Disclaimer: all character rights belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Shueisha etc. This is a fictionalized account based in part on historical facts.
Meiji Keikan Romantan
* There are flashbacks and scene changes in this chapter. Dates and places are labeled at the beginning of each section. There are also references to manga volumes 2, 9 & 11, plus to CLT Chapter 8 (Letters from Edo) and Chapter 11 (Of Murder and Good Men).
Chapter 4 – The Follies of Youth
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= Meiji Year 11 (1878), early June – Tokyo, Bunkyo Ward =
Despite her personal misgivings, Fujita Tokio could not help but be entertained by the scene being reenacted for her benefit.
"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryū Ryūshōsen!" Eiji yelled at the top of his lungs and leapt with all his might, brandishing a bamboo cane as his prop sword. "Haaaa!" Landing a little clumsily, he regained his balance and turned towards Tokio. "And then, Senkaku went flying! Himura-san was so strong!"
Tokio nodded encouragingly at the boy. Eiji had recently begun to open up of his own accord about the events at Shingetsu-mura and she recognized that it was an important step towards healing. Although she felt slight pangs of uneasiness about Eiji's idolization of Himura Kenshin, she respected that it was only natural considering the circumstances.
Muku's eyes were riveted to the stick, her body tense with anticipation. Eiji grinned at the dog, and after a few teasing swings, he threw the cane to the other side of the garden.
"Oops!" He looked over his shoulder guiltily as it landed in the hydrangea bushes, Muku scrambling after it into the undergrowth.
"My garden will be destroyed between the pair of you." His guardian said in a stern voice, albeit with a twinkle in her eye.
"I'm sorry! I can do more garden work later." He shrugged apologetically.
"I'd appreciate that." Tokio checked that Tsutomu was still sleeping in his basket, then reset her loom and began weaving again, her hands and feet deftly working the machine. "Tell me what happened next."
Eiji approached the engawa and watched as the cotton threads fashioned a simple but bold striped pattern. Tokio's workroom opened up onto the garden, and it was a bright, pleasant place for her to do her sewing and such. The steady beat of the loom rang out as though keeping the tempo to a silent song.
"Fujita-san told me and the Weasel Girl – Misao – to come out and watch." Eiji noticed that Tokio smiled at the use of the nickname. She obviously had no issues with her husband's sense of humor. "I thought that Himura-san was going to fight against Shishio right there, but Shishio left, saying that he'd be waiting for him in Kyoto. Instead, Himura-san faced off against Seta Soujirō." A shiver ran up his spine as he recalled the moment.
"I see." Tokio had heard the story from her husband, but she tried to imagine it from Eiji's point of view.
"It was like a flash of lightning, and the next thing I knew, Himura-san's sword was broken…." It had happened so fast that his eyes had not been able to follow the action. "But Seta's sword was completely shattered too. Fujita-san said that it was a draw – and then Seta followed Shishio and got away." At the time, although he had been angry that Shishio had escaped, he had been too focused on Senkaku to really react to their departure. Now however, there were questions that plagued him about what he had witnessed.
"Tokio-san, what makes men like Senkaku, and Shishio and Seta, do the things they do?" His brow was furrowed in consternation, and his chest heaved at the memory of the men who were responsible for the deaths of his family.
"If I had the answer, I would be a much wiser person." Tokio sighed. "You could say that it's because they care only about their own desires and not at all about the pain of others. But I couldn't tell you why they are the way they are."
"Seta - he was almost scarier than the others. You know, both Shishio and Senkaku looked like villains, but Seta didn't look like a bad guy, and he was always smiling." Seta's hollow smile was one of the visions that haunted his nightmares. "How could you smile like that and do such horrible things?" He had no doubt that the young man had also carried out terrible deeds; he was certain that anyone who followed Shishio must be mad with evil.
Tokio considered her answer for a moment.
"Danna-sama said that there was something broken about that young man. Shishio and Senkaku, for all their maliciousness, still showed a variety of emotions. However, the normal range of human feelings seemed to be entirely lacking in him." She did not add that it was not all that unusual for people who had suffered severe trauma to shut down in similar ways; Eiji himself was at risk of taking a wrong turn.
"I wonder what it's like to not feel anything…." The boy spoke with such a cold look in his eye that Tokio stopped her work and sat down beside him. Muku came over also, looking hopeful that they would play with her.
"Sometimes, your heart hurts so much that you think it would be easier not to feel anything…." She took his small hand in hers and squeezed. "But I think the only thing that can really help to lighten the pain is to be kind to others, and to let others be kind to you."
Eiji squeezed her hand back – to tell her that he understood, and that he was grateful for her compassion. They sat in silence for a while, and Eiji forced down his anger by turning his thoughts to the man who had saved his life. After a few moments, he asked,
"What do you think Himura-san will do about his sword? The sakabatou was very rare, right?" Eiji did not know much about swords but he knew that much at least.
"Frankly, I don't know." She did not know of any smith who made such weapons; she had wondered where he had gotten one in the first place.
"Himura-san made a vow of 'korosazu'…." A worried look appeared on his face. "Do you think he'll be able to fight? I mean, I think Shishio Makoto and his men all deserve to die, but I don't want Himura-san to do something he's sworn against."
"Eiji-san, Himura-san is very strong, and if he is a man of true conviction, then he will find a way." Her voice was as gentle as it had ever been. "Have faith."
"Like you have faith in Fujita-san?" A cheeky tone entered the boy's voice. If there was one thing that he had learned since coming to live with the Fujitas, it was the absolute trust that Tokio had in her husband.
"Exactly," she stated confidently.
"I hope they got to Kyoto alright." He raised his eyes to the sky, as though he could see their figures in the shapes of the clouds.
"If I hear word, I'll let you know." She had promised to keep him apprised of developments. "The girl, Misao-san – you said she lives in Kyoto. I'm sure they'll be fine."
"Oh, the Weasel Girl was nuts! She wore the weirdest clothes, and kept kicking people in the head." He took on the airs of a disapproving elder.
"Eiji-san, that's no way to talk about somebody who helped you out so much." Tokio admonished him lightly, although she had a hard time picturing a girl who would behave in such a manner.
