"…Toshi." Like a chant murmured to a deity, the name rolled off his tongue, reverent and sincere. "I came back."

And it felt good, so good, to have the starving space between Kondo's arms filled once more…damn good to feel Hijikata's spine pressed unto his chest. He basked in the privilege of reveling in this closeness, despite the impending difficult conversation that would wreck it all in a fraction of a second.

Because for as competent and practical as the vice commander was, he was as equally affected and moody; temperamental was likely the kindest descriptor, but even that (ironically) would be considered offensive enough to rouse ire and denial. And though Hijikata's emotionalism often threw a wrench into the prospect of long-standing harmony, it was just one part of an entire package—one Kondo wanted complete with all the pieces, beautiful and unsightly alike.

So, he'd embraced him—unexpectedly. To that impulsive gesture, Hijikata's hands at last rose, his palms pressing upon the forearms crossed over him and giving them an almost tentative pat, before his fingertips curled in.

Though the bearings remained difficult to navigate and the ice dangerously thin, it was a promising initial reaction; at the very least, there'd been no outright shut down, and though the ultimate hope had been a verbal response, the physical one was acceptable enough for the meantime. Whatever the case, it seemed the best chance of success would arise from Kondo starting with his own strife and easing into the actual subject of his concern.

He therefore tacked on, "Empty-handed," to his previous statement after the fact, while drawing Hijikata even closer and nuzzling dark locks.

"You expected otherwise." While Hijikata's response erred on snappish, he made no effort to disengage himself from the clutches which had ensnared him. "I said it all from the beginning in one word. Choshu."

"I remember. And you know why I had to try, regardless of that."

The huff which followed indicated the opposite. That Hijikata hadn't offered outright contest was indicative of his desire to not venture into uncomfortable waters—a silent but resilient demand to step off if Kondo was even considering such an avenue. Reading that warning loud and clear, he settled to start by dipping his toes into the deep end, instead of taking a full-on plunge.

"Ne…Toshi…" A pause. "The last weeks have been so hard."

"Of course." Hijikata hadn't precisely sounded frustrated, but the air about his response thrummed with apathy and displeasure. "Do you also recall me being against you going in the first place, for exactly that reason?" The coldness contrasted Kondo's warmth, played right into all the classic telltale signs of attempting to conceal inward distress by appearing outwardly impassive. As always, Hijikata was a master of pivot—but Kondo was rather skilled in the art himself, and matched his turn with flawless synchronization.

In truth, if the occasion were different, Kondo would have respected Hijikata's boundaries and penchant for reticence without question; however, after the gravity of what had transpired in his absence, he wasn't about to leave matters of mending to either chance or time. No, on this particular instance, the stakes were too high. He would be sure they braved through the burdens and emerged no worse for wear—together. It was the responsibility he both wanted and readily accepted, from choosing and miraculously being chosen by the ever-elusive Hijikata Toshizo.

For that, Kondo pressed on, inching further and further toward the edge of what he knew was a very dangerous precipice. "…It's been hard on all of us, I mean." A beat, when he felt Hijikata's lungs still, and recognized that this was the tipping point. "Toshi, I'm sorry. I never intended to—"

He'd been right. At last, it was the one push that went too far, and the tension mounted with full force before Kondo could finish what he'd begun to say.

"We knew the situation." The interjection sliced right into the forefront, petulant and stiff—almost formal. "What matters is that you're alive. You fought, you tried, you came back. End of story."

"Aa…" Kondo slowly began. "I did promise you I would."

"So, as long as that's the case, we can just keep going forward." A breath to indicate finality fell from Hijikata then and the harshness about him began to ease; it seemed he believed control over the dialog was now entirely in his grasp, and in turn could be limited to Kondo's experience while avoiding his own. "Forget about what happened in Hiroshima, Kat-chan. That wasn't on you and we're moving onto greater things."

Hijikata's belief was wrong, however.

"I could say the same to you."

Another sarcastic huff followed. "Interesting claim, since I wasn't the one needlessly putting my life on the line."

"No?" Kondo gazed toward the tatami in the distance, bracing himself within the last remnants of peace. His lashes fell and he brushed the strong line of his jaw against Hijikata, inhaling deeply before dropping the match that would detonate into an inferno. Falling, falling, falling… "Just your reputation, then."

And the universe erupted into flames.

Hijikata's spine went rigid. His chest temporarily suspended with the bating of his breath.

"Toshi." Kondo's voice went low and gravelly, calm.

The hands which had clasped to him fell like weights. "Don't."

"It wasn't your fault." Ignoring the scoff, Kondo stressed, "Listen to me. Kawai wasn't your fault."

"This is ridiculous."

