A/N: Heeeeeeeeeeey everyone. I...I live. I do. I am alive. So much SHIT happened in my life so...yeah...this was a very late update. So sorry. Love you all and hope at least one person is still here.

By the way, if anyone wants to talk about the new anime, I hear you. Hate Watsuki, love the characters.

Title: Misses Brightside
Genre: Romance, angst, historical
Alternative Universe: Historically Accurate, with emphasis on history


"My lord..."

"Ah, Fujita-san, please come inside." He gestured for him to come closer. "Tell me, what do you need?"

It had taken a lot out of Saitou Hajime to make the trip to the man's office. He was still bleeding, but he moved around; under any other circumstances, especially when he was still a Shinsengumi man, he would even fight with such a wound. He'd bandage it right up, applying a little more pressure than needed not to bleed too much and jump right into the fray, or simply cauterize it. Of course, back then, the amount of men they had at their disposal was finite and he fought for something he believed in. Now, there were ten to take his place even if none as skilled as him, and he fought just so he could feel less useless.

It still felt humiliating.

There in the room, as he entered, he saw the man was in the middle of dictating a letter, hands behind his back, while Tokio had halted her hand and carefully removed it from the paper, to save it from any drips. She was sitting in front of the writing station, currently looking up at him, quite expectantly.

"I wish to speak to you about the next deployment."

"I see; do you want me to send Tokio away?"

"She can stay," he assured and went close enough to be respectful. She'd find out anyway, he was tempted to supply.

"Then, please, speak."

He took a deep, bracing breath which everyone noticed. "I would like to withdraw my name from the next draft."

"Oh," the older man sighed a sigh of relief; he waved Saitou away "naturally. The doctor that looked at you did advise me to take you off of active duty for a while."

That was news to him.

"A month at best, he'd said, but Tokio informed me just yesterday that your improvement, albeit steady, was not significant; I cannot allow you to leave in such condition. Your presence on the battlefield is important, yes, which is why we need you at your best. Please take all the time that you need."

He almost blinked owlishly. That went...too well. His eyes darted to Tokio, who beamed at him. Ugh, why. "Thank you, my lord," a bow "for your sympathy and lenience."

"What lenience?" the lord laughed. "It's only natural to wait for our wounds to heal before going into battle. Speak none of it again."

Saitou took a proper bow this once. "Thank you, again. That was all I needed to say. I shall be taking my leave."

"Tokio dear, we too are finished;" he sighed, troubled "I cannot think of anything else for now. Why don't you go stretch your legs around the gardens?"

"As you wish," she simply said and stood a little too eager.

Saitou didn't fail to catch that; he also hoped she wouldn't follow him...but no such luck. And she had that expression of glee on her face, it was ridiculous. Great, now she'd think it was because of her that he, finally, a week later, went and spoke to the lord about this. And she had the chance to throw it in his face.

"I want you to know, he asked me of your condition himself, I didn't go to him on my own." Her smile only became wider. "I am not saying I wouldn't have, but I can assure you, he came to me first. He cares about your health."

He snorted. "He cares for his success more," at her scolding glare, he had to break a smirk "but I too think he also cares for my health a little."

"A lot!"

"That's just you."

He'd said it to be scathing or teasing, but then he realised exactly what came out of his mouth and he had to stop and think for a second. He...said it, thus thought it. So, did that mean he really believed it or was it just stupid wishful thinking? But he did say the words out loud, how shameful. And yet, judging by her reaction, she appeared to be pleased. Numb at first, taken aback by the comment, slowly she averted her eyes, but her smile took over her entire face. By the time it sank in for the both of them, she was a giddy mess while he wanted to bury his head in the dirt.

How shameful indeed.

"Will you not accompany me for a walk?" she asked, disappointed, when she saw him take another corridor.

"Have to train."

"But you're hurt!"

"The spirit needs training, too."

"So no physical activity."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I promise; no sword or limb will be used."

"That is acceptable." She was satisfied. "Have a pleasant afternoon."

The moment he disappeared at the turn, she sighed. A swirl of positive emotions made her insides mush and she almost radiated light. He was making an effort. He took her advice and decided to try and mend the chaos that was his heart, mind, body and soul. And she wholeheartedly believed in him; he was a capable man. He could most definitely do it. With that thought, she made her way to her friends, who'd she been separated from an hour ago, to tend to her duties with the lord.

.

"I don't believe I'm about to say this, but...you were right."

So high her eyebrows rose, they were lost in her bangs. "And what, pray tell, led you to this brilliant, albeit rare, conclusion?"

"I don't actually feel stabbing pain every time I move, I guess," he answered surprisingly honestly, despite shooting her a healthy dose of side-eye before doing so. "So used to it I was, I almost thought it was normal."

This earned him a jab at his sides by the tip of her longbow. "That is a terrible admission to make," she deadpanned; he shrugged in return, uncaring. She had to shake her head. "Should we cut our session short tonight, maybe?"

"I did not tell you so I can get out of something I suggested we recommenced myself," he snapped, nearly offended by her offer.

She was confused. "Then why...? Are you—are you honestly making conversation with me?" Colour her impressed! His eye roll was impressive, too though and she couldn't help the small laugh. "I am happy you told me; also, I don't know if it has to do with our new regime, but I too feel a little bit of pain" she pointed at her bicep "but not too often."

"That's because you lack exercise your highness," he snubbed "you should do the ones I showed you. But I can tell you've been skimping. So now that we've started with the bow again, your arms are complaining."

"...haven't been skimping too much," she complained, a little quiet.

"Just do as I showed you, once a day; it's only fifteen minutes of your time."

"My time is valuable," she retorted but even quieter this once; he still caught it and directed his judgmental stare towards her. "Well, it is."

"So is mine, but here I am..." He shook his head. "If you're not serious about this, we can just stop."

"No! I never said I—...you're so stubborn."

"That's rich, coming from you."

The way she pursed her lips reminded him of Teruhime so strongly in that moment, he did a double take. He blinked, tried to shake it off mentally and persevered, by not breaking his glare.

"Just go back to your bow, Tokio-sama."

Every hair on her body stood straight at the honorific and the tone. "I've told you a thousand times, I hate it when people call me that!"

