I giggled when Sanan gave me his trademark lopsided smile. My interpretation of Kondu's temper curve caused amusement to dance in his grey eyes.
The Colonel's wicked sense of humour reminded me of home; it was subtle, cynical, and downright incisive. I had surprised myself to laugh more in our brief encounters rather than of the Baka trio's antics. I could understand why Kondō, Sanan and Hijkata represented the core of the Shinsengumi. Their friendship went beyond complementarity; there was an intelligence, there, that allowed them to relate to one another.
Not than the unit Captain didn't possess it. They were just … younger, and louder. Expect for Saitō, perhaps, whose discretion hid a keen sense of observation. As for Sōji's inner sense of mischief … well. I wasn't in the mood to deal with that right now, for a new challenge had been delivered upon my doorstep. Sanan's friendly banter had caused me to draw an axis of Y and X that crossed in the inner bottom of a sheet.
On the X axis, we measured the level of provocation.
On the Y axis, the damage ensued by the man provoked.
So far, I had traced a line representing Kondō-san, with a negative start. A straight line that showed how patient he was, and how his temper would rise ever so steadily, like a Sherpa climbing the Everest, one step at a time until he found himself angry without even remembering how he got to that point. My analysis had caused Sanan to chuckle. Especially the mention of his friend's obliviousness.
The bespectacled men now eyed me mischievously, the corner of his lips matching the twinkle in his eyes as he patted the paper again.
"Hijikata-kun, now."
Besides the exercise – none of us got to work on our theoretical maths often – I suspected Sanan to prod my feelings about the organisation. I played the game; there was nothing, here, that could be detrimental to the Shinsengumi, or the future. So I traced a beautiful logarithm curve; it shot out from the abyss around the base of the coordinate system, only to level out the further we went on the 'level of provocation axis'.
"Mmm, interesting."
I doubt Sanan realised how professorial he was; he reminded me of a university teacher. Curious, asking open questions, and quite the pedagogue. For a moment, I felt saddened by the inevitable fate that awaited him. The fury form would either claim his life, or his sanity. He would die by his enemy's hand, or his friend's.
"Frances-san?"
I blinked.
"Yeah, right. So, erm. This isn't a standard logarithm, you see. More like a Ln (5x), at least, because Hijikata-san bursts into flames at the slightest provocation."
Sanan hummed, neither agreeing, nor disagreeing. That analysis was a little bitchy, but Hijikata was getting on my nerves those days. Overall, it was exaggerated. For sure, he owned a serious temper, but I'd seen him make astounding efforts with Heisuke, or even external provocations.
I traced the line with my hand, showing how the curve flattened in the end. Aside from the joke, this was the most important part of my analysis.
"But as provocation grows, his actions cannot be proportional. I doubt he'd go much further than a straight kill. You can't be deader than…"
I froze, realising what I was about to say. Can't be more dead than dead … except when choosing to prolongate your life beyond its span. Sanan's grey eyes pinned me, and my breath caught in my throat; he didn't seem angry. When had this man decided that his fate was worth than dying? How had he found the courage to become the first subject of his experiment?
The Colonel just nodded, waiting for me to go on. So I swallowed my blunder and returned to mathematics. Those were safer waters than ethics.
"I doubt Hijikata-san would resort to … anything worse than ending another's life."
For a moment, everything was silent in the room. So silent that my heart seemed to beat too loudly in my chest, so silent that the rustle of leaves in the wind seemed to penetrate Sanan's isolated office.
"Spot-on, dearest Kitsu. You have understood Hijikata-kun's character in depth. A quick temper, a strong determination, and morals that prevent him from crossing that line. Did you know that he once lost his voice yelling after Sōji-kun?"
I chuckled; it didn't surprise me one bit. From the little I'd seen, no one in the Shinsengumi raised Hijikata's hackles like Okita could.
"When did he learn that Sōji was immune to it?", I eventually snorted.
"He wasn't always. But Sōji-kun grew up with both Hijikata-kun and Kondō-san watching over him. He knows them both inside out."
Circumvoluted words to paint a family portrait, with Kondō playing the father, and Hijikata an older brother. Hence the rivalry when both men looked up to the head of that makeshift family, with Okita playing the last brat of the brotherhood. Why did Sanan gave me such hindsight? It didn't matter; I doubted Hijikata would ever share that kind of information on his own … especially given that he was barely talking to me.