Kondo felt an outward shove against his arms as Hijikata attempted to disentangle himself, but remained firm with his hold. "Gen-san told me how you, how everyone, tried so hard. And I know—" While the tiny struggle of push and pull wore on, the words continued to fall forth from his lips, careless like an inebriate spilling sake. Whatever it took, he needed to be heard, needed to excise the blame and soothe the lasting injury. "—I know that last time when I came back from Edo, things were—It was all different back then, Toshi, so—I just want you to know that I know it's—"

Hijikata's face snapped to the side. "What do you know?!" The tug of war, of holding and wanting to break free, grinded to an immediate halt and neither made a further move in or against his own favor. That question cut deep, had Kondo's chest tightening and stole the sentiment right from his tongue. "You don't know anything at all!" Hijikata promptly shut his eyes and he turned away again. "I don't need you, or anyone, to justify my actions when I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Still taken aback from the intensity of the barrage, Kondo's brow furrowed, and certainly for lack of better wording, he stammered, "…I know."

A stiff shake of Hijikata's head complemented the increased abrasion in his tone. "I'm doing what's necessary."

Taking a moment to gather himself, Kondo realized something by the heaviness in that response; the divulgence of feelings he thought he'd have to coax had been imminent all along with minimal provocation, for the impossible amount of tension which Hijikata kept bottled up over weeks had been a single breath away from rupturing this whole time. And while Kondo was willing to catch all of it—to catch him—such awareness had him backpedaling, his tone markedly growing softer to not exacerbate the situation. "Toshi, I know. And I completely support—"

However, even as he went slack in attempt to ease some of the rapidly augmenting pressure, Hijikata only became more rigid and defensive. Impenetrable and not open to debate, he hadn't even allowed Kondo to finish as he continued his own tirade. "What's necessary for the Shinsengumi, for everyone."

"Of course, Toshi. I never said—"

And that marked the point of no return, when whatever veneer of possession Kondo thought he had over this exchange met its conclusive demise. Past experience advised him to lay off until Hijikata unwound from his current state, but he'd continued his futile attempts until the limit was reached. Now, the scales tipped completely, the world skewed, and the next thing Kondo realized was that he'd trapped himself in a room with an unleashed tiger.

And worse yet, that tiger was wounded.

Snarling, Hijikata violently thrust his elbows out with enough strength to emancipate himself from Kondo's grasp and staggered forward, the volume of his words increasing as his shoulders began to rise and fall. "Even if that means enforcing seppuku. Even if the man who committed it was innocent, even if we all knew he was covering for someone else."

Whirling on the soles of his socked feet, Hijikata turned back to Kondo. Their vision had adjusted to the dark, the pale blue light from outside faint but present enough to allow them to clearly make out each other's expressions. And Hijikata's eyes, they were rife with a formidable cocktail: of anger, of mortification…of other things he very likely must have preferred to keep to himself.

Still, with a half-hearted shrug, his hands barely lifted near his hips. "Even if it's over fifty ryo."

Kondo was almost breathless. "It's not a small sum."

Once again, the rebuttal went entirely ignored.

"Even if it was for something we tactically needed anyway. Even if Kawai waited day in and day out, asking hour on the hour: Has the courier arrived? Has the courier not yet come?" Standing still again, Hijikata quickly licked his lips and cocked his face before righting it. "Even when our own people came to me, begging and making demands to pardon him…expecting me to do only what our absent commander could."

Kondo shook his head, and though there was plenty he wanted to say, he finally relented and let Hijikata keep going without further counter.

"So Kawai goes through with it. Because he has to. Because those are our rules. And his seppuku is botched because Tani missed. Actually missed." A hand cut through the air. "Struck him right in the back, Kat-chan. You should've heard the mewl."

"Toshi," Kondo breathed, slowly approaching him. His hands began to lift, to reach toward the shoulders still laboriously undulating; however, before seeking purchase, they paused as he considered if contact was welcome now. How quickly he'd gone from inciting such a self-assured campaign of good intention to these humble defensive measures of defeat. "Tosh—"

"You say Gen-san explained things to you, but did he actually tell you the worst of it?" Hijikata neither leaned in nor recoiled at Kondo's advance. He did, however, raise his brows, nodding in rapid succession as his demeanor began to disintegrate further. "I don't even mean how the courier finally arrived less than two hours after, no. I'm talking how Kawai's father sent more than what was owed with a loving letter to his now-dead son. Did you hear that part, Kat-chan? How the letter explained that he was on business and that's why there was a delay? How he wrote how proud he was of him for being responsible and bringing honor to their family, how he hoped we—" His voice began to crack and his gaze pulled off to the side.

Hijikata drew a sharp inhale, clearly premature in forcing himself onward and yet he kept right at it. "We, his great and loyal friends, would continue...heh." His eyes closed, then squeezed, and his palms raised to cover them. Fingers were half-clenched in the air and the last words fell raw. "...taking care of him." A breathy laugh followed—coerced, strained, gruff.

At last, Kondo's touch fell upon Hijikata, large warm palms pressing to the cool skin of his elevated biceps and waiting for consent. Hijikata's arms fell and the fierceness within his gaze pierced straight through to Kondo's soul, sizing him up and sending a cascade of ripples along its celestial fabric. And then, it was as if his rationality had suddenly caught up to his emotions—that he realized where he was, and what he'd just divulged and in what way. "Was that the point of all this?!" Exasperation shaded his tone as he lashed out, his pupils shrinking. "This was really what you wanted?"