"Yes, sorry." Eiji looked up at her. "I told you before, why she was traveling to Tokyo and back on her own."
"I remember."
"It's crazy, isn't it? For a girl to be going all around the country, just to find someone?" He did not mean to sound judgmental, but he had no other way of expressing his half-admiration, half-envy at the older girl's audaciousness.
However, instead of agreeing with the boy, Tokio answered with a sympathetic air.
"Young people have their own important reasons for doing things, no matter that other people think them foolish." She gazed keenly at Eiji. "You too, you had your reasons for facing Senkaku, although you were aware of the dangers…." Eiji flushed at her words and looked away. "When you're young, there is no amount of advice that will stop you from making mistakes. And your mistakes will teach you more than any lessons learned from heeding other people's words."
"Even you, Tokio-san?" His foster mother, who was a picture of decorum, did not seem the type to make reckless choices.
"Especially me." She took her seat at her loom again, as his eyes widened in surprise at the admission. She chuckled softly and resumed her work. "In Aizu, we grew up with very strict rules. 'Naranu koto wa naranu – what must not be must not be.' And our parents and elders were extremely stubborn about what was proper. Even so, the heart will find a way to do what it wants." While her eyes were focused on the fabric before her, her mind conjured up images of her youth. "Do not be afraid to make mistakes. Fear only that you will not learn from them," she spoke almost to herself.
"What happens if you make a mistake that can't ever be set right?" Eiji asked seriously, petting Muku on the head as she tried to push the bamboo stick into his hand with her mouth.
"Then you can only strive to be strong enough to carry the weight of it for the rest of your life…." It was true that there were some regrets that could never be undone, and such burdens could crush the soul. "So Eiji-san, whenever you're about to make a life-defining decision, you must weigh it carefully: whether you will regret having done the thing more than you will regret not doing it."
"Pssht!" Eiji grimaced. "That's only if I have the time to think carefully!"
Tokio inclined her head in acknowledgement.
"That is true. So, you see that it is important to build up your strength of character in your every day life, so that even in a moment of confusion, you can trust your instincts to lead you right."
"Yes, Tokio-san." Eiji answered dutifully. "You make everything into a teachable moment, don't you?" He had noticed that about her, although he did not dislike it.
"I'm sorry – I've often been told that I'm preachy." She bowed apologetically in self-awareness at his observation. "And for what it's worth, I am guilty of doling out more advice than I can take myself."
"Hiroshi-Ojisan told me that I was only to listen to half the things you tell me to do." After their initial meeting, he had taken a shine to the gentleman from Aizu.
"And you shouldn't listen to anything he tells you to do." Tokio replied without batting an eyelid.
"If I asked him about your escapades, I'm sure he would tell me," Eiji grinned impishly. He wrestled the bamboo stick away from Muku who barked happily that he was paying her attention again.
"Well, Hiroshi-san doesn't know the half of it," Tokio murmured enigmatically.
"What was that?" Eiji blinked at the unexpected aside.
"What was what?" She smiled at him brightly. "Here, tell me what you think of this design."
"You're trying to change the subject!" Eiji declared. "I bet it has something to do with Fujita-san!" Eiji gleefully pointed his stick at Tokio and saw by the look on her face that he was right.
"Oh, are you sure you want to hear?" Tokio, however, knew how to turn the tables on the young boy. "About how we met and all that sappy, romantic stuff?"
"Aah, no, it's fine actually – I don't need to know." As she knew he would, Eiji balked at the hint of romance like most boys of his age. He threw the stick for Muku, who ran after it into the hydrangeas again. "Sorry! I don't know why it keeps landing in the bushes."
His foster mother sighed in resignation but with no short supply of affection. Within the space of a few weeks, she had grown to care immensely for her ward. It was a measure of her husband's humanity that he had chosen to bring the boy to her rather than to leave him at an orphanage; although he hid it under layers of cynicism and a seeming disinterest in the niceties of life, she knew better than anyone that he had a good heart. She smiled to herself as she imagined what his reaction might be if he knew that she had teased Eiji about how they had met – no doubt he would be annoyed and grumble at her not to tell the children unnecessary things. Yet, for all the youthful folly that their relationship entailed, it was something that they were both willing to stake their existence on for the rest of their years. For Makimachi Misao, and for the young woman called Kamiya Kaoru too, these would be the formative experiences of their lives. Her husband had told her that Kaoru had departed Tokyo, pursuing Himura Kenshin to Kyoto, and Misao had told Eiji about how she was trying to track down one Shinomori Aoshi. The fact that they had never met notwithstanding, Tokio knew exactly what it was that led the girls to act the way they did.
'Perchance they will be granted their own happy endings,' she thought wistfully as her thoughts drifted to Kyoto, where old wounds ran deep and the past still reared its ugly head. 'There are too few happy endings in this world….'
= Meiji Year 11 (1878), March – Tokyo, Bunkyo Ward =
"Fujita-san, you're home early today." A woman called out to Fujita Gorō just as he approached the gate of his house.
He stifled the immediate urge to growl at the sound of the voice, and instead forced out what his wife called his 'neighborhood smile'.
"Kobayashi-san, how do you do?" He turned and greeted the older woman walking towards him.
"Or should I say you're coming home very late. You've been away for the last couple of days." Kobayashi Haru, on her way back from the shops, caught up with the tall man in uniform.
"I dare say you're the only one besides my family who noticed." Fujita's nose twitched in irritation, although he maintained his benign facade.
"While you were gone, your wife had a few guests," Haru sniffed.
"Yes, I know." He was aware that Morinosuke had stayed over and Yamakawa Kenjirō had visited. "My brother-in-law likes to spend his days off at our house." In fact, Fujita had expressly informed Morinosuke that he would be gone, and Morinosuke had come to keep an eye on his sister and nephew.
"Well, just so long as it's alright with you." It was not so much the fact that she suspected any impropriety but rather, she merely wanted something to talk about. "But you know, wives should not be left alone for too long. Even if your relatives and friends are trustworthy, there are plenty of unsavory men in the world who would take advantage of a husband's absence."