"Tough; get on with it. We don't have all day."

She started murmuring under her breath as she effectively still did as she was told and he had to admire the obedience hardwired into this person that despite the spirit and the absolute pigheadedness she displayed, she still did as she was told. Then again, for a woman, she was definitely opinionated. Hmm, scratch that; even for a man, she was too opinionated.

He watched her breaking a sweat nonchalant, correcting her form here and there, as he let his mind wander towards other times; more difficult, but surprisingly happier times. Where instead of Tokio, he would instruct a team of young men on how to hold spears; they would grumble and murmur about the strict training regime, but do it all the same, because their lives depended on it. He would get flashes of memory of his friends arguing with him, much like she was prone to doing, for no reason whatsoever rather than throwing words or fists around. Hell, arguing was their favourite work out. Especially Harada, who liked to always be the best, even if he was decidedly not and no one would let him live it down. Or how Okita would insist on something and he'd have to show you how you were wrong and albeit short, he could bring almost everyone to their knees. Even Nagakura, the oldest one, would get caught in silly fights when they pushed the right buttons. His life was a never-ending scuffle, either enemy or "friendly" fire.

And now he had this watered-down, lukewarm version of a fight that he couldn't even join anymore.

He hated to admit though, Tokio was the only one who made his temper rise in that annoyed yet in the end welcome way, as his comrades would once. He heaved a heavy sigh as he corrected her stance and he must have been quite loud, because he noticed the woman turn red up to her ears and become completely stiff, not taking his direction when he moved her arms.

"I'm sorry, I suppose my body is nearly as sharp as my mind today..." she tried to defend herself and he snorted.

"Or tongue." He wasn't being fair to her, he knew, because the sigh wasn't directed at her, not really. It had to do with all that he could have been doing or he had been doing and he could or would never do again. "Just try not to lower your elbow." She nodded. "You do this right and I'll treat you to something, how about that?" Her eyes lit up; huh. She was really simple to please, dully noted.

"I like sweets more than savory, just so you know."

"I can tell." His eyes descended to her thighs; he didn't miss the sharp intake of breath from her and he prepared himself for a strike, just in case. "But sweet it is. We'll be going to the market later today anyway."

.

.

"Tokio-san, Fujita-san, welcome back."

They'd just finished putting away all the supplies they'd purchased earlier that afternoon; in fact, they had only just stepped inside the women's quarters. Now that he wasn't supposed to leave for such a long time, he had taken over the duty of guard dog for her highness once again and wherever she went, so did he, barring the baths. So, he had followed her to her destination, belly full with half the sweets he'd bought for her, after guilting her into it by more snide remarks about her figure. Actually, he had no issues with the way she looked, but he did enjoy torturing her, it was a small – and petty – victory over the usually strong-minded woman.

"We're back," she let out as she plopped herself on a pillow, feeling quite exhausted.

And he couldn't blame her; she had been training with him early morning, then did her logistic duties, went to the market after that, put everything diligently away and now she had to socialise.

"How was your day?"

"Full!"

Giggles spread around at that. There were ten women in there, the nine from Aizu, the one from Kobe. The rest of the women had already been married off; these were the ones who were left. And of course, the two of them. Ugh. He already needed a sake cup. Their conversation had already started becoming a never-ending buzz; he had lost sense of time so he didn't know how long he'd been staring at the wall when his ears perked up and he hyper-focused on a question that was thrown way too casually.

"What were the Shinsengumi men like, Tokio-san?"

He didn't fail to hide his sudden interest but it was there nonetheless. Before he knew it, he was listening closely to the silence and even if he hadn't dared look directly at her, he could picture Tokio's thoughtful expression. He swallowed as less visibly as he could and pretended to be uninterested when he finally raised his head to the woman. He noticed how her eyes had momentarily darted to him, but it was too fleeting for anyone else to see.

"I didn't meet every single one of them, naturally; only the captains, the vice-commander and their leaders." Ooohs and aahs were spread across the room. "They were...extremely capable." She had a look of exasperation on her face. "Hijikata was so manipulative though," she shook her head "he could buy and sell you for a profit. He was exceedingly smart and scheming. That man had back up plans for his back up plans. He was frighteningly well-prepared." She considered. "But then, I suppose, that was how they managed to come into existence on the first place. Kyoto was so cutthroat at that time."

"Was he handsome?"

"Who—Hijikata?" The women nodded excitedly; Tokio laughed. "Quite. Must have been the most handsome man I have ever seen...still wouldn't want to be married to him for all the money in the world."

"Who was marrying-material then?"

"Oh, Harada-san, definitely; in fact, he did get married at some point...!" Her excitement seemed to die out quickly though. "Died for her, in a fight; left the Shinsengumi to better protect her. Lost his life a few months later." She looked to the side. "The wife followed sometime next year."

"H, how about the nicest one?"

"Hm...I'd have to say Okita-san. So pleasant and conversational at all times; he made you feel included no matter who you were. He had a talent for it! I always enjoyed talking or just listening to him."

"Where is he now?"

She tried to speak, stopped, then spoke with her smile fading a little. "He died before the fighting was over; illness overtook him before a sword could."

"Oh, that's regrettable..."

Tokio gave a soft smile to the woman who'd said that, but she tried to look at Hajime, as imperceptibly as she could, although she didn't manage. This might have been the worst topic for the women to bring up in light of recent events in his life, but there they were. She really wanted to change the subject but couldn't, not with all of them looking at her so expectantly and having her as the centre of attention.

There was a small buzzing silence then; everyone was looking at one another a little awkward, until a question broke it in the most surprising way. With a shit-eating grin, Saya-san – or Sa-chan, as Tokio would call her – spoke in a teasing tone.

"Who was your favourite, Tokio-chan?"

She was definitely blind-sided; her mouth opened slightly to speak, but stopped, not once but twice. Her head tilted to the side. She felt very self-conscious suddenly, for no other reason that Saitou was listening to this, but she would speak her honest mind.

"Hm...I think I'd say Nagakura-san was my favourite."

She couldn't help looking at him, to see his reaction, but she was unsatisfied to see she elicited none out of him. Or maybe she was wrong because while the women giggled, Hajime decided to speak up for the first time and make a most disarming question.

