I was buzzing in the common room like a joyful bee, serving dinner and conversing with both Harada and Shinpachi about Italian food. Hijikata's last approach had sent me on cloud nine, and I wondered if my words would keep him away. I was getting worried now; the bittersweet warning might save me from heartbreak if he heeded it. But deep within, I longed for his presence.
Anguish suddenly flooded me and I rubbed my sternum. I was the only one responsible for this mess, so now wasn't the time to dwell upon it. I ignored the shortness of breath, consequence of my stress, and returned to work.
I wanted this dinner to be perfect in honour of Shigeru; both Chizuru and I had worked hard on the food in order to offer a nice, celebrating meal. For the moment, though, the three commanders had yet to show up. Their tardiness failed at weighing down on us; our company of six – two girls, four men – were merrily chatting time away once all trays were served.
"Ca sent bien (It smells delicious)", Harada said, tasting the tomato sauce with his finger.
"Ca sent bon," I corrected automatically.
"Oi! Wait for the others, you piggy!" Shinpachi protested, as loud and boisterous as ever.
Harada gave him an exasperated look, and winked to me. His voice was as calm when he responded to his comrade.
"I'm just cleaning the rim. N'est-ce pas, Kitsu ?"
Okita laughed as he entered the room and settled beside Chizuru. I grinned, even without Heisuke, those two never failed at bringing animation. And, even though most of the time, I recoiled at the noise, tonight felt different. Perhaps because we celebrated life altogether. Mayhap, as well, that my heart was singing with this newfound proximity with the Vice Commander. Again, and again, I remembered the intensity of his eyes, the taste of his lips over mine, the safety of his touch around my lithe frame.
For once, I didn't even feel guilty over my feelings. Yes, I had loved, and lost more times than a woman my age should have. But I was free of bounds; my former husband was now dead, and so was the man who had kissed me, in the fifth century, leaving me with a heart in shambles and mind in turmoil. As for my first love, Legolas was now married and happy with … my clone – which was a story for another time. The truth was that I had learnt to let him go years ago.
Hence, I owed nothing, to no one. I was free to find companionship with a man I admired, if he so wished. Our last interaction gave me hope in this regard; I believed Hijikata-san and I might find common ground and offer mutual support in the future.
Even though the man ruled his captains with an iron first, I could see past his defences; he wanted to be more. More than the Oni no Fukuchō. My presence might coax him out of the role, if only for stolen moments. I dearly hoped he would allow it; the perspective of some time en tête-à-tête, with Toshizō caused my heart to sing. The Vice Commander, unattainable, had shown his hand. And it seemed he wanted more of me.
Me. Frances. Not the Keeper of time, not Kitsu. Just me.
I wasn't a young woman anymore, dazed by the presence of an elven prince. Naïveté had fled, allowing wisdom to replace ingenuity. The flutters of my heart brought that hope, bright, in the centre of my chest; I couldn't ignore it. And couldn't wait for him to taste those gnocchi…
When the shōji was thrown open, I knew at once who it was. My heat leapt in anticipation as I whirled around … only for blood to drain from my face. I gasped, a tight pressure settling upon my chest. Hijikata's features were grim. Kondō's sombre and Sanan's grey eyes steely.
Eventually, Fukuchō levelled us with his unnerving gaze.
"Itō-san's faction and Satsuma clan are now allies. They are the ones responsible for the accusation on Harada about the murder of Sakamoto."
"Quoi ?", I exclaimed, ready to spring into action. All eyes turned to me, and I forced myself to sit back again. Yet, I could feel my muscles humming as I glared at Harada.
"I was accused of the murder, but they have no solid proof," my friend provided. I simply nodded, shameful that my last days of depression had led them to hide such an important development from me. Keeper of Time or not, Harada risked conviction and death should those accusations be proven.
My body started shaking, and I clenched my jaw. I had trouble breathing, and shed the discomfort aside – probably the shock from learning that my friend – a brand new father – was in danger. Should we whisk him away? Surely the commanders wouldn't allow him to be taken, right? Hijikata's locked jaw told me as much.
The room was bathed in silence; I tried to distract my shaking hands with a cup of tea, but my fingers wouldn't obey. I frowned. Why was I reacting so strongly to the accusation against Harada? Was he going to die? I felt overheated, and sweat started to gather at my nape. Strange. Perhaps I was coming down with something?
The captains started to debate about how to clear Harada's name. Perhaps presenting his sheath, which was rumoured to have been found on site, would be enough?
Even though a drumband elicited to play in my head, it would have to wait. The consequences of this conversation might very well lead to something major; I didn't want to miss a crumb of it.
At the head of the room, Kondō's expression had not changed. Dark eyes caught mine for a moment; I didn't quite know what to convey to Hijikata, except that my hatred for Itō was reaching top levels. That fucking weasel…
My throat closed, and I struggled to take another breath when the commander turned to Chizuru.
"Yukimura. I know from a reliable source that there might be an attempt at poisoning us. You need to be very careful when shopping for our food, and only take from those you trust."
The young woman paled and turned to me.
"Kitsu-san," her voice trembled.
I felt my heart stutter, then pick up pace as if I'd been running a marathon. What the hell was wrong with me?
"Uh?", I asked, tugging on the collarbone of my t-shirt.
"The sweets… They were offered to me."
What sweets? Oh… the wagashi.
Then, I understood. Damn it! Not like this!
"Gomene … we just…"
"Yukimura," Hijikata thundered, jumping to his feet. "Out with it!"
The young woman shrunk, terrified by the Vice Commander's ire. I wanted to jump to my feet and shield her, but my limbs wouldn't move. A broken noise before I wheezed, calling the captain's attention. It was then, with all eyes set upon my face, that Chizuru's voice rose in the silence.