Fujita inhaled slowly, mentally counting to ten as the reserves of his patience were stretched. At the back of his mind, he concurred that the woman's point had some merit; if a woman's dignity was compromised, no matter the circumstances, she was the one who was held at fault.
"I'm sure you must worry about her constantly." Haru continued, spurred by Fujita's lack of response. "And you know how people will talk – rumors can be vicious."
"The problem is that rumors and idiots feed off of each other, generating a self-perpetuating cycle." Fujita's 'neighborhood smile' slipped. "Unfortunately for me, there's no law against idiocy."
Haru was taken aback by the glimpse of Fujita Gorō's true nature, but just then, the gate was pushed open, saving the situation from increasing awkwardness.
"Okaerinasai-mase, Danna-sama." Tokio stepped out and bowed gracefully, carrying her son in her arms. "Kobayashi-san, good day to you. I hope he hasn't kept you out here talking for too long."
"No, I was just passing by." Haru said uncomfortably, as people do when they are caught in the act of talking about somebody behind their backs. "I should be getting home."
"Please do drop by another time." Tokio called out warmly to the older woman as she walked away hurriedly. Fujita gave his wife a perfunctory nod of his head, the unnatural expression having disappeared and his shoulders held stiffly as he walked inside the gate.
Inside the confines of his own home, the man let out a long sigh as he removed his gloves and stroked Muku's head as her tail wagged furiously. The dog had been waiting for him eagerly, having alerted her mistress to his arrival before he had even turned the corner of their street.
"Tokio," he addressed his wife, scowling. He knew that she had been about to open the gate for him when she had heard their neighbor's voice, and decided to listen in. "Go sprinkle some salt outside." It was the standard tradition of purifying the home and warding off evil.
"Come now, Kobayashi-san is hardly worth the waste." Tokio tried to stifle her laughter; she was more tolerant of her neighbor than her husband. "And she was quite right: wives should not be left alone for too long."
"So that was your idea of payback?" He arched an eyebrow as he detached his sword from his belt and removed his shoes.
"A little friendly conversation won't do you any harm." His wife smiled appreciatively at him; she knew that it was for his family's sake that he did his best not to antagonize their neighbors.
"Friendly conversation is overrated." Fujita muttered. "Though you stopped me from giving that hag any more grist for her rumor mill." He had been on the verge of snapping.
"I was afraid her grindstone might crack if I didn't step in," Tokio hid her mirth behind her sleeve.
"And, were there any unsavory men who tried to take advantage of my absence?" He handed her his sword and took Tsutomu (who had been reaching out for his father) from her.
"Plenty. Not including Morinosuke and Kenjirō-san who ate all the food in the house, there was the rice seller who tried to hike up the prices for the month, and Honda-san came looking for a donation to the 'district activities fund', oh and the owner of Seirindō Antiques wanted to see whether I was interested in selling anything in your collection." She tilted her head to look up at him, chuckling as he frowned darkly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease so. After all, you've been working hard."
"And you better not forget it." He tapped her forehead with his knuckles. "I've barely slept the last two days or had a decent bite to eat."
"Would you like a bath or your meal first?" She followed after him down the corridor.
"Bath." He made his way upstairs to their room to get changed out of his uniform. "Tsutomu can go in with me."
"Please don't try to drown him this time," Tokio called up after him.
"Ahou. I was teaching him how to swim." Her husband glared down the stairs, but his wife was already gone, having gone to prepare the hot water.
An hour or so later, in the early evening, Fujita felt almost fully refreshed as he enjoyed an after-dinner cigarette. He listened as Tokio told a story to their son, with a look of contentment that only those closest to him were ever permitted to see.
"And that is how Momotarō beat the ogres of Onigashima and won their treasure."
"If you ask me, Momotarō is a criminal who should be arrested for assault and theft." He blew a ring of smoke as Tokio glanced at him reproachfully for twisting an innocent folktale.
"And that is why you are not allowed to tell him stories."
"What are you talking about? Tsutomu likes my stories." Fujita reached out to ruffle his son's head. "Once upon a time, there was a hardworking policeman who was busy keeping the peace, solving murders and preventing terrorist plots. Why just yesterday, he was examining a corpse at an abandoned shrine –"
"Hajime-sama!" Tokio interrupted sharply.
"You usually like my stories too," he smirked at her. "Don't tell me you're not interested."
A brief staring match ensued until Tokio relented, for she saw that her husband was indeed tired from work.
"I laid out the futons if you'd like to rest," she offered by way of a truce.
"It's hardly sundown," he grumbled and stubbed out his cigarette.
"But you haven't slept – isn't that why you came home early?" She tried to coax him.
"This is fine for now." Before she had time to react, he stretched out on his side, laying his head in her lap and closing his eyes. "Stay like this for a while."
"Hajime-sama…." She said his name so tenderly now, and she was blushing at the proprietary nature of his action. This was about as unguarded as he allowed himself to act, a moment in which he submitted to the luxury of being indulged by his wife.
He heard her chuckle quietly and opened one eye. Off to the side, he saw that Tsutomu was copying him, curling up against Muku's stomach, giggling as the dog licked his face. It was a sight far removed from what he had been dealing with the last few days.
As though she guessed what was on his mind, Tokio sighed and spoke.
"So, did your plan go as expected?" She was aware that he had been covertly supervising the Kurogasa investigation.
"So you are interested," he stated smugly. Her reply was to brush her fingers across his brow.
"Was Himura Battousai able to prevent the assassination?" He could tell she was tense; she was probably wondering about the corpse that he had mentioned.
"Aah. And I was right – Kurogasa was Udō Jin'e." He closed his eyes again and shifted his head slightly on her lap. "After Battousai prevented him from killing Tani Jūsanrō, Udō lured the Battousai into a duel."
She placed a hand on his shoulder; he took it in his own and held it against his chest.
"So the body you mentioned…." She murmured haltingly as she entwined her fingers through his.
"Kurogasa." He heard her inhale sharply.
"Then that means that Himura Battousai – "
"It appears that Udō took his own life." He cut her off before she could finish the sentence.
"Oh!"