"How come?" He still didn't sound invested and she then had the distinct idea he was only trying to make her feel even worse, that fiend.

"Indeed!" An-chan jumped at the chance "tell us what made him so special."

"He was incredibly soft-spoken but smart; he didn't have a commanding presence but he was the one people looked to in Hijikata's absence, to make plans and form tactics. He was very reliable." She hummed. "Then again, the one who actually took over command of the unit when Hijikata picked up and went off to Hokkaido, was Hajime."

"Hajime?"

"Saitou-san, the captain of the third unit at the time."

"Oooh, I've heard tales of him," Sakura, a slender plain-looking woman exclaimed and leaned forward as if sharing a big secret "he was said to be immortal: the only man seen walking away from every battlefield...!"

"Ah, I've heard of him, too! Scary-looking man, tall as a mountain, they'd said; you could easily spot him in a crowd."

"Could knock you down with but a glare."

"Vengeance personified."

Tokio had to laugh. "My, my...what a legend." She sobered up, shaking her head amused. "I don't know about all of that, but he was definitely a little scary the first time I saw him."

She could still remember it clear as day. She was running late for an errand and when she'd walked in the room, the meeting had already started. Everyone rushed to greet her or ask if all was well, but he was the one who had made her feel impertinent just by the way he looked at her, as if she was dirt on his shoes.

"How so, how so?"

"He had a formidable glare; and I had intruded on a meeting."

The women laughed; she had to use this opportunity to turn to the man in question who was doing his damn hardest not to appear entertained, but, alas, she could see it: the twitch of a smile, the devil-may-care attitude melting away at the way he looked but tried not to look at her.

"Also, I was the only woman allowed in the war room but I don't think he was informed of that and thought I had committed two cardinal sins in one night." She tried not to betray herself and only looked at Hajime with the edge of her eyes. "He was very uptight."

"I believe the word you're looking for is proper," the subject matter interrupted.

"I think not," she retorted, amused. "Well, he was proper, I suppose, once upon a time," alluding to the fact he would call her all sorts of disrespectful things now "but also incredibly uptight. Or am I not allowed my opinion?"

"Naturally; you are allowed to be wrong as much as you like."

"Did you know him, too, Fujita-san?" Saya asked interested.

"I met him in Aizu," he readily lied.

"Aw, so you both met him. Did you meet the rest of the captains, too?"

"Just him."

"What was his impression of him?"

"...he wasn't taller than I was."

Tokio couldn't help it anymore; she broke down howling with laughter, covering the rest of the girls questions or exclamations of "right, you're very tall, as well" or the like. She literally doubled over, falling on her side, decorum cast aside as she labored for breath.

"I'm, I'm sorry, I really am, I uh..." she cleared her throat between hiccups of mirth "acted unbecomingly. Forgive me." Her smile was not apologetic though and her speeches were directed towards the women. It was such a relief to see he was taking this way more lightheartedly than she thought, she didn't feel a shred of remorse. "Uh, I feel a little tired now," she admitted as she fanned herself with her hand. "Ladies, please excuse me, but I shall be taking my leave." She looked to Hajime who stood with her.

"I will be escorting you to your room."

They said their polite goodbyes and the two of them started walking; before they took ten steps, they saw the three men who were still in charge of keeping the women safe and they informed them they were headed there and Saitou should rest, too. So, he decided to go meditate once he finished with the current task.

The way there was silent, but fraught with tension. It was after they both drew open their doors and turned to each other that Tokio had mustered up the nerve to talk to him and he had the courage to look at her in the eye.

"Did you know...Hijikata was offered my hand in marriage from Matsudaira-sama?" The look of surprise on his face was a rare sight; she smiled. "My lord thought we'd be a good match, be it in politics or idiosyncrasies. Hijikata almost said yes, as well."

"Impossible."

"But true; he was dissuaded only when I reminded him, he'd have to listen to my opinion from then on about everything and would have to actually care. He decided against it."

"That does sound like him."

She took a good, long hard look at him. Was it just her idea or did he look slightly in a better mood instead of worse because of their previous conversation? Did hearing about his friends please him? After all, it must have been so long anyone even dared to utter their names.

"Don't do that," he said out of the blue, as she was gazing at him. "I feel like you can see through me," he answered her questioning eyes. "Whatever you're thinking, assume you're right and move on."

"I was thinking how sometimes the things that hurt us, can also heal us."

"I met your father once," he blurted out of the blue, speaking before he could control his thoughts properly "I only just realised, but you really are just like him. You may not look, but you certainly talk like him. You have his attitude, too." He thought he saw her eyes water and he felt a sick sense of accomplishment as well as shame. "I hadn't realised he was your father...until I heard that laugh of yours, it's identical."

A strangled sob mixed with laughter escaped her as she lowered her head, trying to delicately wipe tears away. "Father was always so proud at my mom's discomfort for the certain fact; she lamented how I should be more graceful but he was so very satisfied."

He seemed to be disbelieving but she gave a knowing, reminiscent smile. She sniffled as discreetly as she could but carried on. "He was the most open-minded and respectful man I ever knew; he found it endearing I was so much like him in mannerisms from a young age. And he was absolute on both of his daughters getting a proper education."

"Admirable."

"Indeed..." A moment passed where she collected her wits about her. "I was right; things that hurts us, also heal us. If you have any more anecdotes to share of my father, please do so in the future but for now, if you'll excuse me," she looked in her room "it's time to rest."

He watched her go through the motions but something ate at him; he didn't know why, but he didn't want to let her go just yet. Be it guilt or longing to hear a little bit more about his fallen comrades or just the sound of her voice, it compelled him to talk to her more, tell her anything, prolong this day...!

"Tokio."

She stopped just before she closed the door all the way, only half of her face visible. The way she was looking up at him though, made him unable to go on; all the things he wanted to say, he swallowed them, or rather, stopped them before rolling off his tongue.

"Yes?"

She never broke eye-contact; neither did him. They remained perfectly still, looking at one another. "Goodnight," he pathetically wished her, in the end and all the things left unsaid hang heavily in the air between them.

"Thank you; may you have a pleasant night as well."

