Oops. This fiction is slowly getting massive. It's got more than eighty planned chapters, and I keep adding some. Didn't think it would be so huge but inspiration is still incoming. I'll post as I review and do the orthographic correction. If you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing it, please leave some comments !
I wish to thank the guest who left a review to the last chapter. It really cheers me up!
The captains had gathered, Oni-Vice commander included, so that I could show Saitō the moves I'd pulled on him. My state of dress didn't seem to faze them; a tunic and large flowing pants weren't too scandalous. Good. Still, I wondered if a hakama wouldn't be an easier way to blend in.
This being said, I was actually impressed with the captain's level of skill. Saitō seemed unassuming and thin, but the speed with which he unsheathed his sword was nothing to laugh at. And once the basted blade was in his hand, there was just no way around it. That man was unbeatable. Worse, he knew some jujitsu and other martial arts parades; he could use his feet and fists just as efficiently as his blade.
The only solution was to catch him off guard with exotic moves. Krav maga, or acrobatics. Okita's persistent cough, in the background, caught my ear. Damn, this was one hell of a cold. Even though he still behaved as a brat, I felt bad for him. A smack upon my hand called my attention back to my opponent.
"Focus, Kitsu-san."
"Erm. Sorry," I sheepishly responded. The nickname seemed to be there to stay; it was cute. All because of the red henna I used, the symbol of the Keeper of Time.
"So we've established, by now, that you are much more skilled than I am."
Saitō didn't respond, his face blank. But the captains did in my back, and I ignored Okita's annoying smug tone as he exclaimed, 'no shit, she's a fast learner'. I was funny to have irony used back on me. Still, my opponent's features didn't move an inch.
Damn that poker face.
"Anyway. Given your reactions on the night I challenged you, I figured that I would have no chance to beat you with the sword. So I intentionally used a self-defence move to get inside your personal space, because I gathered any sane human being would rather run from a swordsman so skilled."
Okita's cough was assorted with a 'you bet'. But it wasn't his voice that gave me pause, as much as the conviction in Hijikata's voice. "Anyone but a Samurai"
The Commander's stern reminder told me I was walking on eggshells. So I accepted his comment with a nod and set to demonstrate, once more, the nasty moved I'd pulled on Saitō. I swatted his blade aside with a tanto, and made to hit his nose, then, pulled at his arm again. The swordsman went with it, mimicking how he'd been pushed off balance to facilitate the slow motion demonstration.
Once I'd stolen his bokken and twisted his arm back, Shinpachi actually whistled.
"Dishonourable," I heard Hijikata's grumble.
"But efficient," I glared, taking the others captains aback. Who dared challenging their Commander when in such a foul mood? Years ago, I would have trembled in my boots. But I'd grown. Faced nasty things, elf lords, princes, Kings, knights and foul beasts, and survived. If Hijikata didn't want to accept ninja methods, it was his deal. But to impose it upon his men who might face the challenge pissed me off.
"I'm not telling you to fight this way. Just trying to give you tips on what to expect, and how to protect yourself from it."
My eyes were burning coals, right now, boring holes into Hijikata's unsettling gaze. I felt his hackles rise, and the man strode to me confidently. Saitō immediately stepped aside, face blank but eyes worried. Someone gasped in the captain's midst; I ignored it, glaring back at the Oni Vice Commander as if my life depended on it. This was a challenge, and backing down would definitely label me as weak. Respect would be earned, or lost in this very moment.
I had no choice.
Hijikata extended his hand to Saitō in a silent command; the younger man handed him the bokken before stepping away.
Shit. The man wasn't about to cut me some slack; he'd beat me black and blue to prove his point. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back and summoned my concentration, the wooden tanto ready to strike. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I watched Hijikata's posture reach for the ground, feet firmly planted in the boards. He'd never even bothered taking off his purple hakamashita; he didn't expect to break a sweat.
Possibilities ran through my mind, and I shut them all down. Instinct would be my only saviour. Fortunately, years of training had drilled many routines in my mind; my body moved on its own, not even consulting my brain when in battle.
Silence descended upon the hall, Hijikata's anger slowly gathering into a focused aura that infused his very being. So different from Saitō's calm stance that it took my breath away. The sight was incredible; the focus of a swordsman about to lash out with everything he had. If he touched me, I could file up for the second concussion.
Adrenalin rushed through my veins, my heart rate picking up. No pressure, I smirked.
My smile spurred him into action. His sword came at me with such speed that I barely had time to react. Reflexes took over as I twisted out of the way, the tanto clanging against his weapon. Nary a millisecond later, I heard the swish of the bokken reaching for my back. Caught in my spin, I used a catlike move and threw myself to the ground. Pushing hard upon my hands – fuck, that hurt! – I lifted my leg at an impossible angle to land a hard kick upon his blade. His attempt at dodging it unbalanced him, and he stumbled back.
Danger !
I was still in danger, and got ready to stand up. Unfortunately, my gyroscope went haywire, and dark spots danced around my vision as I clumsily fell to my knees.