He opened his eyes again to see her staring at him in astonishment.
"According to the report made to the police yesterday, the Battousai incapacitated Udō but did not kill him. Instead, Udō stabbed himself rather than face capture."
"Do you believe it to be true?" Although Tokio might want to believe that Himura Battousai had changed, it was still a stretch to accept that he had taken a vow never to kill again.
Fujita did not answer, lying still, his gaze fixed on the waning moon rising over the garden wall. Tokio recalled that two nights ago, it had been full and bright, and it had hung low above the rooftops of the city. She had not slept well; Tsutomu had been fussing, either due to his father's absence or his mother's uneasiness.
"There was a witness." When he spoke again, there was a coolness to his voice that he normally reserved for the office. "Kamiya Kaoru."
"The young landlady?" Tokio lightly bit her lip. "Why was she present?"
"Kurogasa took her hostage. Used her as bait. The Battousai let the enemy gain leverage against him because he let him go the previous night."
As inscrutable as his expression was, she understood his moods as much as anybody could understand another person, and she could tell that he was more troubled than he would confess. Although they hardly ever discussed it, she knew that it was his worst fear that his enemies might try to use his wife and son against him.
She could feel the steady beat of his heart underneath the palm of her hand, and with her other hand she cradled his cheek.
"I would have thought that a man like Himura Battousai would do a better job of protecting those around him…." Fujita's occupation came with high risks, but for that reason he took many precautions to guarantee his family's safety. It was why he always made sure to leave no loose ends – his enemies could not harm them from beyond the grave.
"Hmph. Idiot girl, she went looking for trouble." He gave a derisive snort. "The Battousai went alone to look for Kurogasa, but she chased after him and was caught."
"Oh dear." Tokio frowned in alarm. "I hope she was not injured."
"Hah. She was lucky. But if she intends to keep company with the Battousai, she'd have better learned her lesson." He was unimpressed by what he perceived as a young woman's stupidity.
"Young ladies can be hopeless when it comes to making ill-advised decisions about men. You know that better than most." She said in a mild manner, but her words hit their mark.
"…. You were an idiot too." He replied gruffly after a pause, although he tightened his hold on her hand.
"You encouraged me." She smiled as she remembered the thrill of their early encounters.
"Ahou. I was trying to discourage you." His claim was not convincing.
"Oh, doesn't it make you cringe? The follies of our youth?" She laughed lightly. "To think about all the risks I took, just so I could spend a little time with you."
"Not to mention butting your nose into all of those affairs that were none of your concern." He could not completely mask the amused glint in his eyes. "But you were too smart for your own good. I'm not quite sure that's the case with this Kamiya girl."
"Maybe she should have known better, but I don't think she could have stopped herself." Tokio had a soft spot for unconventional women; her childhood friends were famous in her homeland for defying the orthodoxy. "The heart will find a way to do what it must."
"Which is why the Battousai should have killed Kurogasa on that first night, if he really cared for the safety of those around him." This was what had really rankled on his nerves, this so-called rurouni's vow and the unnecessary burdens that came with it.
"I understand." She did not disagree with her husband, knowing where he stood on the matter. "But surely, it's a measure of his skill that he was able to defeat the assassin without killing him." She held her husband's skeptical eye.
"Udō Jin'e might have been better than your two-bit swordsman, but he would have been no match for the Hitokiri Battousai in his prime." Udō had not even ranked at the executive level in the Shinsengumi.
"I take it Himura Battousai returned with Kamiya-san?" She steered the conversation back to the relationship between the former Hitokiri and the young dōjō mistress, which she found rather intriguing.
"For the time being." It remained to be seen how much longer Himura would stay there. "I won't go so far as to say he's taking advantage of a naïve fool, but she's a naïve fool."
"Well, it seems to me that they might have a lot in common." She tilted her head, creating the illusion that she was looking up at him. "From what you've told me, she's every bit the idealist that he is."
"Hmph. At least she has the excuse that she doesn't know any better." His lip curled in contempt. "The man I fought against wasn't such a fool."
"The man you fought against made a lot of mistakes in his youth…." Her voice trailed off as she thought back to those days in Kyoto; in Tokio's mind, he was fixed as the unfortunate assassin who had been exploited for his ideals.
"They're both going to get hurt if he continues to live the lie." Saitou, on the other hand, had fully come to terms with the duality that in order to protect, he had to kill.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you seem quite concerned." Tokio chuckled, even as she anticipated that her comment would irritate him.
"Tokio, you're awfully presumptuous today." He reached up to pinch her cheek.
He was not quite prepared when she leaned down and pressed her lips lightly against his; he let go immediately, and heard her whisper,
"I missed you."
He did not react right away, straining to maintain his composure in the face of his wife's forwardness. When he did speak, he casually continued talking as though nothing had happened.
"At any rate, in his current state, he won't be of any use on the Shishio operation. Ōkubo-kyō wants to wait a little longer to see how things play out, but there's only so much time left before we need to make our move."
"Kawaji-sama told you not to get directly involved," she murmured with a hint of resentment. She had enjoyed having the upper hand for all of a few moments.
"He told me not to get directly involved yet." He smirked at her, and she narrowed her eyes in disapproval. "Why do you look so worried?"
"Because I am worried." She sighed. "I know you're itching to settle your scores with him."
He did not deny it; aside from the fact that Himura Battousai was his deadliest foe from the Bakumatsu, he also wanted to prove the utter folly of his current way of life.
"I'm not going to kill him – we're going to use him." However, for appearances sake, he needed to couch it in terms of his professional duty.
"What if he refuses?"
"He agreed to fight Kurogasa, he won't refuse to fight Shishio Makoto, who's by far the greater threat." That had been another reason to set up the request through the local police chief, to see whether Himura Battousai would still be willing to wield his sword for the sake of the country.
"I'm sure Kamiya-san will not be pleased - she may try to stop him." If she had been willing to chase after him as he went to face Kurogasa, then she would certainly be unhappy if Himura Kenshin left for Kyoto.
"Hah. You think the Hitokiri Battousai would put the feelings of a girl before the fate of a nation?" He found the idea to be preposterous. "If she really wants to be with him, she's going to have to accept him for what he truly is, not just a rurouni's falsehood of who he says he is."