Despite the definite conversation enders spoken by both parties, they still didn't move, only looked at one another for a long time. Her eyes, albeit red from her previous little bit of crying, were curious and sharp; his were focused and piercing. They didn't stop staring at each other...until they did. He slightly bowed his head and closed the door behind him. Still a little questioning – whether this moment really came to pass – she drew the rest of hers closed. Then, she blinked to herself and shook it off.

How...odd.

But from then on it only got "worse." It'd been getting weirder and weirder for him these last couple of weeks; maybe it had to do with the fact he would constantly see or be around her. Maybe it was because he slowly learnt to appreciate her attitude and read her moods, maybe she just grew on him, but it all came to a boiling point on that day.

It was the second time suitors came from all over the province and then some, to look at the blushing brides of the compound and choose one for themselves. Either women who'd lost their husband or previously unwed ones, all nine Aizu women as well as the one from Kobe were up for the taking: ten beautiful women; five men. So, they all knew at most, only five of them would leave.

And Tokio wasn't one of them.

Either because she was against the idea of getting married or because the lord still wanted her around – or both – she was never put on the list, a fact that left her most satisfied. And yet, one of the bigger fish that arrived, one that had men already stationed at the compound to protect or manage his interests, had stated to him specifically that he was only looking at one of the prospects and that prospect was her.

"Which one do you mean?" he'd humoured him with conversation when he made the grand declaration.

"You know which one; the prettiest Aizu-born woman of the lot."

Hajime was confused. "Define prettiest."

The stranger had smirked then. "The one that when you look straight at her, you wonder if you'll ever look at the sun the same way again," he waxed with all the pompousness only riches from infancy could offer.

Hajime was even more confused. "That makes no sense."

"You are no fun, Fujita." The man sighed. "Let me put it this way: she is the one you spent most of your time with." Hajime was more confused than ever. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go rob you of a most pleasant duty. I shall speak to the lady herself, as her own father instructed me."

That was when he finally realised two things: the man was talking about Tokio and the reason her kimono had been torn once upon a time, was because his men were claiming her as their lord's, as he had suspected. Still, the man's final words, as well as his self-satisfied, smarmy little grin made alarm bells go off in his head. There was something most worrisome in his tone and saunter.

Something bad would happen.

Panic griped him for a moment – that felt like eternity – and last time he felt like this, a wall caved in and he was trapped with half a regiment underground, a month ago. Reasonably on guard, Hajime walked to Kurasawa as fast as he could without seeming too upset, but made no stops on the way, even if people called out to him a couple of times. They hadn't appeared too hurried, they could wait. This, he feared, could not.

After knocking and being allowed inside, he had inquired about this certain matter; the lord had easily waved him away, saying he was informed but the man, Matsuda Ken, had also been informed Tokio was indifferent so he should be expecting disappointment. But then, the lord made a comment that finally proved Saitou's bad gut feeling.

"He insisted he talked to her in private, though I don't know why."

The pit of Hajime's stomach disappeared. A flash of memory went through his head of a ritual that men would practice in the capital. It was crude and vulgar but, in the end, it was a sure-fire way to get what they wanted.

"He said something about how if he could only have my permission to do so, she would be persuaded, but I again told him I did not think so." He shrugged. "I don't know what he thinks he can accomplish, but he was quite insistent, so I gave him my permiss—..."

Before the man even finished his sentence, the former captain was already gone. Only this once, he did run; his feet carried him to the place he knew she was receiving guests that were granted a private audience with her in record time, but it still felt like he was too late because, when he rounded the final corner, he saw right through the rice paper door, and there were two silhouettes fighting: the short one was on the floor, while the other was about to charge. His blood boiled; his hand reached for his sword while his body took that all too familiar stance. But before he could ever launch into the air, something unexpected stopped him: a leg kicked up, hitting the taller figure right in the face, blood spurting from the nose. Without losing a beat, Tokio crawled as far away as possible and he decided that was the best moment to intervene.

With three decisive steps, he covered the distance and slammed the door open! Both parties in the room jumped at the intrusion but where the man looked furious, Tokio was the most relieved she'd ever been to see him in her entire life. He did not miss the way she tried to cover herself – because the bastard had managed to yank part of her kimono off – and he was standing in front of her, shielding her from his field of vision in the blink on an eye.

Hajime felt he could snap at any moment, eye almost twitching, along with his hand, begging him to use his sword. He'd done it a thousand times before, it wasn't hard. Just two motions—one upward and one downward motion and the issue would be dealt with. He didn't dare to act upon this urge, however, for he knew, it was driven by emotion and that just wasn't like him, but how dare he? How dare he try and harm the one person he was tasked with keeping safe? He might have been useless, but he wasn't an invalid, damn it! And this bastard had dared—...!?

Doing his best to appear calm, he took a hard look at Matsuda. And yet, the bastard didn't seem to falter too much.

"Fujita, was it?" he tried to play it cool, seemingly unaware of the sword brandished against him. "How come you're here?"

"Make an educated guess."

"I possibly can't. You are the lord's vessel and the lord has—"

"—no idea of the ways of young men of the capital. He is a born and raised country bumpkin. That is the one and only reason you were ever allowed in the same room with her alone." The sword was ever so slightly raised "But here we are."

"Oh, come now, Fujita, you are a man; you know how she's like..."

"Indeed; which is why I'm here." He curtly nodded to the door. "Get out. Now."

"...I've heard the rumours about you, you know," he said it in a lower voice, full of meaning. "Big strong man who likes to use his sword to get things done. But instead of being out at the latest front, doing what you know how to do best, you're trapped here, baby-sitting a spoiled rich woman of over twenty years of age. I know you don't care about her one way or another; I know you want her gone. Just give me five minutes and she will be. That's all I ask."

"If five minutes is all you ask for, I'd feel too sorry for her to leave." The man seemed to take offense to that, but Saitou went on and didn't allow it to mount. "Get up; get out. I won't ask you a third time."

The asshole's smirk made his hand twitch, eager to be used. "You can't force me, actually."