"Kitsu and I just ate sweets that were offered to me."
Kondō gasped, a cry of distress stuck in his throat.
"I…", Chizuru started. She didn't get to finish when my breath grew ragged, and I fell upon my hands with a choked sound. The room broke into uproar, and Harada reached out for me in haste.
"Kitsu ! Yamazaki, do something!"
His panicked voice pierced me, causing my head to pound. It was as if all oxygen had left the room as I struggled to find some air, clawing at my throat. My mind grew hazy as I toppled sideways. Chizuru's worried face appeared in my reduced field of vision, eyes swimming with tears.
"Kitsu san, forgive me!"
I heard Hijikata's bellow voice shake the room, and Sanan's hurried pleas, asking more information. Everything became fuzzy and I writhed, hoping to find some air somewhere around me. To no avail, I was drowning. Drowning in nothing but air. A raspy sound came to my ears, desperate, was it mine? My lungs desperately searching for oxygen?
"She's short of air!" Sanosuke cried, searching my face.
"Cyanide!" Sanan exclaimed. "Yamazaki, quick, charcoal in the infirmary."
The shōji creaked angrily as it was flung aside. I felt strong arms lift me up against a warm chest, the skin of my cheek touching his as he struggled to stand. Harada. I felt the night air upon my skin, the cold draft of wind as I drifted, lungs exploding.
I rasped, clutching at Harada's vest with a vice grip as he rushed into the night. I didn't want to die. I was laid aside on a futon, and my fingers tightened; people and places were a blur, I didn't want to let go.
A strong hand opened my jaw as liquid was forced down my throat. In my struggled to find air, inhaled some of it and started coughing it out.
"Come on, Kitsu! Tiens bon ! (Hold on)."
I'd never heard Harada so panicked; his anxiety echoed in the room as I felt people gather around us. For my part, my thoughts were running wild again. Stupid brain, overloading when my body failed me. Dizziness caused the whole room to spin, and I knew I didn't have long.
Then, a white blur rushed into the room, raw power and authority oozing out of him. I knew that face, but those red eyes chilled me to the bone.
"Out!" he yelled, his voice thundering like a hammer battering a sword.
Sanan! This was Sanan who'd forcefully ordered anyone away. I should have found his rasetsu form terrifying, should have reacted to the urgency of his command. Sanan never raised his voice, for any reason. Somehow, the danger didn't register in my brain.
My body arched when Harada tried to pry my fingers away from his vest, but I was terrified. Lacking air, drowning, writhing as my chest constricted with short, raspy pants; he couldn't leave me. Harada was an anchor, much more than a brother in arms; he was family to me. The brother that looked after me, and kept me safe in the streets of Kyōto.
"Sanan-san," pleaded another voice. Damn, that voice! I'd die for that voice. I was dying anyway … wanted him close.
"If you want her to live, get out of the way."
Sanan's tone felt like a silk cloth surrounding the sharpest blade. A fair warning. For a moment, everything froze around me but the pain. Then, Sanan's unyielding grip tore Harada's clothes from my stiff fingers.
"Come, Toshi," a gentle voice rose at the back. "There is nothing we can do."
A frustrated huff reached my ears; I knew Hijkata's fist were clenched. Knew, without having to look, how frustrated his features looked. His anguish reached me, wave by wave, threatening to explode. My swimming vision stabilised for a second, searching for his eyes. Intense, and stricken. By now, I could discern between outright anger, and helplessness in the tightness of his jaw, and the expression of his dark eyes. Too bad I'd never get to study him any further, to learn him by heart.
"To…", I started, gasping from breath. "To … shi."
It was as if the very air had been displaced as a purple hakamshita appeared by my side. Heedless, I just grabbed Hijikata's sleeve – I'd called him by his nickname, and he wasn't yelling at me? The crumpled fabric was replaced by strong fingers as he held on to me, his eyes finding my swimming gaze.
"Hold on just a bit longer. Kitsu … don't give up."
Should I tell him I was dying? Could he possibly ignore it, he, a warrior? I didn't even know why I'd called upon him, why I wanted the last pair of eyes I saw to be his. My lips moved, but no sound came out. What could I say?
Sorry I didn't get to know you better? Sorry we couldn't explore what we had?
Behind us, Yamazaki and Sanan-san worked in haste, exchanging short instructions in low voices. I tried, once more, to gulp in some much-needed air, lungs screaming.
To no avail. My whole body slackened on the futon, muscles surrendering one by one. It started at the feet, then crawling up my calves. Hypoxy at work; I felt every single part of me giving up, and I wondered, for a moment, when my heart would stop beating. My fingers relaxed, releasing those of the Vice Commander; I didn't have the strength to hold on anymore.
But he didn't let go, only squeezing harder.
"Kitsu !", he thundered.
I was just drifting away, crushed by the weight upon my chest. Too tight. I wish I could ask forgiveness. The last thing I saw before my eyes closed where the violet hues hidden within Toshizō's dark irises. Beautiful.
Another liquid was poured in my mouth, its taste indecipherable, I was too far gone to care. Tears leaked from my eyes, a final goodbye to all those who had paved my way. Those who had made me a fighter out of me, a princess, a Kitsune, a red witch, the Keeper of Time. A bow to the Shinsengumi, for accepting me.
Another thought to the people that had borne me, given me a purpose, and nurtured me to adulthood. Parents, family, friends.
Farewell.
One last thought to the man that refused to let go of my hand, providing warmth, comfort, but no oxygen to nourish my cells.
I'm evil, niark niark niark. Please favourite and review !