"And yet, he did not kill Kurogasa…." She reminded him. Intuition told her that the young lady's presence had something to do with that fact.
Saitou Hajime could not refute this, nor could he ignore it. In truth, Saitou was surprised that Himura Kenshin was still at the Kamiya dōjō; although he had discovered that Himura had stayed for a period of time in some other places, his interactions with Kamiya Kaoru, the boy Myōjin Yahiko and one Sagara Sanosuke appeared to indicate more than just a 'passing interest'. Perhaps his wife was right and he was underestimating the hold that the young girl had on the Battousai.
"What do you care about their relationship anyway?" Saitou asked Tokio, although it was a question that he was really asking himself.
"I just wonder what kind of woman the infamous Hitokiri Battousai might settle down with, that's all." She closed her eyes briefly as she replayed a brief exchange from over a decade ago, in which she had learned that the Battousai had been married and that his wife had been killed. The image of a cross-shaped scar bleeding onto fresh fallen snow was etched indelibly in her mind.
"Hmph. In any case, if she can't tolerate him fighting his battles, or tries to get in his way, she's completely wrong for him." He had learned to appreciate long ago that Tokio always supported him and never doubted his chosen path. "A woman can't force a man to stay, nor to return to her side."
"A man must make that choice himself." Tokio's smile stirred his mind. "But when you are young, you try so hard to make things go your way…."
"Speak for yourself." He turned his head, noting to himself that his wife's thighs made for quite a comfortable pillow. "I don't recall trying hard – you were the one making all the fuss."
"Oh, is that so?" Tokio's voice rose with a touch of indignation.
"I told you, you were an idiot too." His grin was positively wolfish.
"Perhaps I was – after all I married you." She tried to push him off her lap, but he would not budge. After some unsuccessful exertion, she gave up, laughing in defeat. "Sometimes, I don't know why I put up with you."
"Because there's nobody else you'd rather put up with." His eyes glowed amber in the soft light of the lantern.
"And you?" She asked teasingly as she looked down into his face. "Isn't it fortunate for you that I was willing to make some foolish decisions in my youth?"
He held her gaze for a while, and then closed his eyes.
"The best decisions you ever made." The statement caused her heart to skip a beat. "Things happen as they should, Tokio. Aren't you the one who told me so back then?"
It was true, she reflected. Of all the paths that she could have taken, she would not have chosen to be anywhere but here. She could not imagine the course of her life had she not fallen in love with Saitou Hajime, and she knew it was the same for him. The moment that they had met, although they could not have known it for what it was at the time, their fates had been set and irrevocably intertwined.
The sky let the last vestiges of light slip away and embraced the pale light of the moon.
"Tsutomu's fallen asleep." The child was curled up, breathing steadily, watched over by the faithful Muku.
"I should put him to bed." She was reluctant to get up and disrupt their current intimacy.
"Aah. And if you could bring out some saké, that'd be good." He looked up at her expectantly.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Morinosuke and Kenjirō-san were here last night, and they drank it all. I meant to go buy some more today but didn't have time…."
"Haaa? You let those idiots drink all the saké?" He sat up in irritation, and reached for his packet of cigarettes. "Who the hell do they think they are?"
"I'm very sorry, Hajime-sama." Tokio chuckled as she apologized. Only her younger brother and his friend would be foolhardy enough to do such a thing and risk her husband's ire.
"Tch! I guess I'll have to make do with you for tonight." He lit a cigarette and glanced at his wife. He smirked as she tried to disguise how flustered she was; it did not require much imagination to guess what was on his mind.
"I know I'm only a poor substitute for drink." She moved to pick up her son and carry him upstairs to his futon.
"Ahou."
"Yes, yes, I know." She turned to look at her husband before exiting the room. "After all, I haven't changed much since my youth."
When the woman who had been called the 'Flower of Aizu' smiled at him like that, Saitou Hajime had to agree.
= Meiji Year 11 (1878), early June – Kobe =
It was, and there was no other word for it, a massacre.
"Lieutenant Inspector Fujita, here is the report of the available testimony."
A junior officer handed Fujita Gorō a few flimsy sheets of paper. The details were sparse. In the dead of night, the entire unit had been wiped out and the perpetrator had made his escape long before the attack was discovered. Police compounds were supposed to be secure and guards kept watch around the clock, but those guards had been killed all too easily. Fujita knew full well that there were certain operators who were trained to infiltrate heavily guarded areas under cover of darkness, both for espionage and for assassination purposes (the Oniwaban and other types of shinobi came to mind). However, such missions usually had a specific target and were carried out with precision. What made this case extraordinary was the wanton carnage that had unfolded, and the fact that it had been carried out by just one man – Fujita was certain of that after examining the corpses.
The first few had been killed in their sleep; the assassin had masterfully hidden his approach. The next few seemed to have woken up, but not had time to reach their weapons. The others though, they should have done better. Fujita kept a tight rein over his emotions as he counted the number of men who had been able to draw their swords. Over three-fifths of the group had fought, and died.
Fujita checked the watch logbooks; according to the officer's notes, there had been nothing out of the ordinary at midnight. The guards were scheduled to change two hours later, and that was when the alarm had been raised. Under two hours to slaughter over fifty well-trained men. Whatever about the rank-and-file policemen, it was no mean feat to slay fifty of the best swordsmen that the military and police force boasted. He lit up a cigarette as he put down the report.
Until recently, he could have counted on one hand the number of people he knew who had the skills to carry out such a thing: aside from Okita Souji and Sagawa Kanbei who were deceased, there was Nagakura Shinpachi, Himura Kenshin, and himself. That had been before he met Shishio Makoto and Seta Soujirō at Shingetsu-mura. 'How many men in Shishio's organization are capable of doing this?' He contemplated the question with an uncommon exhilaration, exhilaration that battles like this could still be fought in the Meiji era.
