tell them?"

It was remarkable, the solemnity in his bearing as he shook his head—stiff, uncertain, so un-Sougo. "Don't." It was nothing like Tōshirō's command the day before, a political performance with an ulterior message. This one was real. Tōshirō was too confused to press him, brows crumpling as Sougo plucked something from his sleeve and peered at it. "Let's just focus on getting home as soon as possible, Hijikata-san. Now—" he grunted as he stood and walked right over to Souji, nudging him quiet, a black hair pinched in his fingertips. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare wara ningyō, by chance."