Geta were more difficult to navigate to than cord sandals. But I, who abhorred any type of shoes, was now progressing at a proper pace – for a woman – under my veiled hat. The idea was strictly genial; noblewomen sometimes travelled incognito, using those large hats prolonged by a veil. The cloth was opaque enough to hide my face from the public, but didn't prevent me from seeing, albeit my vision was greatly impaired. It also kept mosquitoes and nasties away. The smell of fish stalls, through, wasn't dulled.
My brand-new kimono felt so amazing that I feared tearing it at every step.
"Careful!"
Kondō's hand shot up to guide me away a particular nasty channel, filled with waste from the day. I smiled; hidden behind the veil, the strings tied at my chin pulled at my skin. Even though kimonos were restrictive, and those geta less than comfortable to me – I had no doubt anyone else, born in Japan, could master it – I wasn't a damsel in distress. But Kondō was having a field day treating me like one; his joyful mood was communicative.
As Hijikata had pointed out, people would believe that he escorted his concubines to dinner. Concubines, yes, plural. For Sanan walked by my side, his green kimono untopped by the traditional Hakama, a similar veiled hat upon his head.
"I have to admit, Frances-kun, that you have the strangest ideas," the spectacled man mused by my side. I pushed the veil away, just a moment, to try and catch his gaze. Behind the cloth, I spotted a pair of twinkling grey eyes.
"Tell me you are not enjoying it."
"Being dressed as a woman wasn't on my list of indispensable experiences," his musical voice retorted. "But there are perks to being the Oni's concubine."
"You are not!" Hijikata growled, two steps forward.
Both Sanan and I chuckled under our disguise. It would have been unfair to keep the scientist at the compound when he'd worked so hard on Okita's cure. Any success, or failure, would be shared. If I could hide under a veil, why not him? After all, he wore a kimono under his hakama. Tonight, though, he'd tied up a woman's obi around his waist. The idea, a joke, at first, had actually created quite a commotion.
"I can be Hijikata-kun's concubine," Sanan quipped mischievously, causing the Commander to blush.
"Tch. Kondō can have both of you," he retorted hotly. "You can bore him to death with talks of mathematics."
I knew to what he was referring; visibly, Fukuchō had not been pleased at my attempt to characterise him with a logarithm curve. Then, his last words alighted a bulb in my brain, and I turned to Kondō with disbelief.
"Wait, you can have two?", I asked innocently. This time, it was the Captain's turn to blush. Sanan's awkward cough and Hijikata's stubborn silence had answered the question.
Right. Monogamy, here I come.
So there we were, two of Kondō's concubines, passing a gate that looked like a temple's with a sour Hijikata-san by our side. Houses, painted red, lined up the street. Laughter rose from the establishements, lanterns literring the way. The smells were different, much more elaborate than whatever came out of our kitchen at the compound. I was already salivating, wondering what traditional dish was about to greet my palate.
Whispers greeted our passage; some of them were about us. Others, about the beauty of our Oni Vice commander, and the Maiko he'd tried to steal last year. Or his supposed mistresses seomwhere in Kyōto…
I stored the information away, mindful of the gazes that rested upon us. Hijikata's face soured, and I quickened my step to walk by his side. After all, he was the one wearing my scabbard this evening. Should we be attacked, I needed to keep him close. Officially, he was our bodyguard.
"Rumours, Fukuchō?", I asked.
He groaned, the sound rumbling in his chest as he walked. He didn't grant me the slightest look, eyes strained forward, when he spoke. But his voice was laced with annoyance.
"Yukimura spent a little time down here to get some information. Things didn't quite go as planned, I had to fish her out."
Chizuru, disguised as a Maiko? She must have looked ravishing. If Hijikata had been the one to lead her away with his thunderous ways and infamous good looks, no doubt the sight wouldn't be forgotten.
"Rumours are funny that way," I nodded. "That they transform every sliver of truth into a fairytale."
He pinched the bridge of his nose with a huff, and I smiled.
"It's been more than a year!" he whined like a displeased wolf. When he shed the Fukuchō mantle, Hijikata was prone to a little theatrics. Especially when his patience ran out.