Fujita did not dislike peace – far from it, he wished for nothing but peace for his family. However, Fujita was too cognizant of the truth about human nature to harbor any illusions; humans were imperfect and therefore would breed conflict. There was no shortage of threats, no matter what the age, and when it came to it, he would never hesitate to fight. Nor did he delude himself or anyone else that he disliked the battle; on the contrary, he embraced the urge to engage in combat. It was an inherent paradox that there were few things as satisfying as striking down those who spread violence and destruction.
Aku. Soku. Zan. Despite what others might think, since joining the Shinsengumi, he had never wielded his sword selfishly or for personal gain. He took pride in his abilities but his abilities were not something he needed to prove. The unrelenting adherence to the Shinsengumi code of conduct formed the core of his philosophy and built a path for him to follow even during the darkest of times. He had been fortunate: he had learned from the mistakes of his youth, and found a cause worth upholding to the end of his days, and a woman who would stay by his side through it all.
= Ganji Year 1 (1864), March – Kyoto =
There were only a few people who were capable of sneaking up on Saitou Hajime, and of those few, there was only one who actively went out of his way to annoy him.
"Whatcha got there?" Okita's voice came from right behind him, and caused Saitou to crush the letter in his hand.
"Courier just dropped off a letter." Saitou casually tucked the papers away, maintaining a veneer of nonchalance.
"Hmmm?" Okita peered up at him curiously. "From a woman?"
"From Edo." Saitou answered in a bored tone, hoping that he would lose interest.
"From a woman in Edo?" Okita grinned. "You've been receiving a few letters these last months."
"No more than you receive from your sister." Saitou glared at Okita.
"Ah, but you wouldn't catch me waiting by the gates for a letter from her." There was pure mischief in his voice.
"I wasn't waiting – it was just coincidence." Saitou ducked under the gates of the Maekawa estate, irritated at himself for being caught, and irritated at Okita because Okita was being irritating. "I was coming back from the sword dealer."
It was not an outright lie, for he had paid a visit to the dealer earlier, but it was not by chance that he had been watching for the courier's arrival. Nobody in the Shinsengumi was boorish enough to read another man's personal correspondence, but Okita was meddlesome (as were a few others). They were particularly meddlesome about Saitou, who carefully protected his privacy despite the communal arrangement of their living situation.
The comment about the sword dealer did what Saitou intended however, and distracted Okita.
"Did you find anything good?" It was one subject that they could converse easily about, and Saitou was regarded as having a keen eye for quality.
"There was one – the origin is unknown but it was made in the style of 'kotetsu'."
They talked as they walked towards the main hall, where they were due to hold their weekly meeting.
"Are you going to buy it?" Okita knew that it was not a decision to be made lightly.
"I'll need to ask Hijikata-san for a considerable advance on my pay." Saitou exhaled sharply, thinking about the extra work he would be made to do for it.
"Didn't you ask your family for money? Isn't that what the letter is about?" The question sounded innocent enough, but it made the hair on the back of Saitou's neck prickle; if Okita discovered who was really writing to Saitou, he would never give him a moment's peace.
"Hmph. I'm a second son. My family is not so well-off as to have money to spare on me." There was no bitterness in his words; his older brother Hiroaki was doing his best to support their parents, and he had been generous enough when they had parted. Besides, he had left behind the Yamaguchi name when he had come to Kyoto.
"But you need a new sword." Okita nodded concernedly. "The one you have now could snap at any moment. You can't go on patrol with that."
The sword Saitou had been using was a blade of decent quality. However, due to the extreme stresses that its wielder had been placing on it, it had come to a breaking point.
"I'll talk to Hijikata-san." The furrow in Saitou's brow deepened; it was a necessary expense, but it still seemed extravagant.
"He'll lend you the money; he and Kondō-san were just talking the other day about how every executive member should have a sword of note, preferably a 'wazamono' or above."
Saitou snorted; ever since Kondō Isami had come into possession of a 'Nagasone Kotetsu', it had become a frequent topic of discussion.
"I didn't think I'd need a new sword after only a year in Kyoto." Saitou almost sounded sentimental; a samurai's sword was his soul, and he was attached to it more than anything else in his possession.
"Haha, it just shows how much you've been abusing it." Okita chuckled darkly. "A regular blade simply isn't as bloodthirsty as you."
There was some truth to Okita's jest. Whereas people were equally divided as to who was the strongest in the Shinsengumi(Okita, Nagakura or Saitou), in terms of raw numbers, the deadliest out of the three was Saitou. It was not a matter of commitment or hesitation on the part of Okita and Nagakura, but perhaps it was a matter of disposition. 'They simply aren't as bloodthirsty.' Saitou had overheard the comment several times; it did not bother him as much as it might have done another person.
"I do what needs to be done," Saitou brushed off Okita's jibe.
"As you should," Okita sighed wistfully. "Though sometimes, it's difficult."
"Are you still fretting over Noguchi?" Saitou fixed him with an exasperated glare, referring to a member who had recently been made to commit seppuku for violating the Shinsengumi Charter. Noguchi had gotten drunk, then been involved in a personal fight, and had fled when he was wounded; it was conduct unbecoming of a samurai and the sentence had been swift.
"Yeah, well, we were the same age, and we went drinking a couple of times." Okita sat down on the engawa of the main hall and scratched his ear. "Pity that he couldn't hold it together." Okita had acted as the kaishaku, swiftly beheading the man a mere second after the ceremonial knife had pierced his belly.
"Are you saying you regret having to do your duty?" Saitou was surprised that Okita might be feeling disillusioned.
"No, not my duty." Okita shook his head. "It's the actions of other men that make me feel sorry."
Saitou leaned against a wooden pillar and folded his arms. They both understood the need for the rigid discipline; the Shinsengumi were a group of upstarts, whose only attribute was their talent in the martial arts, and in order to prevent anarchy and ensure full commitment within the organization, harsh rules must be implemented. However, they were only men in the end – and men will make mistakes.
"Saitou-san, have you ever regretted killing someone?" Okita asked his comrade bluntly in a low voice.
It was oddly quiet for that time of day. The Maekawa compound was usually a hub of activity, with the various members going to and fro, but at that moment, they were the only two around. A plum tree blossomed in the courtyard, adding a splash of color to the grey spring morning. Okita's eyes traced the gnarled branches while he waited for Saitou to answer, half-expecting him to keep silent.