"The only reason you're not already dead, actually, is because the lord felt partially responsible for this situation," which he very well is, but he didn't voice that opinion directly "so he forbade me from taking your life." A disturbing smirk appeared on Saitou's face then and that was the first time he allowed emotion to show on his face. "But maiming you isn't out of the question. After all, you can still survive without a hand or two, yes?"

He turned slightly back to Tokio, to indicate he was asking her; she swallowed audibly and went to stand directly behind him. Out of respect, he did not turn to face her, but saw her with the corner of his eye and she was thundering. "I believe so; but only if you have servants to wipe your ass for you."

"Oh, I've heard he has plenty."

"Then—"

"I'm leaving!" He shouted it, so horrified he was from the implications. "I'm leaving right now."

"Take your men with you then, because the lord has no issue with me killing those;" equally horrified as before, he turned to face him "I did ask," he gave the finishing blow and he was jogging away from them both.

The moment he was out of sight, Tokio deflated and all of her bravado went with her. She sagged pathetically against him, clinging onto his arm for support. He didn't let her fall, but didn't touch her either, only kept himself firm for her to hang off of.

"I'm, I'm so glad...you came." She sniffled. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience and the trouble I caused..."

"I was just doing my job," he calmly stated "this is literally what I'm here for."

"I know, but...I'm really sorry, I didn't...I mean, I know we've had our disagreements, but—I don't...this isn't something that I'm used to. I don't...I mean..."

"Tokio." He demanded her attention; she gave it to him, through tear-filled eyes. "It's not your fault. The lord is too innocent to know about these things."

"Yes, but I know the very reason he heard about...and we fought on the first place is...I, I didn't invite him to—"

"You are not responsible for other people's feelings," he cut her off because he had the horrible suspicion, she was trying to excuse herself, as if he believed she brought this upon herself. "If I had known what I'd said that day in anger would lead to this, I never would have. I don't think you did anything improper. He had his eye on you ever since he came here and I think long before that as well."

"B, but I can't help but think...and what if next time the lord really wants me to go...?"

He sighed; it was preferable to his first reaction which had been to hug her. Stunned at the realisation and a little humbled by the fact she seemed to care so much for his opinion of her, he decided to be entirely honest with her.

"I lied." Her puzzled look behind red-rimmed eyes, made him feel all the guiltier. "The lord indeed didn't know what that man was really asking of him, but I never explained. I didn't have the time."

Her chin dropped.

"I had no orders, other than my standing order to keep you safe. And safe I did keep you." She took a deep breath as if to speak, but never did. "And I'd be damned if the one time I actually had to do something, I stood around idle."

He did? Wow. Was he real? She should—and then definitely…! Wait, she wasn't making any sense. She swallowed all of her thoughts before they turned into word vomit and took a deep breath.

"Thank you." It was spoken so loaded, he felt like she had just hugged him. "Truly, thank you." The bow was so deep, her head nearly knocked his hand. "And you don't have to find excuses for being kind."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you'll make me blush," he brushed her feelings aside easily...but had he?

He was actually a mess himself, adrenaline still pumping and all he could think of was he was somehow slighted by the man's actions and the injury to his ego would only go away if that asshole was violently hurt in some way. Which wasn't a sensible thing to think about, he knew; it only stemmed from…him being protective of her.

"In light of...everything that just happened, I suggest we speak to the lord immediately. He's a smart man, he'll figure something is wrong sooner or later."

"Try stop shaking first."

If she hadn't looked at herself then, to see she was still holding onto him for dear life and his fabrics were moving wildly because of her, she wouldn't have realised. Even her voice shook but she had failed to notice. Swallowing, taking the deepest breaths she could muster, she calmed herself. Slowly, silently she let go and considered his attitude towards the entire situation and came to the conclusion she had to be very kind with him from now on to make up for the magnanimity he graced her with. Her breath came in and out steadily for a long time, before she felt prepared to take on whatever the lord was going to say. She had to face the very real chance he might be extreme towards Hajime, but she had already made up her mind not to allow it.

At the same time, Hajime had come to terms with the prospect he could be kicked out of the estate for his decision. He doubted it; highly. But it was a possibility, especially if he had overstepped by sending the rest of the men away. Still, he didn't regret it. If anything, he was a little proud of himself for it...still, the possibility remained. But that was fine. He was prepared.

After about five more minutes, they went to face the lord.

Naturally, he had already been informed of Matsuda and his men's hasty retreat. And then, he was informed of the reason by the two of them as well. As predicted, the man did not seem to fault either one of them for the way this issue was handled, almost congratulated Hajime for his decisiveness and the avoidance of bloodshed. Almost. He couldn't formally, not really, but there was a faint smile on his lips as he announced he wouldn't be punishing him this once, for taking initiative on such a matter.

"Although, tis a load off of my shoulders, I suppose, the fact you two are finally getting so well along." An inquisitive look took over both of their faces. The man hesitated at first, but powered through. "I shall be making a trip to the capital in ten days; I had half a mind to take Fujita-san with me, but now" he gave his adoptive daughter a long stare "I see it is best to leave him here with you, my dear, to protect you in case any other issue arises. I will be escorted by someone else." The last part was clipped, a palm raised flat to stop Hajime's protests. "But I won't take your men either, don't worry Fujita-san. I have my own choices."

Hajime didn't say anything, in the end, not a word and since the lord demanded no one rejected to his decision, it left him no choice but to remain silent and watch the woman take control of the situation. And the next sentence that left her mouth, he was both expecting her to make it, but also was very confident he also knew the answer.

"Who will be in charge, in your absence, my lord?"

"You will, naturally." The man chuckled at her reaction, especially when he was disbelieving, she even asked him that. "You already run the household anyway," he waved her away "what's the big difference?"

"Ah-ah-I don't think I'm so bossy…"

"Bossy? No. But you make your sentiments known. And that's a good thing! You're clear to those following your lead. Isn't that right, Fujita-san?"

"Hijikata always used to say, it is better to have a tyrant for a lord that is clearly a tyrant than have a nice lord who doesn't know what he wants to be."

"I see…" her cheeks reddened adorably and she found it in her to smile. "I hope I fill the role to your satisfaction in the end, my lord."

"I know you will." He squeezed her hand, prying it away from her own vice grip to do so, a movement that surprised both woman and man. "Matsudaira-sama was the one who suggested it," he declared "so have confidence in yourself."