"Unfortunately, you are not the kind of man easily forgettable."
"The sayings of Geikos should not be trusted," he retorted hotly.
Was he referring to the fact they called him handsome in his back? Or had probably invented a legend that he saved young maikos to marry them off, or take them as concubines. The idea caused me to laugh; I couldn't see our Fukuchō with a set of different women. One, already, would probably cause him a headache. Hijikata was too impatient, too blunt to consider ladies' feelings.
"Their current occupation is hazardous, at best," I chanced. "I understand their need to dream of a respectable man sweeping them off their feet."
I barely distinguished his features through the veil, but felt that my words had caused him to pause. The Shinsengumi was established as Kyōto's police force. And even though their reputation wasn't too shiny, the Oni vice commander represented safety.
His voice had returned to his normal tone when he conceded.
"Hai. But it doesn't make my life easier."
"Well, women seldom do," I joked. A little self-derision couldn't hurt, right?
"You have surprising lucidity about your gender," came a silken voice from right behind me.
I nearly jumped; those veils impaired my sense of direction, as I wasn't able to keep a good track of my surroundings. Fortunately, the presence of both Kondō and Hijikata put my fears to rest. Well, except from the fact that my blade didn't rest with me. Safely secured on the sash at Hijikata's hip – who had foregone his usual hakama tonight in favour of a dark blue kimono – my sword seemed to taunt me.
"Be mindful of retaliation, dearest," I slid to Sanan. "We women represent half the world."
He just hummed, and Kondō laughed at our antics. Hijikata, though, was looking at us strangely. I shrugged it off; Sanan and I shared our love of science and cynicism. We spent long hours with each other, and I found his conversation absolutely delightful. I wasn't afraid to call him a friend, even though a part of him was hidden away, impredictible.
Feeling bold, I decided to tease the Captain a little.
"So, Kondō-san, why take me to Shimaraba? Are you planning to sell me off?"
The tall man coughed, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Since the sun had yet to set, I had a great view over his reddened cheekbones.
"We've got entries there. And people we trust."
"Ah," I hummed. "It makes sense. I was a tiny bit afraid. I may have flexibility in my tastes, but I am very set in my ways. I'm definitely not interested in ladies."
Kondō-san's spluterred by my side and I released a carefree laugh. Sometimes, I wondered if he didn't consider me an innocent virgin.
"Relax, Captain. I was just teasing."
The man's eyes cringed as he chuckled, his arm shaking under my hand. I had to admit that being escorted by him made me feel pretty special. Tonight, I wasn't Kitsu the fighter. Tonight, I was allowed to behave like a woman, and it filled my heart with glee.
"Define flexibility."
Sanan's question puzzled me.
"Uh?"
"You spoke of flexibility in your taste…", he offered.
Oops. I had walked straight into that one. Well … he couldn't see my cheek redden as well at the memory of Legolas' kisses. I couldn't see Sanan's eyes under the veil, and he kept his voice carefully neutral. I cursed his witty mind, and smiled.
"Non-human is alright. Just definitely male."
I heard him suck in a breath, and frowned. What was that man thinking now?
"How about Oni?" he deviously asked.
Fukuchō sighed in annoyance. This time, I could hear Sanan's teasing tone just right. Was he referring to Hijikata, or Amagiri?
"Don't mind. Elf, ghost, Oni… Love is funny that way. It doesn't quite ask for your opinion when it strikes."
There was a slight movement by my side between Sanan and Hijikata, but my retort was only met with a chuckle.
"Well, it's good to be open-minded," Sanan concluded.
"I live in a strange world, mellon nin."
We had agreed not to utter Sanan's name in public this evening; he was, for the night, Yamanami-san. Since I struggled to remember the name, I had dubbed him 'friend' in elvish. Whether the men didn't want to pry in my love life, or felt it too dangerous to set a foot in, they dropped the subject to gentle teasing about ladies.
Friendly banter led us to a discrete ochaya. Large trees rested before the entrance, providing shade during the day, and cover at night. An older woman, dressed in a pink kimono, ushered us inside with great consideration. We followed, passing a roofed corridor with screens and wooden decoration that felt absolutely soothing.