Hijikata hadn't meant that, and Kondo knew it…knew he was just working through his own feelings and retreating into his own deep-rooted defense mechanisms. Anyone would do so when backed into a corner. Still, even a frivolous insinuation that Kondo would ever actually want to see Hijikata break or suffer in any way caused heaviness to radiate from the center of his chest and filter outward. His breath caught with the ache of his heart, and all he could do was offer a vehement denial.

Kondo set his mouth in a line and adamantly shook his head. He focused on the absolute exhaustion before him—the mental and physical tolls, the hurt in those dark eyes—before slowly, imprudently reaching to Hijikata and trailing the back of his fingers down his cheek with a feather-light touch.

What began as a flinch eased into a waning of the anger and desperation radiating from Hijikata through the tenderness of Kondo's caress; despite that, he remained unmoving and cautious, as if he were looking for ulterior motives even when he knew none existed. A wounded tiger, indeed. But Kondo was aware, from spending over a decade with this man, what he wanted most of all right now. It was just a matter of finding out if he'd allow it.

Upon reaching the soft edge of Hijikata's jaw, his digits fell gently to the nearest shoulder, latching on before starting to coax him forward. Kondo fully expected another outburst, another scathing rant which he believed was more than deserved at this point; however, to his surprise, the action was permitted.

He didn't wait for a change of mind. Kondo's hand slipped to Hijikata's back and hauled him forth to eliminate the space separating them—so strongly and so close that he felt the lips which had just injured him press against his shoulder upon the impact. From there, Kondo wrapped his arms around the smaller frame and held tight with an overwhelming possession, as Hijikata slowly melted into him and hands lifted in kind to take to his haori.

This was the place Kondo had wanted them to get to upon initiating that first embrace…but not like this, or at the expense of discomfort or coercion. He'd wanted Hijikata to talk to him, so he could listen and support; certain that he could at least do that, his movements had started with a particular degree of confidence. Now, however, Kondo remained silent and stared into nothingness across the room.

He was no longer convinced that any of the comfort he was capable of providing would be enough to assuage and heal these kinds of wounds. Because it was just as Hijikata had said: Kondo hadn't known the full extent—and therefore couldn't possibly, genuinely, share in the immeasurable pain of consequence. He hadn't needed to stand helplessly by while an unthinkable situation and its many moving pieces unfurled to leave gashes and scars in its wake.

He couldn't even effectively pick up the damn pieces in the aftermath without making things worse. So he resolved to let his arms do the talking, let his body provide the consolation his lips could never. While the quietude hung heavy and the guilt weighed in deep, Kondo cupped the base of Hijikata's neck and once more leaned his cheek against neatly styled hair.

They stayed this way for a meaningless amount of time, until Kondo finally felt the grasp on his attire loosen, and the fabric subsequently giving way with the slack.

As he righted himself, Hijikata's gaze lifted to meet Kondo's, showing much softer eyes to match his voice. "That's what you didn't know, Kat-chan." He inhaled briefly and gave a tiny shrug. "Or, it's what I didn't want you to."

"Why."

A gentle half-sigh feathered across his sensitive skin. "For all the good this is doing you, or either of us."

Kondo swallowed, feeling his expression contort as he searched the distant dark edge of the room again. "No." Finally, he sought Hijikata's eyes again, the words coming forth barely above a whisper. "Why are you always protecting me like this?"

"How can you ask that? That's my job." Hijikata's chin fell with a strong nod rife with purpose. "It's my sworn duty and honor as your vice commander."

Pulling his mouth taut, Kondo's lashes fell for a moment and he thought to make an argument but let it go.

"Kat-chan, let's get one thing straight. I can't do what you do." There was a slight shake of Hijikata's head. "I couldn't pardon Kawai. It wasn't my role."

"But—"

"And I accept that. Along with the responsibility of enforcing our code, no matter the cost."

"Even when it's your hands always getting dirty," Kondo said, instead of asked.

"No matter the cost," Hijikata reiterated. He swallowed afterward and peered toward the shoji for a beat. "In the long run, nothing like that matters. As long as we keep going forward." There was another deliberate nod before his eyes found Kondo's again. "As long as you're still commander."

They stared at each other for several moments, and Kondo became of aware of how openly he was wearing his own emotions in that moment.

"Kat-chan…" Hijikata's voice was nearly breathless. "Don't you get it by now? Don't worry about me. All you need to do is keep leading as you are and let me take care of everything else."

What could he say to that? Nothing at all. It was proof that Hijikata had already come to terms with Kawai's fate. Of course, it hurt. Naturally, it wasn't easy. But he'd already justified it and what he needed most now was time to let his feelings settle, especially when surrounded by their own men who also were also in mourning. The best Kondo could do was offer his embrace as he was doing now, a trifle in comparison.

However, there was just one further question that gnawed at him and his brow furrowed further. "Toshi…" Kondo paused to lick his lips, his gaze falling as he considered his words. When his eyes lifted again, they were accompanied with a slight squint. "…What makes you think I would have pardoned Kawai?"

Hijikata huffed out of his nose. "What makes you think you wouldn't have?"

Once again, Kondo found himself speechless.