That tightness in my chest was slowly abating, but not fast enough to make it comfortable. At night, it called for nightmares that left me sweating and panting. When the sun was bright, even though autumn had spread its influence over Kyōto, I found myself sitting outside for fresh air.
It wasn't enough, but Sanan refused to overdose my colbat medicine because rashes started to appear on my skin. The inside of my mouth, in particular, was literally bursting. So much that it was painful to talk and eat.
Kondō – bless his heart – had been kind enough to visit. Despite the sunken slope of his shoulders, he enquired about my health, and even apologised for failing at protecting me.
It was difficult not to laugh at the preposterous claimn but I knew how responsible he felt for my life. So, instead, I bowed to the best of my limited abilities, and reassured him that Itō-sod's methods were too despicable for the Shinsengumi to be guarded against.
This seemed to appease him, somehow, and upon seeing my struggles to breathe properly, he offered to guide me into some meditations to quieten my heart. After each session with him, I felt more rested. Sometimes, even, I wondered if I was going crazy; when I meditated in my room, the presence of the elvish blade seemed to call to me. Like a guiding light in the distance, brightening the lost traveller's path, it awaited like a beacon.
When I emerged from my last mediation, I definitely knew I wasn't dreaming. Kazama's words came back to me full force; the blade, somehow, was bound to my soul. What it meant; I had no idea, but it certainly sweetened those long hours of suffering.
There was no doubt, now, that I was developing an allergy to cobalt. The skin rash was growing worse; my hands and feet were now red and swollen, and my mouth so unusable that I wrote instead of speaking. Eating was impossible, ulcers covered my tongue and gums, making the process too painful. Drinking was the only available option now, and Chizuru faithfully brought me cold soups. Even lukewarm tea was too painful to swallow.
Harada came with both Shinpachi and Shigeru. His son had grown a pounds in the past weeks, and his cheeks were so puffed that it almost looked comical. The baka duo tried very hard to cheer me, and I found myself smiling at their antics. It was painful though; every smile caused my lips to bleed, and my mouth to scream in pain. Freaking allergy!
Though, seeing them happy, and parenting was worth it. Until Shigeru started screaming, and a panicked Sanosuke sent me a pleading look. I just shook my head; there was no way I would ever care for a crying baby volontarly. Especially in my condition. I realised, though, that I never had the occasion to give Shigeru his wooden toys. The baby ignored them altogether; he was far too young to appreciate the present. But Harada received them with gentle care and gratitude, albeit the wails of his son were fraying his nerves. Eventually, they decided to return the baby to Masa for a feeding, and I found myself alone once more.
No one spoke a word about Hijikata-san; I didn't see a piece of him other than the long ponytail dancing in his back from afar. Albeit, sometimes, I was pretty sure I heard his voice outside my room at night. This, alone, brought me a little solace. I somehow missed him, but was glad he wouldn't witness my demise. I knew, from Chizuru, that my face was pale and lips blistered. She'd brought me buckets of icy water from the well, it appeased my feet. The cold didn't bother me for it numbed my aching skin.
The worse, though, was that it itched. Pain, I could take. But this damn scratching skin kept me awake the full night until I decided to get another bucket from the well. I sat on the engawa with my feet plunged into the icy water with a sigh of relief. Body resting upon a pillar, I eventually found sleep with the elvish cape around my body, hand outstretched in the cold night.
Three nights passed the same way; the sole consolation was the improvement in my lung capacity. Even though my hands and feet were unusable, and I couldn't quite eat, I was now able to train a bit without becoming catatonic. Which was a great improvement. The weight upon my chest wasn't gone; that damn cyanide had done damage, and it made me crazy!
First, a concussion. Then, the attack at the baths. My necklace, stolen. Then cyanide poisoning. Of all my misisons, I'd never been attacked so relentlessly. How much could I take? What would be the last straw that broke the camel's back?
"Kitsu-kun ?"
I blinked, finding Sanan standing next to me on the engawa. Damn, was I that oblivious to my surroundings that the rasetsu could surprise me so easily? I gestured for him to sit, and he settled with a forbidding look.
"Kitsu. We need to strop treatment. You are reacting too badly."
There it was, that last straw. Tears pickled the corner of my eyes and I shook my head stubbornly.
"Please, Kitsu-san", came Chizuru's voice from the garden below. "I see your suffering, you can't go on like this." Beside her stood Okita, and my mind drifted to the battle he'd won a month ago. If that how Tuberculosis felt? That horrible feeling of pressure inside one's chest? The sensation of drowning in your own lungs? That disease, that both Sanan and I had helped him vainquish… How ironic that the roles were now reversed. Except that there was no miracle pill in my bag to repair the damage the cyanide had done.
Every dose of cobalt restored a piece of me. We couldn't stop now. Even though the pain was a constant reminder of the price to pay, I was ready to endure much more to be able to fight again. I fished the notebook out of my pocket and wrote with hasty strokes. Both Okita and Sanan gathered behind me, their presence looming above my shoulder.
"I need to be able to fight for the Shinsengumi. My lung capacity increases with every dose."
"I don't really think it wise, Kitsu-san", Okita drawled.
I send him a look that should have sent him cowering but he only shrugged; his constant fights with Hijkata had trained him to be impervious to any glare.
"We both went through this, Sanan-san and I. There's only so much your body can take."
I froze, thinking about the reasons that had pushed Sanan to take the Ochimizu. A wounded arm, a crippling blow for a warrior. He'd risked his life to restore his fighting capacities … what right did he have to …?