"So, doesn't he yell anymore?"
"He still does, but his voice got used to it. Heisuke-kun also caused a great deal of grief in his time."
And now, Heisuke had left with Itō-sod and Saitō, breaking the Baka trio and leaving a weakened Sōji on his own. Well, not totally on his own, since Chizuru took care of him a great deal.
"How would you draw me, Frances-san?"
My name rolling on his lips always surprised me, especially since it was slightly butchered by the Japanese propency to chop syllables. Sanan's head was cocked aside in curiosity, and I pushed my tongue inside my cheek to think about a function that might characterise him. Patient, he only watched me as I scrambled my brain to find a solution. It was unnerving, how his attention rested upon me, like a bird about to pounce on his prey. Neither pressing, nor soothing.
Power function? No. Something wasn't adding up. I frowned, the brush held mid-air.
"My character seems pretty puzzling."
I gave Sanan a thoughtful look. Then it clicked, and instead of drawing the function he was expecting, I added a second line under the first axis. Below the 'level of provocation' now read 'danger level'. Sanan's faint eyebrows shot up as I explained.
"You have faked your death in hopes of keeping the Ochimizu secret, Sanan-san. I don't think you would react to provocation, unless it brough a danger to the Shinsengumi. I simply cannot decide on a function if the base isn't adequate."
The man smiled, then gestured to the sheet.
"Pray tell, what would I look like in this new base of yours?"
This time, I didn't hesitate to trace an exponential, wondering, all the while, how I was going to explain the fact that there was no limit to the damage he could deal if thusly provoked. I took a deep breath, then set the brush down.
"The exact opposite to Hijikata-san."
Both Sanan and I watched our work of art for a moment. It was incredible, to paint people's characters in a mathematical model. I had never expected to find someone, in this century, that would understand, let alone play that game with glee. Yet, there we were, both musing upon modelised behaviours, trying to unearth our own triggers.
"You are extremely observant, Kitsu-san. You have figured me out quite effectively; there is no limit to what I would do for the Shinsengumi."
There was steel in his voice, threat in his tone. I shivered, albeit the air was too warm for my own liking, as a bead of sweat tickled down my back. His silky voice coaxed me out of my hesitation, caressing, like that of a spider about to trap me in his web.
"Tell me why you drew me this way."
How could I explain that he was a grenade? Did he ask out of curiosity, or to probe my understanding of his intentions? Would he kill me if I revealed too much? My chest constricted, but I pushed doubts away. Sanan-san was a good man, and I chose to trust him.
"Powers simmers within you, but you keep it on leash. Contrary to Hijikata-san who gets angry easily, and comes downs just as quickly, you actually keep all those pent-up emotions trapped. You control the lid, but I don't want to be your enemy the day you take it off."
"I am far from the best swordsman, here", he argued.
"I've heard much praise of your swordmanship, but we both know we are not speaking of fighting with a blade, here."
No. It had nothing to do with wielding a sword, even though Sanan could hold his own skilfully. We were speaking potential violence, schemes, murder, torture, raw destructive power in any possible way. I exhaled slowly; my body was uneasy, just to be sitting here. Yet, Sanan had never shown any aggressivity towards me.
He didn't allow the silence to unsettle me, my body was already coiled. Instead, he gave me a gentle smile, and started tracing my own curve. It started like Kondō's, albeit with a lower tolerance. Then, he hesitated … and finished my curve in tune with Hijikata's.
"Does it feel right?", he asked. "A nice combination of Kondō-san, and Hijikata-kun."
I nodded, impressed by his observation skills.
"Yes. There's much I could do for those I love, but I would have trouble going further than death. Including my own."
Sanan put the brush down, and scooted away to give me some space.
"Would you resort to torture to save a loved one?"
I froze, startled by the question. Diving into the less savoury parts of my character caused my chest to constrict painfully. Who knew that mathematical models could bring such introspection? Still, I realised what Sanan was trying to teach me. Some parts of us were bathed in shadows, and ignoring them only hid your own power to yourself. So yes. If it meant saving someone I held dear, I might find the courage to push that limit a little further.
"Perhaps…", I admitted. "It would break me, though."
"Shinpachi said he would have chosen death, rather than the Ratsetsu's life."