"I don't know that regret is the right word." When Saitou did speak, his voice sounded unusually young. "I killed a man that I shouldn't have."
"What happened?" Okita turned towards him; it was rare that Saitou opened up about himself.
"It was a stupid incident – I was challenged by a hatamoto to a duel, shinkenshoubu, and I won." Saitou placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Is that why you left Edo?" Okita was studying him with renewed interest. A personal duel with a hatamoto was a serious thing; he was surprised that Saitou had not been ordered to commit seppuku.
"It was the least inconvenient option." Saitou drawled. He did not go into the details; Okita was already aware that Aizu retainer Takagi Kojūrō had sponsored Saitou's entry into the Roushi Gumi at their inception. "Though I'm sure the man's family are wishing I'd hurry up and die in the line of duty."
"So, how do you feel about it?" Okita was genuinely curious; although they had grown to know each other well over the past year, Saitou still gave off an air of aloofness.
"The man didn't deserve to die, I realize that now. And if I were to kill all the idiots in the world, the human race would die out fairly quickly." The corner of Saitou's mouth twitched in a half-smirk. "But regret is a waste of emotion. After all, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for that mistake. And I don't regret coming here."
"Is that so?" Okita smile returned. For some reason, confiding in Saitou and having Saitou confide in him made him feel better.
"You're not responsible for the stupidity of other men." Saitou stated brusquely.
"Of course." Okita straightened up. "Even if it is frustrating. But you're right, there's no room for regret when it comes to the Shinsengumi."
"There are a lot worse things that one could aspire to." Saitou said matter-of-factly, and Okita concurred.
In order to rise above their humble beginnings, the Shinsengumi needed to be absolutely dedicated to bushidō. It was the very first article in the charter:
It is forbidden to deviate from the way of the samurai.
The rest of the rules all stemmed from this foundation. Although the philosophy appeared simple, it was deceptively difficult to see through – for those who did not hold it in their heart of hearts, if they let down their guard for even one moment, the consequences could be fatal.
'To be true samurai': it was the ideal of Kondō Isami and Hijikata Toshizō, and what they always strived to be. It was an ideal that all who followed them shared. A true samurai must not wield his sword for personal reasons, but only in service to his lord and country. If he must kill, he must kill to protect the peace, and if he must be killed, he must find honor in death.
"These things happen as they should, or so I've been told." Saitou watched as some members arrived at the main hall. "Even folly has a purpose."
"Sheesh, Saitou-san. Who'd have pegged you for a philosopher?" Okita chuckled as Saitou raised an eyebrow at his comment.
"Okita-kun, Saitou-kun," Nagakura Shinpachi greeted them as he approached with Harada Sanosuke. "Ready for the meeting?"
"Okita, look, I got a letter from that geisha we met the last time in Gion." Harada waved a sheet of paper under Okita's nose.
"Good for you, Harada-san. After you spent your entire month's salary there, at least you have something to show for it." Okita laughed, the mischievous tone back in his voice.
"Why you little-!" Harada's hand grasped thin air where Okita's head had been just a second ago.
"Oh, but Saitou-san also received a letter." Okita ducked away and diverted the subject, much to Saitou's annoyance.
"What?!" Harada and Nagakura both turned towards him, their eyes shining with the anticipation of sport.
"Ahou. I told you it was just from Edo." Saitou snorted. 'From Edo' typically implied 'from family', and Harada and Nagakura gave a 'tsk' of disappointment. "You might as well ask Okita what his sister wrote to him."
"Yeah yeah, Mitsu-san is about the only woman who'd write to you, Okita," Harada cackled.
"Not true. Takagi Tokio-san of Aizu wrote to me at the beginning of the year."
As Harada stared in disbelief, Saitou felt his stomach lurch at Okita's declaration. It was an utterly unfamiliar and disconcerting sensation.
"If you're referring to the New Year's message that Kondō-san received on behalf of the entire group," Nagakura cut in before Okita could embellish the facts.
"Yes, well she mentioned me by name." Okita stuck out his chin.
"She mentioned me also." Nagakura patted the younger man smugly on the back.
"What? Did she say anything about me?" Harada looked from one to the other, and slumped his shoulders when he received no reply. "Haa. I guess you and me are beneath the notice of the 'Flower of Aizu', eh Saitou?"
"Don't lump me together with you, Harada-san." Saitou rose up to his full height and looked down dismissively at Harada, before stepping inside the main hall. He could not let it be seen that for a moment, he had almost lost his composure.
He took his seat, the epitome of cool detachment, but all the while the letter hidden inside his kimono seemed to burn against his chest. Takagi Tokio's guileless letters stirred him more than a geisha's practiced flattery ever could. He could hear Harada continuing to boast about the number of women who were now seeking his favor. Women and swords: besides their work, those were the two most popular topics of discussion among the members. Saitou was not inclined towards small talk, but even if he did not actively seek out company, he conceded that he was grateful for the camaraderie extended to him. The Shinsengumi had given him a place to call his own, and although he was not the most sociable of men, neither was he made of stone. He acknowledged the satisfaction of being understood and accepted among those who shared his goals and outlook on life. And although it might be youthful folly, he could not pretend that he was indifferent to the honest emotions of a young lady who unreservedly shared her frank opinions and supported him wholeheartedly. She had chosen to trust him, to care about him - him and not Okita Souji, not Nagakura Shinpachi, nor any other. She was writing to him and not somebody else. It pleased him more than he would have ever imagined.
Just over a year had passed since Saitou Hajime and the other members of the Shinsengumi had arrived in Kyoto. Mistakes had been made, lessons had been learned, and they were that much stronger and wiser for it. Their greatest challenges still lay ahead, but they would not lose sight of what they stood for or what they fought for. They would soon come to be known as the greatest and fiercest (some said most dangerous) group of samurai in Kyoto. However, they were also young men like most others.
"Before we begin the meeting, I have a personal issue to address." A vein was throbbing on Hijikata's brow and his eyelid twitched. "Who's the imbecile who took my book of haiku and used it as waste paper for the toilet?"