"Fuck!" I spat, furious that this head injury still caused me so much pain. I stumbled to my feet, eyes unfocused; a dark veil has stolen my vision. A hand landed at my shoulder; I jerked away at the touch.
"Peace, Kitsu-san." I recognised the voice; Harada. The hands returned, gentle, supporting me as I tried to regain my bearings.
"Once you feel better, you can instruct them," Hijikata-san commanded.
"Good, so we can use it against Saitō," Okita smirked.
I blinked, finding a pair of dark eyes swimming in front of me. Their expression was guarded, but I swore I saw uncertainty flash for a quarter of a second. Then, in a swish of Hakamas, the Vice Commander was gone, leaving me bereft.
"Come," Harada said. "Let's get you to Yamazaki-san, I'm afraid the strain was too much for your head injury."
I absently nodded. Yeah, and perhaps lying down for a moment. Suddenly, Heisuke's boisterous voice sounded in my ear, causing me to wince.
"Well, that was one hell of a compliment!"
I blinked again.
"Hijikata-san would never attack a woman," Saitō's quiet voice provided. Well … what had he just done?
"Yeah", Harada confirmed. "Especially one barely armed. That means he deems you capable". My vision was clearing now, but my stomach was still pretty upset at the swimming room. I grimaced.
"Well," I chuckled. "He's going to have to work on his woman's skills."
Okita's boisterous laughter caught me off guard. "Ah. He doesn't have to, the geisha fawn over him all the time."
"Yeah. That's pretty unfair. He and Harada are really annoying that way."
The spearman by my side lifted a hand to his hair sheepishly, and I smirked. Well, those two surely were good looking. But where Harada was respectful and gentle, Hijikata was downright forbidding. As he started tugging me away from the training hall, I suddenly turned to Saitō.
"Saitō, would you be willing to instruct me in the way of the sword ?"
Wide eyes greeted my statement, followed by a frown. "But I am left-handed." Sorrow once more infused his voice, and I cursed the people who'd made him feel less of a swordsman because of it. Still … this was exactly was I was looking for.
"That's exactly what I need. Could you help me find some parades ?"
"Why would you want that ?" Heisuke asked, his usual innocence peeking through.
I sighed, remembering how often I'd had to guard my left, and miserably failed. "I tend to fight alone, and outnumbered. I need to learn to use my left hand."
Okita's green eyes were, for once, serious as he considered my statement.
"A shield could do the trick if you always fall head first into ambushes. But again, it'd be better to stop diving head first into fights you can't win."
I snorted derisively. "Ya think ?", I snapped, using O'Neill's favourite retort.
The curtness of my answer only caused Okita to smirk. I shook my head, remembering Boromir's massive shield. Little good it did. "I already know how to fight with a shield, and I don't always have one on hand. It's difficult to travel inconspicuous with a shield, and it's heavy.
"Say Kitsu-san, have you fought many wars ?"
Heisuke's wide eyes were curious, and I realised I had no idea. Being the Keeper of Time threw me in skirmishes and fights more often than not. But full-scale war?
"Erm. I haven't counted."
"What? How can you not know? If I had fought in a war, I'd surely remember it."
"Let me think…"
I revisited my past missions. Roma – no, wasn't a war. Damn badass fighting, and my first man killed, but no war. Middle Earth. Yup definitely a war. Fifth century – King Arthur's reign. War. 19th century – Napoleonic war.
"Three, I think."
Heisuke's jaw slackened; he was young, but still lived in a violent world. He was no way as innocent as I pictured him to be. So what was the difference between full-scale war, and survival in a harsh word, really ? The battlefield. Nothing really reached the horror of a battlefield … or its aftermath. Body strewn apart, fluids and blood, earth bathed in red, rivers turning crimson. And Tristan's heart, stuttering under my palm. I shivered.
"Are you a mercenary?" Okita asked, eyeing me suspiciously.
I was grateful for his interruption, for it tool my mind away from gruesome memories.
"No. I do travels in zones of conflict, but I don't get paid for it."
"So what are you?" Shinpachi retorted, eyebrows furrowed under his bandana.
Damn; I'd got comfortable with this bunch, and revealed too much. Yet, the more I travelled as the Keeper of Time, the less I concealed. I was growing into a confident woman, and saw no use in hiding anymore. Most of the time, my title and status eventually leaked into the open. Still … perhaps I should keep it quiet for a little longer. Nothing quite transpired from the fifth century. But now, photographs and record existed; what was the danger of exposing a mystical warrior?
Would it give hope, or screw up things ? Would the Valar scold me for not keeping the secret ? Eventually, the response came on its own.
"A Kistune, for now."
Saitō gave me a sceptical look, but kept his doubts hidden; he wasn't buying it at all. The others, though, were pondering on the words, their eyes travelling to the high ponytail where my ringlets fell in three reddish strands.
"If Hijikata-san is amenable to have me train you, I will."
I bowed. "Arigato gozaimasu, Saitō-san."
Another wave of coldness washed over the country before winter called it quits. Yet, I could feel it had not relinquished its grasp yet. So despite the cold, I took advantage of every moment of sunshine to train outside; the bokken couldn't be used inside, contrary to the short sword they called wakizashi.