The sudden change of subject caught me off guard, but I was glad we weren't speaking about me anymore. I was too emotionally shaken to link it to Sanan's own darkness at the moment.
"It's his choice", I stated with confidence. "And this was yours. No one can ever do it in your stead, and no one is entitled to judge you for it."
"You are uncommonly wise for your age. I guess your occupation has forged you."
His words caused my lips to quirk; Sanan was probably thirty-five, by the looks of it. People, in the past, grew up faster than in the 21st century. Which meant he had more than seven years on me, and the wisdom to show for it. His responding smile was slightly unsettling as he reached for the brush again, dragging a vertical line that represented his point of no return.
"I'll tell you a secret, and I trust you to keep it", he said, dragging his words carefully. "Sōji still fears and respects me. I was his ani-san in more ways than Toshi ever was. If he annoys you, you can call upon my name."
My lips flattened to avoid a predatory smile to spread upon my face, but these were news I wasn't about to forget. Satisfied, Sanan returned to the parchment, writing 'blood' over the vertical line.
"This is my trigger, nowadays. I am looking for a way out, not only for myself but my fellow furies as well. I had hoped to find an answer in Yukimura's Oni blood."
"Because the Ochimizu is a partial imitation of the Oni?"
"Because I retrieved my sanity after tasting Chizuru's blood."
A shudder ran through his spine, barely repressed. One of delight. My face fell; so this is what had happened. I wasn't prideful enough to be vexed that my tentative to talk to him, the night Chizuru had been attacked, had failed. But the idea to use her blood to experiment effectively froze my veins.
"Shed the ethics, and tell me, from your experience, from what you know of the future and the medicine of your own world, what you really think."
I owed it to the man, but damn, it frightened me to even consider the question. I shushed the screaming part of my mind by invoking the idea that Chizuru might just have to give a few droplets of her blood, and be done with it. Still … it chilled me to the bone. This was a dangerous slope…
Taking a deep breath, I fixed my eyes upon the ground and invoked the analytical part of my brain. Something in Chizuru's blood had acted as countereffect to bloodlust.
"If we consider what Kazama said, putting aside his arrogance, the Rasetsu are partial versions of Oni, caught between human and demon."
Sanan nodded, like a professor asking for a student to go on.
"I think that Rasetsu are missing something to become full demons, and that Chizuru's blood provided a balance, somehow. But instead of turning you into a demon, it actually allowed your human self to return and take control. It reversed the process, instead of countering it."
"Yes."
"But it is temporary, right, since you're still a Rasetsu."
There was disappointment in Sanan's voice when he confirmed it, and my heart ached for him. My mind flew, at once, to the earlier conversation. Was life laying a choice before me, Sanan against Chizuru? No, this couldn't be it. Quelling the dread, I reverted to the biology student I'd once been.
"You think that if you could isolate that thing in her blood, considering it can be extracted though science, you might revert the effect of Ochimizu?"
"No. But it might keep us in control."
There were too many 'if' in this. I knew, for sure, that the Valar used their magic, and that the strength of legendary beings also resided in that inner power. Would a Maiar's blood grant us, mortal, higher powers?
What if Sanan's recovery only came from Chizuru's magic? But the scientist before me was looking for answers, and mysticism wasn't about to cut it. He had called upon my knowledge of science, so a scientific response I would give.
"The Ochimitzu is contained in a ridiculous vial, right? If Chizuru's blood had the same kind of power, it would have reverted the change, wouldn't it?"
"You mean to say that the effects are not proportional to quantity."
"Yes. Unlike most medicine that tends to have a dose effect."
Medicine other than homeopathy, that is. Chemicals. Still … what if we could synthethise something out of Chizuru's blood? It would, at least, calm bloodlust. What were our chances to find that compound, if it even existed, and synthethise it with antique means? I'd take a team, a modern lab, and probably months in my time.
Sanan nodded, his face blank as he thought. A pregnant pause stretched, and I wondered if he had caught my drift. It was a dangerous slope; yes, Chizuru's blood could be a solution. But in this world, I didn't think we could find any way to synthethise anything without draining her. This was just what I told him.
"If such a compound even exist, provided it's not a synergy effect, I don't see how we could isolate and reproduce it. We'd have better chances at trying plants with similar components."
His lips thinned, his brain already working full time behind the carefully blank mask.