Even she couldn't hide the emotions after those words left the man's lips; tearing up, smiling and proud she shook her head decidedly.

Hajime could only watch, and although no one could guess by his expression, in literal awe.

He was…he'd been…wrong about her. Or maybe, he was never doubting her abilities or her pedigree. Just got so upset with himself he allowed himself to be so taken with her, thinking she wasn't even real, when the truth came out, he took his insecurities out on her. It was only a kiss; an innocent, quick peck on his cheek. But it had caused such an uproar within him…! He knew not why. He was never smitten with her, he never held her in exceptional regard, even if admittedly she had been exceptional. His vulnerability that night, the fact she got to witness it, understand it, and then try to do her hardest to help despite him never asking her…he was selfish. And proud. And he hated it. But not really. His mind was chaos and he decided to blame her for it, instead of focusing on himself and figuring out where this all came from, because he did know.

He knew exactly where everything was coming from and he didn't want to face it. Even now that he did warm up to her – again – coming to look at her as more than just a nuisance, he still feared to face himself, his demons and his regrets—her, as a consequence, too. How could she be so intuitive when it came to people? He literally couldn't wrap his head around it. And tonight, a day after the lord announced his departure and short-term stay at the capital and four women left the estate with husbands, he could feel himself smothered in this banquet.

The lord decided to hold it, as a farewell to the women who left, himself who'd be leaving the next morning, but, more importantly, to all those who departed long before this day, just so the survivors could be here today. Finally, the day came to celebrate them, half a year after his arrival to this purgatory. They still couldn't clearly state the reason of course, hence the lord dressed it up with the women and his own departure. But they all knew it was for the dearly departed. So, this once, men as well as women were invited—no one was without loss at this huge table.

And although he felt like he belonged, he wasn't happy about it. He knew though, he really knew, this banquet was held in their memory, for their honor, he shouldn't be dissatisfied. He wasn't, not exactly; he was simply suffering. Looking all around him, he was surrounded by new comrades, new men who fought at his side for whatever reason the lord or the government wanted them. New men that he knew were lesser than the ones he used to have by his side. There was nothing wrong with these ones, per se; but he knew they weren't the same—not as skilled as the ones he lost, not as close-knit as the ones he lost, not friends, not brother in arms. They weren't a unit. And he had missed being in one so, so much…the discipline, the training, the sense of purpose, of belonging…!

Now it was only: follow orders from some person he knew little about, so what he did best, don't ask many questions and hope for the best—that his cause was as just as the one he was fighting for two years ago. That's how real camaraderie is built after all: people sharing ideals, ideas and commitments. He was allowed to criticize what he found lacking and praise what he found excellent. Now it's only praise because everyone is too insecure and if he can't say anything positive, keep his mouth shut because he can't speak ill of shortcomings anymore, but shortcomings was all he came face to face with, superiors mostly included.

There was no connection anymore. No sense of self-sacrifice because everyone was too scared to give up their lives for something they weren't truly engaged in and Saitou couldn't really blame them.

Looking around him once more, all he saw was new faces he barely knew, men whose motives weren't always the best. Then again, were the Shinsengumi's always the purest? No, but they were a unit; he knew the men and their weaknesses, their strengths, aspirations, hopes, dreams…everywhere around him were unfitting people; or maybe he was the one not fitting in. But he couldn't help it; all he could think was: pathetic. This was why he was spared? To be permanently humiliated, humbled and ostracized?

But the worst part, the absolute lowest point, was he…was one of them now. One of these marionettes with no real ethics anymore, ideals trampled by the winners and pigeonholed to only do as he's told, at the one thing he knew how to do best.

Pathetic. He was pathetic.

The ghosts of his past were reflected in the faces of these new people and he only felt inadequate. He looked to his left and he could see Okita giving a toast and make a bad joke about his lord in the same breath; to his left, instead of whatshisname was now Nagakura, laughing heartily at Okita's stupid joke and drinking greedily from his cup. Across from him wasn't that inconsequential swordsman he didn't like his attitude, but Harada, elbowing Toudou in his mirth, who would still drink his sake unbothered, despite half of it ending up on his hitatare because of the disturbance. And where Hazuki Honda sat, two seats after him, he thought he saw himself, smirking while scolding Okita, having fun…and in the lord's place, none other but Kondou sat, laughing and smacking a very annoyed Hijikata, who only wanted to be left alone and have everyone be quiet for just one single moment, to hear himself think.

Night of the dearly departed indeed; all he could see was his old friends and comrades, new faces blending into old, memory stubbornly clinging to reality. And yet, these new faces persevered despite everything, a constant reminder the images were nothing but the vestiges of his wishful thinking, nothing but memories of the dead, never coming back, making him feel like he was about to run out of breath.

He, he had to leave. He had to go.

Excusing himself to the two people he had to bother by standing, he grabbed his sword and before they could move to accommodate him, he had found himself outside. He started walking away from the room, easily hopping into the garden, taking the route that led the furthest away. The faster he walked, the less hectic the thoughts were in his head but the moment he dared slow down, everything caught up to him and it was almost a physical need to keep walking.

Never noticing, habit kicking in more than anything else, he had found himself in that same space he would spend many of his afternoons, teaching a petulant woman the bow and the knife. In light of recent events, she even dared to suggest hand to hand combat. Heh; it was almost an escape, this little part of the garden. Familiar and filled with things he enjoyed doing: training and teaching. When he finally sat down at the stone bench, his exhale was shaky at best, but at least he didn't feel like crying anymore.

This place was…serene. It helped him relax. The little he did.

After all, the more he was left alone with his thoughts and the silence, the more he realised: he was heartbroken. All he wanted was for his friends to be there; they couldn't; all he wanted was for them to have survived but they didn't. Even Nagakura's fate was still uncertain at this point. He had no one. To call a friend, a comrade, a brother; to share values and trust. To drink sake and make merry and help him forget all the lives he took to reach here.

None.

And he was the only bastard to survive despite being in the heart of every fight. And he hated himself for it. He hated he was left behind, alive, to mourn the rest.

"Hey," her voice cut through the fog of his self-pitying.