Saitō had shown me a few basic left-handed moves and parries, stopping when I struggled to integrate them. Repetition would ingrain them in my brain, he'd said. Other words, but the message was the same. Train, and return when you're worthy.
When I wasn't trying to get my strength back, I spent time penning Kondō-san's letters, or exchanging nasty tricks with the captains in the training room. Today was such a day, and I wandered back to my room, Shinpachi in tow – they never left me alone – for a welcome change of clothes. As we turned around Kondō's and Hijikata's set of rooms, we found ourselves face to face with a man in lavender robes, an air of superiority etched upon his features.
"Shit!", Shinpachi swore, twisting me around in hopes of hiding my features.
"Nani…"? I started.
"Itō," he whispered, hurrying back around the corner we'd just left.
But it was too late; hurried footsteps echoed behind us, and Itō's voice, honeyed like that of a snake, greeted us.
"What's this, Shinpachi-kun ? A woman in the compound ? My, I think it goes against the code."
I blanched; we were busted, and even if I ran away, Shinpachi was in trouble. I exchanged a startled look with him, and he whispered, "Not true, women are not forbidden. Just in our beds." I rolled my eyes, amused by his propension to flirt. Heavily. Who, better than the Baka trio – as Hijikata called them – could laugh in such a situation ?
I heard Itō coming closer, and ducked my head. But not even the Gods could possibly help us here; I knew my reddish hair would catch the orange light so strongly that it looked like molten fire. Any moment now, the man would take a look at my face…
So I turned around and pulled myself to full height, sending him the most intimidating glare I could muster. The man and his lavender robes stopped so suddenly that I nearly heard the skidding of his geta on the wooden floor.
"A gaijin ! You are hiding a Gaijin in the compound !" he screeched.
I struggled to keep my composure, assaulted by the less than manly cry. Still, better not to talk. Actually, the only way out what to play… Kitsune. A slow smirk found a way up my face; I poured all my murderous intent inside, laced it with mischieviousness, and purred. By my side, Shinpachi was completely mute.
"What are you !" Itō screamed, hysterical. Inwardly, disgust was slowly replacing fear. He was so pathetic that I wondered how he ever could own a dojo. His words, though, tumbled all jumbled as he went on screaming. I took this as my cue to leave, and walked around him like a panther about to pounce on his prey, keeping him on edge as he backed away. Itō bumped in Shinpachi; the captain shoved him off him.
"Hey, watch it."
I didn't hear the shōji slide, but the thundering voice that cut the ruckus had become pretty familiar. Hijikata-san !
"What is this mess about?" he ground out, arms crossed over his chest in the best impression of a school teacher about to spank a rowdy child. Itō started blabbering, earning him a raised eyebrow from the Demon Commander. Was it me, or was he enjoying himself ? I kept in character, observing as his voice sharply cut Itō.
"I can't even work with all the racket. I expect it from my captains, but not from you, Itō-san. Have you been drinking ?"
"What ? Me ?" the man spluttered.
Oh he was going to lose it. Well done, Hijikata-san ! My smirk grew until Itō took a deep breath, and pointed to me. "What is this, Hijikata-san ? You harbour a gaijin in our midsts ?" he yelled, indignant.
Hijikata spared me a glance, his attention returning to Itō.
"I wouldn't get on her bad side, Itō-san. Better not to call her a gaijin, some spirits can be unforgiving."
"What… ?"
"Kitsu-sama occasionally lends a hand to the Shinsengumi, but she keeps her magic in check around humans."
Sama. Mmm. Those suffixes were a pain to use, but damn they could prove a point ! Impressed that Hijikata-san had caught the drift of my game – or got the same idea - I swished my head. Like tails, the three ringlets danced around my face, glowing in the orange light. Itō remained mouthslacked. Then, he seemed to regain his bearing, and scurried away, rumbling about demons and farmers' sons.
Shinpachi actually laughed once he was out of sight, but Hijikata's furrowed brows were unforgiving.
"He will retaliate," he sighed, his shoulders sagging. I could almost hear the weight of the Shinsengumi over his shoulders, the 'as if we didn't have enough problems already'.
"Yep, we're screwed," Shinpachi muttered.
Had I been Japanese, I would have apologised for the inconvenience. Had I been Chizuru, I would have blushed to the roots of my hair. But I was the Keeper of Time, and any idiot taking a dislike to me was responsible for his own faults.
"Itō is a politician. His revenge won't be fair," Hijikata said.
I nodded; Itō might have been a mannered sissy, but he'd owned one of the most renown dojos in Edo.
"Good," I nodded. "That gives me a chance to win."
Hijikata gave me a long stare, one that conveyed how disgraceful he still found my methods of fighting. Still, the ticking in his jaw told me he was pissed. I wondered idly which side he would choose if it came to it. Bah. Sentimentalism...
"Get her to her room," he commanded. Shinpachi obliged without a word.
I wished they were worrying over nothing. Yet, I had come to know that what the Vice Commander feared no shadows.
Better be on my guard.