The Japanese spirit lived in those walls, and I found myself pushing the veil away to take a peek. Our little procession circumvented an inner pond were koi fish lounged about. A small tree, perched upon a rock, plunged its roots inside. That little square of rustling water was absolutely gorgeous, and I paused to take in the sight, pushing the flimsy cloth away from my face.
Water, my absolute weakness.
My eyes feasted upon every little detail; the lights, the fabric, the noises, the paper screens that only veiled the view, but left nothing to the imagination for it carried conversation and smells. A feather light touch at my elbow shook me out of my reverie, and I found the Vice Commander gazing down upon me with a relaxed expression. The poet in him, for sure, appreciated the beauty of the place. The others had climbed up a set of stairs already; I hurried to follow, Hijikata guarding my back. The elder lady led us to a private room and bowed to us, closing the shōji behind us all.
"You can shed the hat … and your beautiful obi, Yamanami-san," Hijikata commanded.
That last bit was laced with amusement. I pulled the uchikatsugi out of my hair with a sigh of relief, hoping it had not ruined my braid and bun. The three stunned looked I received from the men worried me, and I passed a hand over it wearily. Would they even tell me if the hat had pulled at loose strands?
"What is it?", I asked warily.
Sanan shook his head gently, smoothing his own hair before his hands descended to the elaborate – and very feminine – Obi that still cinched his waist.
"You look beautiful, Frances-kun. This colour becomes you."
Heat rushed to my cheeks; I had not been expecting a compliment, at all. Funny, how every day Frances seemed different from the formal kimono wearing Frances. And while Sanan struggled with the knot of his elaborate obi, Kondō pointed to a cushion, and helped me in my seat with a large smile.
"You can thank Toshi, I was adamant to get you a pale orange furisode. He put his foot down adamantly, saying the contrast with your skin might not be in your favour."
A strangled noise, the equivalent to Chizuru's squeak, came from my left. As Hijikata glared at Kondō, who ignored it superbly, subtle warmth spread in my chest. That kimono, aside from being a work of art, meant even more now; blue was my favourite colour. I gently bowed, surprised to feel the air greet naked skin at my nape.
"You have my gratitude, Hijikata-san. Orange is so not my colour."
The man levelled me with an unreadable gaze.
"No need, I couldn't allow Kyokuchō to go out on his own. I might as well have a hand in choosing a colour that suited you."
"It is true that Hijikata-kun always had better taste," Sanan added, his nimble fingers sliding the large piece of cloth – the silken obi – away from his waist with a characteristic swish. "It probably comes with the good looks."
A blush crept us my neighbour's cheeks anew, and he dipped his face in his hand.
"Nani… ? Will, you cease your teasing already?"
I smiled, fully, this time. Those three really were something. Feeling in a mischievous mood, I turned to Sanan with no amount of glee.
"Of, but you do look pretty lovely too, Yamanami-san. Although I've never seen a concubine with such impressive shoulders."
Kondō laughed again, and I relished in that carefree sound I'd so scarcely heard. Now, if we could get Hijikata to unwind a bit as well, this would be the icing on the cake.
"I earned that one," Sanan responded, folding the long silky obi neatly. The Japanese way, with every inch of cloth aligned.
"You certainly did, mellon nin" I retorted cheekily.
I marvelled that shedding that piece of fabric aside made him a man again. There was such little differences in men's and women's attire; the position and width of the belt made it all. The rest was just subtle details; colours, decorations, and space at the nape. It certainly didn't help that Sanan's feature were so delicate.
After hanging around in the 5th century, the 17th and the 19th, I marvelled that Japanese men could wear kimonos as much as women. I was also glad that our little deception – dressing Sanan in women's clothes – didn't contradict any of those Bushido's principles, albeit Hijkata's pursed lips told me the interpretation might differ from one man to another. As if, by being born in a farmer's family, the Vice Commander had much more to prove than someone born into the cast.
The men pulled their katana from their belt; they had each taken one of the 'concubines' swords. Kondō handed his to Sanan who set it to his right. When Hijikata lay my elvish sword down on his right side, I realised why he'd settled on my left; I could now unsheath at a moment's notice. Sneaky man.
