Last chapter of this fun night in Shimabara. Brace for impact.
Sanan, unbridled by his usual worries, led the dance as he spoke fast, brushing subjects I knew nothing about – clans and alliances – and some I could grasp – the shōgun and Emperor. He also regaled us with tales of Sōji's pranks, or even his own youth and education. Apparently, he'd joined Kondō's dojo after being defeated by Isami in a duel; it fitted the character I'd drawn in my mind. His thirst of knowledge only saw defeat as a means to improve.
I also traded a few of my students' stories, about how my roommates used to stick shoes to the ceiling, or exchange the men's cupboards in retaliation. Hijikata had a few of his own; before coming to Kondō's dojo, he used to walk around the Edo era with a pack of family medicine upon his back. His words weren't so careful, but not slurred yet. Yet, a certain sense of familiarity twisted his sentences, giving them a more officious feel than at the compound.
After a particular funny tale involving an elder woman who wanted medicine for her less than eager husband – medicine the Hijikata family didn't provide for – I realised he must be quite parched. The others were still downing sake, after all. I finished my own cup of tea, and filled it up again. As Kondō started laughing about one of his own misadventures with Matsumoto-sensei – especially the day the doctor had yelled at him that his compound was a pig's den – I handed the cup to my neighbour.
We'd shared a glass of sake already, so I hoped he wouldn't make manners over tea. But then, who knew? Everything was so codified that I might be, again, the cause of a nuclear implosion. Hijikata blinked at me, and I feared the worst. Then he nodded slightly, and accepted the tea cup that he downed in one gulp. I offered the teapot again, hoping no one was observing us at the moment. He just presented it for a refill.
A tea lover indeed.
The night dragged on, and we eventually called it a night, belly and hearts full after this wonderful evening. I watched my beloved blade reintegrate the Vice Commander's hip, and felt for the dagger hidden in my obi. At this time of night, it was decided that no disguise was needed, and we stepped into the deserted streets with a smile upon our lips.
Kimigiku saw us off, and expressed the regret that we might not meet again. I gazed into her dark eyes, full of knowledge, and nodded politely to the magnificent Geiko. The Oni probably felt it as much as I did; war was coming, fast, and Japan was about to be upturned from his very roots. Worse than any earthquake.
It made me even more grateful for this wonderful evening where things had been as they should. Traditions, untouched. And joyful. Just as we passed the door of Shimaraba, I paused in my steps, and bowed deeply to the Captain.
"Thank you for this evening, Kondō-san. I had the time of my life, and will remember it always." Then I turned to Fukuchō: "Arigato gozamaisu you for taking care of my sword, Hijikata-san. And thank you for accepting the ploy, and being a friend, Sa … hum, mellon nin."
If the Colonel and Commander didn't quite know how to react to my heartfelt gratitude, Kondō grabbed my hands in his.
"You are very welcome, Kitsu-chan," he responded. "We all needed it."
Ah. The honorific changed. Was it me, or was I regressing every second month? From san, to kun, to chan. I had now used most of Kondō's palette. I smiled; it only meant closeness, and it made me happy. We started walking up the street, away from the river to reintegrate the compound when he asked.
"Although I'm sure you had better evenings, filled with good wine and illustrious friends."
Ah, Japanese politeness. Now, I knew I wasn't allowed to answer the truth; it would simply vex Kondō, and belittle his efforts. But I could dodge.
"I had a few good ones, without the good wine, I'm afraid. King Arthur's wedding was a sight to behold, but their drinks were horrendous."
Kondō took the bait; I knew he adored those knights' stories. His enthousiasm, childlike, was the only thing that betrayed the amount he'd drunk, for his steps were very assured. Mine, on the contrary, started to drag as the geta's cord wood chaffed my feet.
"Oh! You must tell us about that!"
Laughing, I started painting him the seaside cliff where Arthur to Guinevere got married. I told them of the ale – bitter and watered – and the fishes we'd caught, and those enormous tarts, the bonfires and torches as we danced under the moonlight. It was a pretty tale, a bittersweet memory for I had bid the knights farewell that day. Caught in my story, I failed at checking the surroundings.
A cobblestone caught my geta and I lurched forward with a surprised gasp. With my usual attire, I would have balanced myself easily, but the kimono restricted my legs and I toppled over. Damn it!, it thought as I plummeted.
Strong arms suddenly surrounded me, a warm embrace that prevented me from kissing the ground. I blushed profusely when Hijikata pulled me up; his arm still supported my waist and he had yet to let go.
"Are you all right, Kitsu-chan?" Kondō frowned.
I nodded, ashamed that I couldn't even walk properly with a kimono.
"Ah sorry, I'm not used to wearing geta."
The numbness was slowly turning to pain, and I knew it would blister. The compound was still a little way off; I considered taking the shoes off altogether. Unfortunately, the fabric of the furisode was too heavy to be pulled up; what would work on a medieval dress just wasn't possible.