So absorbed he was by it, he barely noticed the sound of her footsteps, even if she wasn't trying to be quiet. Still, now he did and he didn't have to look up to know she was slowly approaching from behind him. She must have taken the other way to reach here, then. He didn't acknowledge her presence verbally, but she must have noticed the way his head turned slightly her way, for she came to stand in front of him.

"Couldn't help but notice you exiting…in a hurry…" he said nothing. He wasn't going to make this easy for her. "Is everything alright, Fujita-san?"

He clicked his tongue at her. This, he would address. "You do know my real name, yes?" She attempted to speak, no doubt excuse herself but his anger had started something nasty and he didn't let her. "There's no one around to hear you, so, you can use it."

"I will."

"Then why didn't you?" He was being mean to her for no reason, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel she was putting distance between them on purpose, so he just snapped at her.

"I attempted to use it before when we were alone but you didn't like it. But now I will know better."

"I was upset at you then."

A small chuckle finally escaped her and he turned to properly look at her, sleeve in front of her mouth to hide the rest of her mirth.

"You look mighty upset at me now, too, if I may be so bold."

He didn't mind her feeling comfortable enough with him to tease him, but right now everything was annoying to him. "You know what I mean; and that was a long time ago."

"Forgive me, Hajime-san," she finally gave in and apologised even though both knew who was really at fault "I did not mean to upset you further."

He snorted again. "I don't believe that will ever be possible; you're infuriating. Truly infuriating." He shook his head and looked down, unmoving. "And I believe you actually enjoy it."

"Is everything alright, Hajime-san?"

"No. Nothing is right, in fact." He didn't want to speak at all, he wanted to disappear after this dreadful display of emotions, but he couldn't help his tongue, it just kept going. Elbows on his legs, palms tightly squeezing one another in an effort to stop himself, all for naught. "We are finally holding a banquet to honour the dead, which I too wanted and felt was long overdue, but I cannot enjoy it; those same dead people haunt my every waking moment! I see them everywhere. When I eat, when I drink, when I train…tonight is only compounded. I can't look anyone in the eye—I don't see them, I see people I used to know. And I hate it."

There was a small, dreadful pause for him to catch his breath and gather his courage. "But above all else, I hate how I am still here, when everyone else is not. How I alone survived from the battlefield."

He looked up at her for the first time ever since he started sharing and found her familiar face contorted by anguish and worry. He looked down instantly, ashamed but furious. "Don't look at me like that; this is all your fault! Your "deal with it" and "face your issues" attitude." He snorted again. "What did I get out of it? Just more…derision for myself," he searched and found the right word "and my circumstance. I wish I could have perished with my friends and be done with it. What would they say about me if they could see me now? I'd be better off dying with them…"

"If…if your friends could see you now, all they would have to say…is live."

He heard the tears in her voice, cracking as she spoke, even before she sniffled as discreetly as she could. "Please live." She really was pleading, begging him to look at her tone of voice, but he wouldn't dare. "They died for what they believed in—and you fought for the same things. It just so happened, you escaped with your life. Please, cherish it. Please." She was almost frantic, and took three steps and stood directly in front of him "Hajime, please believe me. None of them would want to see you follow them, not like this…I…"

She realised nothing she'd say could reach him. He was being like that again; and he did just blame her for it. Why oh why? Just as she thought he was getting better; he was feeling like this again and to such an extent! She knew, how did she know, these things never went completely away, they always ate at you. And definitely not so soon, you need time to heal, forgive and forget. But she at least hoped his time away of the fray would give him perspective, not make him feel useless.

"I am so sorry," she said instead, once she found her bearings, sure she wouldn't cry "for making you feel like this."

She knew he was only deflecting and she knew he knew, too but there was no need to rub it in his face. Still, she looked at him, looking down on the ground and decidedly not her; and he wasn't saying anything. Glancing behind her and at him repeatedly, she considered her options: she could stay and be a bother to him but make sure there was someone with him, or she could leave and not annoy him any further and he could come to the banquet.

She sighed; she didn't see it, but at the sound of that, his entire body jolted. "I understand coming to find you might not have been my best decision."

"Heh, you don't say."

She felt her heart sink. "Promise you'll come back to the dinner."

"I can't."

"Hajime; promise me, please."

"I can't."

"You promise you'll come back and I…I will leave you alone."

When she saw him nod imperceptibly, she felt her heart sink lower, but fine, it was his choice to make. She didn't want to make him worse. She'd leave. Exhaling defeated, she leant down and whispered "I will be looking for you again if you don't."

But after as she straightened, just as she was ready to take the first step back and away, he grabbed her kimono. "This is all your fault. All of it. Don't you dare just walk away from me." He looked up at her, a mixture of desperate, devastated and enraged; she was taken aback. "Fix it." He squeezed the bow almost too much, but the rage melted away, leaving the rest of him exposed. "You better fix it…"

He couldn't fight anymore; he put his head down lamely, almost hanging, but did not, would not let go of her; he didn't dare. She was the lifeline; that was it. If he let go now, the seas of guilt, hate and resentment would drown him; holding on to her was the only way not to feel suffocated.

But then—"I'll try, if you let me."

She didn't ask this once; she simply put her arms anywhere around him she could reach and pressed herself against his head. "But you'll have to let me try."

A strangled sob was hidden in her fabrics and only then did he dare to put his face against her chest; he let go of her bow and slowly but steadily, his own hands came around her, squeezing and brining her even closer, although she thought it impossible. He stayed like that for a very long time, the only thing that could be heard was their breathing. She didn't know if she was crying in his stead or with him – he was very silent other than that first sob – but she knew she was in fact crying, but she was quite quiet herself, because for her, this was a good development. It was a good occasion to cry.

At some point, and she didn't even know when that was, her feet grew tired of being immobile and standing at the same time but felt too bad to move; he must have sensed her discomfort – or felt her legs shake most probably – because he guided her to sit beside him on the bench. But he never showed his face. Instead, what he decided to do was slide to the end, lie on it, face facing away from her, but in her lap. It was thankfully a big bench because he was a tall man, but he was comfortable; in fact, when he made himself so, she put her hand on the side of his head, threading fingers through short hair.