A wave of murmurs and snickers swept the hall.
"Was that what it was? I thought it was a good idea – a read and wipe kinda thing."
"The haiku was pretty bad though."
"Silence!" The handsome vice-commander's face was twisted in fury. "Souji! Harada! I know it was one of you!"
"Hey! Why do you always try to put the blame on us!" Harada objected.
"Yeah! You were the one who told me to restock the paper." Okita argued.
"So it was you Souji!"
"I don't know why you're so mad – I was able to find a constructive use for your terrible poetry!"
Okita delivered the parting shot as he fled Hijikata's wrath. Raucous laughter filled the air as Hijikata struggled to maintain his dignity, and then gave up, giving chase to the wayward young captain. Saitou found himself laughing also, although at the back of his mind, he thought, 'this is why the Shinsengumi Charter is so strict'; without it, the organization was liable to descend into chaos.
= Meiji Year 11 (1878), early June – Kyoto =
Kyoto, the Thousand-Year Capital, which had held the cultural and religious heart of Japan for over a millennia – renowned for the elegance of its seasons, the word 'refinement' suited it more than any other place in the country. However, behind its beautiful façade, since ancient times it was deemed a demon's city where evil spirits wandered the streets, giving rise to disease, famine, and many wars. During the upheaval of the Bakumatsu, there was not a day that bloody mist did not rise, that heads did not roll – a battleground resembling a landscape in hell.
The man once known as Saitou Hajime had spent his formative years here, and they defined him as a samurai. Although he wore a different uniform and was called by a different name, there was no hiding his true nature; he remained the Wolf of Mibu. It had been a long time since he had prowled the streets for prey, but now, he would hunt again.
Feelings of nostalgia flooded his mind; nevertheless, he could not allow himself to wallow in sentimentality, and he would not lose sight of the issue at hand. His carriage pulled up at the entrance to the Kyoto Police Headquarters, and he stepped out into the evening. The air was muggy and there was hardly any breeze, an indicator of the heavy rains to come and the hot summer that would follow. His arrival was announced and the station chief came out to greet him.
"Thank you for coming a long way. You were much later than we expected so I was beginning to worry."
"There was an incident…." Between his detour at Shingetsu-mura as well as the attack in Kobe, his arrival in Kyoto had been postponed by over a week. "Chief, the swordsman from Shishio's organization that you arrested…"
"Yes, his cell is at the very end." The man gestured as they walked down the hallway through the jail. "Ah, wait a moment, Fujita-kun. Before that, could I ask you to take care of a small problem?" He indicated a cell further down. "A week ago, a man caused a huge fight in town and we took him in, but since then, he's refused to leave and we're at a loss as to what to do with him. Can you do something about him?"
Fujita had already guessed that there was somebody there, and he even had an inkling as to who it was.
"Hehe. Just as I thought." The police officer's suspicions were confirmed as he heard the voice. "Instead of blundering around searching, it was better to trouble the police and get ahold of you first. Quickest way I could think of to find Kenshin."
"So it's you." Fujita narrowed his eyes as he regarded the young man sitting cross-legged on the bench with a brazen look in his eye.
"Yeah. Sagara Sanosuke has arrived in Kyoto!"
Another young fool had come to make his mark in the city; Fujita suppressed a smirk at the foolhardiness of Himura Kenshin's hotheaded friend. Was he amused or annoyed? He could not make up his mind; their last meeting in Tokyo had been entertaining enough. It remained to be seen whether Sagara had heeded his advice about improving his defensive abilities, but Fujita would acknowledge that he at least had guts. He also had a sense of shame that he had been treated as a weakness.
In his mind, he could hear Tokio's voice.
"When you are young, you try so hard to make things go your way…."
What did it matter to him if Sagara had come to throw his life away? Or perhaps he would be surprised again; the Battousai had some degree of respect for the youth, despite his idiocy, after all.
'Things happen as they should,' Fujita mused to himself, 'and even folly has a purpose'.
While he might never have been as foolish as Sagara Sanosuke, he understood better than most that there were some follies that were worth every risk.
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Author's Notes: cultural and reference notes as usual on the MKR blog - go to profile page.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart to all the readers who have added this story to their Favorites list, and to all the kind reviewers who took the time to reach out. There were a few guest reviews and some people who do not allow PMs so I'd like to take this opportunity to say to them, your opinions and support give me so much encouragement. A very special thanks to Vanessa for proofreading and letting me bounce ideas.
The title and theme of the chapter came about because I was talking to a girl I mentor about not being afraid to make mistakes. We are a product of our failures just as much as our successes - and everyone in RK has had to learn important lessons in their youth. Re-reading over CLT, it struck me that the way Tokio and Saitou acted was realistic enough if you consider that they were still teenagers - but had they met when they were older, things would have played out quite differently. I did my fair share of sneaking around while pretending to be a 'good girl' when I was that age! And yes, it makes me cringe, but it also makes me nostalgic for the days when I didn't know any better. And with Sano's appearance at the end, hey, we all know what Saitou thinks of Sano, right? I'm looking forward to writing a little more Sano/Saitou interactions.
The story is moving slowly, and I regret that it is entirely due to my selfish desire to fill in the episodes from the past. I still love the Shinsengumi, and I still enjoy writing about them. I hope Shinsengumi fans will indulge me as I take liberties with these characters. As always, I worry that people won't accept my portrayal of Saitou; I beg you to read with an open mind, taking into consideration that he was never quite the loner that you might assume from his character. From the next chapter on, I have to face the challenge of writing the Kenshin-gumi and to be honest, it makes me sweat nervously. However, I can only my best and keep my fingers crossed that readers will be entertained.
A big thank you to everyone who's following the Meiji Keikan Romantan tumblr: Eeni has posted up to Chapter 4 of the CLT doujinshi and is currently working on Chapter 5. We have a lot of fun fangirling and even just her doodles are enough to make me squeal in delight. Also, Tokio and Saitou on 'Yae no Sakura' are fueling all sorts of new fantasies. The series is incredible but unfortunately not dubbed - I am posting recaps and highlights on the blog.