"Sumimasen," I apologised.
"It's all right," the commander said by my side, his arm retreating. "It also happened to Chizuru." I mourned the loss of his silent support; his presence was so distracting that I wracked my brain, desperately looking for something to laugh about. Eventually, I managed regain my composure.
"The day you stole her from Shimaraba?"
Hijikata glared at me, before he realised I wasn't mocking him. Perhaps, in time, he'd realise I was just seeking a connection, rather than antagonising him.
"Hai," he nodded, extending his arm to the side. I blinked; I'd seen ladies walk along together, but never a man and a woman. And it impaired his sword arm. Was he really offering support, or was I dreaming altogether?
Hijikata's eyes were strained on me, unreadable, half-hidden behind the loose strands that danced around his jawline. Before it could become awkward, I laced my arm through his. I had to repress a sigh of relief; there it was, the connexion I longed for.
Hijikata started walking slowly, supporting me as I fell into step beside him.
"Better?" he asked. His cheeks were tinted red. Perhaps it was a trick of the poor light? I nodded nonetheless, feeling how tense he was of this unusual contact.
"Yes, it actually helps a lot more than I thought. Domo arigatō, Hijikata-san."
The man gave me a long, thoughtful look before we started trailing up the street at a lower pace. By my side, Sanan slid to Kondō in a less than discreet voice.
"I wonder who is supporting whom? Too much to drink, Hijikata-kun?"
The answer to that question was easy enough; Hijikata had kicked my ass, half drunk, when his brain stuttered to perform the simplest haiku. There was no doubt he was less inebriated today than he'd been the last time. Sanan probably knew that just as well, but he enjoyed teasing the younger man.
"Who cares," Kondō whined. "As long as Kitsu-chan can walk, she can tell more about King Arthur."
That a grown man, the Captain of the Shinsengumi, could actually sound like a petulant child caused me to laugh merrily.
I realised, as well, that for the first time since forever, I was happy. My heart, for once, didn't long for another; Hijikata's sturdy presence by my side offered support and comfort. Okita-brat was getting better, and I was now part of the Shinsengumi's family. I felt like I belonged there. Icing on the cake, I was improving my sword skills. And even though I knew it wouldn't last; war, or the necklace would take me away once more, I cherished the present moment like a treasure.
Right now, as Kondō talked, his voice rumbling in the deserted streets, words slurred, I found Japan a wonderful place to be.
A thought passed, unbidden, terrifying.
Had I just jinxed myself?
But nothing happened as we trailed up the street. I allowed Hijikata's gentle support to relieve the pressure on my feet, our point of contact slowly expanding as my fingers unfolded over his hakamashita. I felt his shoulders gradually relax, his body accepting my presence by his side as we listened to his friend and Captain. And, whenever a good joke was sent our way, I found the courage to squeeze at the fabric of his sleeve to convey my amusement.
I doubted even married couples got to walk arm in arm in the Edo period, and realised how lucky I was for this moment of peace. If the commander accepted my touch, it surely meant that trust was blooming again? Perhaps we would find a way to work together; I was sure we'd be terrific if we joined forces. I worked best with teammates. No one, in my past school, would have believe it; I was just very picky in my choice of partners.
As I mulled over past relationships – or lack of thereof, I could never trust schoolmates after all, my mind gently accepted to lower its guard. After all, I was surrounded by three very dangerous men.
Error.
I didn't see it coming; there had been no outwards signs of any kind when red eyes popped in front of my very face. Hijikata reacted at once, ripping his arm from mine in the fraction of a second to reach for his katana.
Too late.
I was thrown against a wall with such force that I saw stars. One of my geta clattered upon the ground, torn away. Pressure landed at my throat, harsh, and unyielding.
"Stop right there," Kazama stated at the sound of katanas ringing. "Or I'll crush her windpipe."
He didn't need to raise his words; the three men froze, swords raised, and jaw tight. I tried very hard not to panic, and stopped trying to gulp air when my hand closed around my assailant's forearm in hopes to relieve the pressure.
I dug into the too wide obi to discreetly retrieve my dagger. At last, it came free! But Kazama was ready; he twisted my hand harshly and I winced in pain. My wrist popped painfully and the dagger slid from my fingers.
Defenceless, dangling by the throat … air getting scarce.
"Release her at once!" thundered a voice where anguish and anger mingled. I was at the Oni's full mercy, what could Fukuchō possibly do? How had Kazama managed to surprise us so easily? Gotten right in our face, without one of us noticing?
I now realised how unbeatable the man was; he'd always given us fair warning before. Today, he went for the kill. Dark spots danced before my eyes, and I grabbed his forearm as tightly as I could, looking him in the eye as I clawed at his kimono like an enraged kitten. My wrist scream in pain, but I couldn't even hiss. I glared with my most intimidating Keeper of Time stare, and swung both my feet to his chest. The man didn't even budge, laughing in my face.