"Tis the unpleasant duty of those left behind to bear the consequences. That is why, in my opinion, it is usually the strongest-willed people left behind." A pause. "Or, we become so, whether we like it or not."

He felt like the way she said it hid more behind it. After all, this was the first time she ever referred to "we" and not "you".

"Weren't you always like this?" He realized he might have sounded judgmental so he rushed to add "at least that's how I always remembered you."

"My sister survived, but my parents didn't; when I found out I...did not react as I should. The only thing is, I'm nearly as strong or determined as you warriors." She sighed. "I didn't go through with it in the end." She was conversational but he could hear her voice constricting. "Ever since, I have been trying to redeem myself, for my moment of weakness."

He stopped feeling too sorry for himself then and actually turned his head towards her, looking right up at her. He hadn't expected to see her so…calm but vulnerable, looking down at him with a small, almost hesitant smile, but there she was. He tried to be as neutral as possible in his expressions, but he must have been particularly curious or goading, because she felt like explaining. Of course, as an explanation, she didn't say anything; she showed him, which was worse. Putting her hand underneath her collars, she exposed her skin. It was a scar, not too big but not too small – one made from a blade, he could easily tell – a little higher than where the heart is.

He swallowed.

"I never told anyone though, so I couldn't take care of it properly, otherwise it would have scarred far less." She looked to the side, eyes ready to leak. "I was too ashamed." The more he stayed quiet, the more she felt the need to talk. "It took a long time to realise that it wasn't shame but pride that stopped me, but by that time…it'd been too long, so I didn't bother."

It was obvious she was sad and awkward about it, but not remorseful for sharing it.

This was the first time in his life he felt he wanted to be better with words, just so he could say the right thing this very moment, alas, he wasn't. So, he opted to do something instead, like he's used to do, because he had to react to what she'd just shared with him, for the first time in her life, too: he reached out with his left hand. She didn't move away or stand to leave, so he took that as a good sign and finished his motion by cupping her cheek. She blinked and a little tear escaped just in time for him to wipe away.

Somehow, this woman was not panicking, despite him being him.

"But you told me."

"I had a feeling you'd understand."

They stared at one another for a long moment; on one hand, he felt he knew exactly what she had gone through. On the other, he could never understand how a person was so kind, forgiving and giving as her. And what did he ever do to deserve her grace? A genuine smile pulled on his lips; be it luck or karma or some sick trick the universe was playing on him, he was grateful he was in this…predicament, in lack of a better word.

He closed his eyes, caressed her cheek for a second time – which was entirely unneeded as there were no more tears and if anyone asked him he did not know why he did it – and put both his hands on his chest, calmer than ever.

"Since you're here anyway, do you mind if I don't go back to the banquet?"

"Not if you don't; there's more than just one way to honour those who have passed."

"…you know, I really cannot wrap my head around how you can see right through me, at all times. Can you read minds?"

She chuckled. "I read moods."

"That can be worse." She giggled. "Just tell me when you want to leave, but try to not feel like moving until the banquet is over."

"Don't fret; there's no need for you to focus on anything else other than relaxing."

He simply grunted as a reply; after speaking "Saitou" for more than four months, she knew that signified agreement and did nothing other than lean a little back and let the night breeze hit her face. Breathing deeply in, she felt her own body calm, a huge weight lifting off of her own shoulders. Not only did she feel like she succeeded in her goal to keep Saitou out of trouble, but also shared her own secret and was freed by her conscience. She closed her eyes. Sweet, sweet release…also, it was much better to focus on that, instead of why in earth she was actually happy Hajime was lying in her lap, cupping cheek and all. She was happy he was pulling through his low point, sure, but that doesn't mean she should be happy he was so casually touching her…but there she was. She decided to ignore the thoughts for now and deal with it at a moment neither of them was so emotional.

When she opened her eyes again, it was no longer the dead of night; the sun wasn't rising yet, but the darkness had disappeared. It was a bewitching moment.

"You're finally awake," Hajime stated, arm over his face.

"I am…" she agreed, yawning as lady-like as she could. "We've been here for a long time…"

He nodded. "We should be heading back," he urged.

She kept looking at him, her brain a little slow; what he said was correct but he did nothing to move, so she was even more confused. "…yes, we should," she finally agreed and only then did he move. He stood first. They looked at one another for a moment as he for some reason offered his hand and for some reason, she actually took it. He was expressionless but there was something very captivating about his sombre expression. They didn't move for more than a minute.

"Let's go."

He finally broke the spell and they started walking back. Even if they were not supposed to be seen together, as this was a very late hour of the – next – day and it would be too scandalous – maybe a little dangerous for Hajime, too – , he had still offered his arm to her. She hesitated to take it at first, but he simply offered it again, when he noticed. Feeling some sort of way, she finally took it and they walked next to one another all the way to their rooms, which were right opposite each other. It was highly unlikely anyone would run into them of course, as they would all be fast asleep, and, naturally, she did tell the lord she was leaving because she was tired, so he had no reason to suspect, but if anyone had made the connection, it would be awkward.

But they had no ill meetings.

They shared not a single word the entire way, but the silence was comforting. Despite being quite sleepy, she didn't feel like it, not until after she was safely inside her room, so she got to appreciate the quiet and how it was second nature to the swordsman. She didn't mind; in fact, she found out she liked it-gave her time to think.

"Have a nice rest of the night, however small that might be," Hajime wished before they parted.

She nodded. "You, too." A tired chuckle. "Though I don't think I can sleep, as I will have to wake up in but one or two hours."

"Agreed; I will meditate."

"How do you do that?"

"I concentrate."

"I see." She shrugged. "I might try it, too. See you in a few hours, Hajime."

He gave a miniscule bow and drew his bedroom door open. Taking that as their final farewell, she did the same and got into her room, closed the door behind her and noticed how he didn't close his until she was safely inside. A sleepy, heartfelt smile tugged on her lips as she made her way to the cupboard to pull out her futon; but she was also a liar—she didn't even change out of her kimono, nor managed to fully lie on it before she fell fast asleep.


A/N: Soooooo this is it; hope you love it! Please leave a review on your way out if you did. Also, maaaan I am so tired today.

Love you,
FAI~!