I gave him a polite nod, he barely responded to it, but his eyes acknowledged my gratitude. Ever since he had kissed me, he had shown no outright sign of being interested in anything more. Albeit my heart had been stolen, years ago, I mourned the absence of companionship. Hijikata's polite rejection stung, but I would take what I had. Respect was already a gift, given our rocky debut.
He probably regretted his forwardness that past night; he'd been drunk, after all. So be it. I wouldn't push. Times were difficult enough without the complication of a lover's relationship. Though a part of myself was giddy for the change of scenery. Perhaps, with a little alcohol, Hijikata's rigid stance would melt a bit and I'd be granted more heartfelt conversation. Was Toshizō, the man, longing to escape the bonds of the Fukuchō? He was after all amongst friends this evening … except for me. Would my presence hinder it, or encourage the banter? I would have to keep my enthusiasm in check.
My musings were interrupted when the shōji slid open, and a woman laden with layer upon layer of silk bowed low. Beautiful. Hairpins and ornaments dangled from her elaborate hairdo. Her face, painted white, only harboured a bit of red at the corner of her eyes. It caused her crimson lips to contrast, calling the attention upon them.
She thanked us for our patronage, whatever than meant, and straightened. Her eyes stopped upon Hijikata-san with a knowing smile – did those two know each other? – then travelled to me. At once, her features turned blank. She wanted to hide her surprise, but her eyes spoke nonetheless. She expected something different, but the flare of my blood red hair, and my foreign features threw her out for a loop.
Then, something unsettling passed over her face, rendered unreadable by the heavy make-up. Behind her, a very shy woman brought up platters of food, neatly arranged, and placed them before without even gazing up at us. It smelt delicious, and I spared it a glance before my eyes returned to the geisha; she commanded the attention in the room. A performer indeed.
Once the shōji had closed again, the geisha made a beeline for Hijikata and myself.
"It is a pleasure to host you once more, Oni no Fukuchō. Your beauty hasn't lessened a bit in those past months. Fame and success become you."
Hijikata outright glared at the woman, and she smirked. Yes, definitely history between them.
"Kimigiku-san, please meet Kitsu-san."
"Oh, the infamous guardian of Kyōto; I am humbled."
She bowed to me, and I returned the gesture, puzzled that I couldn't discern her intentions at all. The tone of her voice felt like a song, all honey and falseness. Was it the way of the courtesans? Her eyes, though, held purpose. She was a woman I would rather not cross. But if Hijikata trusted her, I would tentatively follow; he was as suspicious as Tristan used to be.
"An exotic beauty," she giggled behind her elaborate fan. "I certainly cannot compete."
I blushed, wondering if I shouldn't indulge in the sake to have a proper excuse for flushed cheeks. But two could play this game, so I retorted sweetly.
"On the contrary, Kimigiku-san."
The young woman eyed me with twinkling eyes, then turned to Kondō and Sanan.
"Allow me to introduce Kitsu-san to our culture. I have brought my shamisen."
The geisha exchanged a few pleasantries with Kondō as I mused upon the title she'd bestowed upon me. Guardian of Kyōto. It had a nice ring to it, but also confirmed that this woman was more aware of the city's underbelly than a geisha should.
Hijikata's eyes followed the woman as she talked with the remaining captains, lining the side of the room. I didn't know how to call for his attention without warning the woman, so I settled for a tug upon my beighbour's sleeve. His puzzled expression told me I had better explain my handling of his clothes.
"Who is she?" I mouthed.
"Oni," he mouthed back.
Damn; he couldn't have warned me before. But if he trusted her, it meant we were safe from the others. Hence the reason why he had chosen the establishment.
So, what did you think of the little ruse ? Sanan dressed as a woman really did it for me. Contrary to popular belief, and despite the strict Bushido codes, the samurai were reknown for their sneakiness and their propency to switch sides in the course of a war. So much that it shocked our Europeans officers. I wouldn't put in past Sanan to do exactly what he wants; disguise isn't above him.