Enraged, I linked one of my legs around his shoulder, hoping to pull at his neck. Rage and frustration filled me when he shrugged me off effortlessly; I felt like a newborn in his arms.
"Stop squirming, or your insides will plaster the stone," he growled.
I stopped struggling, defeated. Then, agonising slow, he grabbed the chain at my neck in his gloved fingers. My heart stopped in disbelief.
No! Not the necklace!
Panic engulfed me at once. I was losing air and growing too weak. Kazama smirked, triumphant. When he suddenly released me, I plummeted down like a sack of potatoes, unable to hold my own weight. But his hands still held the necklace. My body fell to the ground; the chain snapped as it dug into my throat.
"No!" I rasped, coughing for air.
The Oni barely avoided Hijikata's swift blade; he jumped back and literally flew on top of the stone wall with a devious laugh. Oni no Fukuchō stood before me, his body shielding me from our opponent as I heaved. Kondō was at my side this very instant, and I fisted his clothes to pull myself up in a fit of desperation. The Captain hoisted me in his arms, his katana held aside in a protective stance. My heart stuttered when Kazama lifted the necklace, its bluish hues dulled by the night light. Horrified, I tried to launch myself forward, only to be held back firmly.
"Let go!" I rasped indignantly.
"Amagiri will be pissed with me," Kazama drawled from his higher position. I froze in my tracks; Amagiri, yes! I dared myself to hope he wouldn't anger his invincible friend. He couldn't steal my necklace! I'd never lost it, I just couldn't function without it.
Sanan's silhouette called my attention as he jumped at the stone wall, his hair white. The Rasetsu landed right behind Kazama who deflected his blade easily. But the Colonel wasn't deterred, and he attacked, relentlessly, a blur of slices and thrusts until Kazama threw him overboard. I watched in horror as Sanan was flung over the wall like a rag doll.
Fukuchō's eyes widened right before he shifted his blade aside; Sanan landed upon him half a second later. Their pained cries graced the silence, but my mind was entirely engulfed in the Oni that stood before us. "Too bad," Kazama smirked, his low voice echoing in the empty street like the devil himself from below.
My breath was so short that I heaved, once more. Hijikata jumped on his feet, looking positively murderous. He took a swing at the Oni's legs with a mighty jump, only for his blade to meet thin air.
Gone. The Oni was gone.
The shock was so great that I slumped, boneless. A wail of anguish echoed upon the walls; was it mine? Hands tried to pull me up, but my head sank to the ground, encased in both hands. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe…
"Valar, no!", I yelled, punching the stone with such force that I split my knuckles.
The pain just wasn't enough; my only link to my family, my friends, my time now belonged to Kazama. I couldn't go back, I was stranded. I failed my calling. The Valar … my gods, what would they say? The most precious artefact of history was in the hands of an Oni who behaved like a spoilt child.
My body was shaking so hard; it didn't matter, my throat closed. I couldn't even talk if I wanted to.
"Kitsu, we need to get back."
That voice… I knew that voice. My eyes eventually lifted, finding the bottomless ones of no other than Hijikata. I was so dumb, so shaken that I allowed him to enclose me, and lift me up. His touch anchored me in reality, and I was grateful for his presence. Any other time, I might have gone catatonic. But the hurried steps, and his strong arms around me reminded me that I wasn't alone.
My mind ran in circles, self-loathing and recriminations filling it. Why had my guard been down? Why had I allowed Kazama to pin me to the wall? Why wasn't I faster, stronger, more cunning? Why, oh why, had I accepted that my blade rested on another's hip? I could have … surely I could have pushed him away if I'd had my elvish sword?
By our side, Kondō tried to coax me out of my mutism. But no words left my mouth; I was too shocked to speak. My eyes, though, found Sanan whose hair had returned to normal. He walked with a limp, his grey eyes observing me warily. When Kondō's hand eventually grabbed mine, I found the courage to face the Captain's gaze.
"We will find it, Frances-chan."
Blood drained from my face; then what? The Shinsengumi would get killed in my name? How could we possibly retrieve it, short from killing Kazama? Who had that kind of power?
"Perhaps … if you're from the future, you can wait a bit? Then you'll find your family again, even if you are older, right?"
Kondō was trying his best to appease me. Little did he know that it just made it worse. Tears pooled in my eyes, and I hated myself for that weakness. But my body was rapidly declining, as if the shock combined with lack of oxygen were eventually claiming victory. I caught Sanan's gaze from the corner of my eyes.
"She'll be long dead before it happens, Kondō-san," he explained, his silky voice laced with sadness.
Bless than man for his cunning intelligence. As tears started trailing down my cheeks, I allowed darkness to claim my body. I was, after all, safely ensconced in a set of reliable arms. Hijikata would keep me safe no matter what.
Anything rather than facing my own failure.
So, erm. The fun is over. Did you see it coming ? I have to admit that, as a writer, I actually did not. It just happened.