"Do you know what blood is made of?"
That was a good question actually. And thanks to my few years studying biology, I knew a bit about that. But the Rasetsu defied all logic; I had no doubt they very essence was magical, and not chemical.
"Only a few components. Iron, copper, sugar… I haven't done in more depth than that unfortunately. I'd be glad to give you a hand in your research. But I have to admit that I'm at loss without my – aherm – usual methods and technology."
"I thank you for the offer", Sanan retorted with an edge in his voice. Then, he softened. "I might call for your help if needed. I just need to take another route. Yukimura's blood might not be the answer I was looking for after all."
Somehow, he didn't seem to convinced. I prayed to all the Gods that he would never touch a hair of Chizuru's head, for Kondō, Okita and Hijikata would all have his head. Perhaps I could nail my point, and discard the idea altogether from his mind? Except that his idea made sense.
"In my opinion, it's like taking medicine for a headache. Once the effects are over, you'll need some more. Going that way would be … very dangerous."
Chizuru would be drained in a matter of days, no matter her resistance, if the entire Rasetsu faction knew her blood could provide bloodlust relief. My hands were shaking and I attempted to hide them under my knees. Unfortunately, Sanan was a skilled politician … and I, a very poor liar. He noticed my unease at once.
"Do not worry, Frances-san, I see the futility of such research. And Hijikata-kun would never allow it."
The Shōji slid open harshly and I jumped. Damn those warrior with silent feet!
"I sure wouldn't."
I didn't have to lift my head to know who stood, glowering, in the opening. Little wonder he was called the Demon Commander if he kept popping up like this.
A soft breeze rushed in the room and I found myself breathing easier. That last conversation had been chilling, and I wondered how Sanan kept his sanity while working here in the dark. Strangely, the presence of the Oni Vice Commander caused my tension to retreat. Despite his tendency to explode, I trusted his intentions. He'd guard Chizuru with his life.
"I know. The subject is therefore closed."
Sanan and Hijikata exchanged a long, loaded look before the commander's eyes landed upon out makeshift model.
Please don't ask, please don't ask.
"What's this?"
Fuck. I squirmed in my seat, finding that my legs had gone numb.
"A model for your temper, Hijikata-kun", Sanan responded with a mischievous smile.
I shook my head in dismay; they really were fighting like brothers, down to the pettiness. Despite my embarrassment, I felt privileged to witness this little spat; they had shed their commander's persona to squabble like siblings, and I found it cute … except that I was about to be dragged in between.
I kept my head down, wary of the storm that brewed in the commander's aura. Hijikata knelt, eyebrows knitted in a puzzled frown, as he watched our earlier work.
"I don't get it."
"I'll show you", Sanan responded, his silky voice lilting in amusement. "See, this is just a model of how much damage you can inflict upon someone, given the level of provocation. Frances-san, here, has rendered your character very well."
I addressed Sanan a desperate look that he ignored entirely.
"Quick to anger", he murmured, his finger tracing the shooting part of the logarithmic curve, "and bound by honour."
Hijikata stood so suddenly that the paper flew away. I caught the piece mid-air, rolling it to keep it away from the volatile man that stood by the door.
"Quick to anger?", his voice rose, barely a notch from yelling.
And somehow, it matched our model so well that Sanan and I caught each other's gaze. I couldn't hold my laughter, and neither did the spectacled man. Hijikata huffed, grumbling about mathematical models. He left in a rush, papers rustlings in his wake as we tried to reign our amusement. Overall, none of us ever understood why he'd come in the first place.
When I took my leave this evening, I was still reeling from the emotions I'd gone through in the past hours. Just as I was about to wish Sanan a good night, I suddenly realised he might be able to provide an answer to my puzzle.
"Sanan-san. I meant to ask you… Okita-san is still coughing, and it's summer. Is it a common occurrence?"
Deep sadness flashed in his grey eyes before the man dipped his head to hide it.
"I suggest you let it go, unless you believe in miracles."
He knew! The knew what ailed Okita, and I didn't understand why they all kept it a secret. Was he about to turn into a demon? To take the Ochimizu? To …? Sanan-san closed the shōji in my face, and I heard his silky voice from the other side.
"You cannot help him, no more than Yukimura's blood can help us."
To hear him so defeated wrenched my heart. I returned to my room, eyes lifted to the starless sky.