"Can I, Kitsu-san ?"
I allowed Chizuru to reach for my hand to assess the damage to my skin. The poor kid still blamed herself for my poisoning, no matter how I told her that I didn't held her responsible – and that Hijikata had been overly emotional. She took care of me to atone for her lack of judgment, and I didn't push her away. Her gentle hands prodded at my fingers; they had doubled in volume, red and swollen. Yet, I knew I could handle it.
"You can't keep sleeping outside with your feet in cold water. You will catch your death", the little lady said.
Shit, they know. I had been careful to hide from plain sight as I slept against the pillar. But it only took one captain to blabber. I squared my shoulders to prevent them from slumping, unwilling to admit defeat. I scribbled furiously, with the remaining hand, on the notebook.
"Pain is alright. I can handle more."
Sadness washed over Sanan's features, but he shook his head.
"You could go into shock. Your body is rejecting it."
Anaphylactic shock, this is what he feared. An idea popped in my mind and I sprung to my feet, running to my package. In my haste, I forgot to keep my efforts low, and found myself panting as I rummaged in the bag. Stupid cyanide! At last, I found what I was looking for, and turned to the three friends who had followed me inside.
I held a seringe of epineprhin, the perfect emergency treatment to anaphylactic shock. I made a show of injecting it in my thigh, but received puzzled looks. So I retrieved my notebook again, and wrote: "Emergency treatment in case of shock, very effective."
"I am sorry, Kitsu-san. I will not be giving you something that might kill you."
Blood drained from my face as I locked eyes with Sanan. How dare he take that decision in my stead? He, that had drunk the Ochimizu at the expense of his own life? Suddenly, the shock and the pain of those past days gathered in the pit of my stomach and boiled.
Despite the pain, I couldn't help but raise my voice.
"I can't fucking run, can't fight, I am useless."
The words scorched my mouth, some of the ulcers bleeding as I spoke. Sanan was livid, but he didn't back down. Chizuru took a step back by his side, bumping into Okita who stabilised her. Did she sense the incoming explosion? The bristling energy, trapped inside the Colonel, ready to lay waste in the room?
"My apologies Kitsu. I am not ready to take the risk with your life."
Sadness and pity mingled with steel, and I knew I'd had to push much further to get him to bend. Did I even stand a chance? Rightful wrath filled me, and I allowed it to consume me whole as I cried.
"Ochimizu", I spat. "Didn't Chizuru beg you not to take it? Why should you decide in my stead? What gives you the right?" My chest tightened painfully, short of breath, but I yelled those last words at the top of my lungs. "This is my life! My life!"
A droplet of blood fell upon my wrist; my lips had cracked entirely. I was panting now, swaying on my feet from the lack of oxygen. But Sanan didn't move an inch; was he made of stone? His grey eyes narrowed, and instead of yelling back at me, his cold, silky tones send shivers down my spine.
"This is Kyokuchō's decision and you will abide by it."
He took one step forward, his eyes flickering to my bleeding lips as his voice dropped low.
"And don't ever yell at me again, I am not Hijikata… I will not stand for it a second time."
I'd heard him call Hijikata soft, sometimes. Oni no Fukuchō, soft, what a joke! But as I watched the Colonel, his face carved in marble, I sensed we were tittering along the point of no return. It would take just a little push… Perhaps, more blood. As I struggled to draw breath, I found the strength to utter an icy "Get out".
He caught my meaning well enough. No, my order.
Was he going to counter attack? But Sanan was neither petty nor prideful; he'd put me in my place without any chance of retaliation. His image didn't suffer from my dismissal, albeit he had curshed me without mercy. Hence, he left regally.
I wished he had stormed out, leaving me a wreck like Hijikata would have done. Anything, but the cold anger dancing in his eyes, that ice stiffening his spine and locking his shoulders. Realisation that I had just alienated one of my best friends sunk in when he disappeared. The most dangerous member of the Shinsengumi. I felt myself sink, knees wobbling. I never touched the ground, for Chizuru's arms were around me at once.
"Lay down and breathe", she ordered in her best doctor impersonation.
My heart was racing, the weight upon my lungs so heavy that I nearly cried. All this pain, for nothing? Tears leaked from my eyes and I angrily wiped them away. What good would I be, without the ability to fight?
The Keeper of Time no more.
The warrior defeated.
What else?
Sōji picked me up, suprinsingly gentle, and brought my to my futon. His posture was nonchalant, as usual. As neither of us ladies dared talking, he pointed to the door.
"Yeah, I don't think either of us ever dared shouting at Sanan-san like this. Even me. I know not to poke a dragon."
I glared at the brat, but the meaning of his words sunk in. Okita knew, all along, that Hijikata was softer than Sanan. Despite his thundering and bellowing, the Oni vice Commander was still predictable enough; and he loved Sōji too much to harm him. Pulling pranks on Hijikata was like playing with a tiger's tail, but Sanan was like a snake. Hidden and placid, until you realised – too late – that death looked at you in the eye.
Okita's words sunk in, clearing my scrambled mind.
Even without a functional body, without a title, I could stand my own against a man like him. My strengh of will was my worth. I had fought Nazgûls, I could survive this.
On a whim, I stood up and picked up my elvish blade. Chizuru gasped, thinking I was about to attack someone. Sanan, perhaps. I smirked, in my condition, this would be akin to suicide. And even though I was royally pissed, I had no intention to harm my friend.
I left the room as fast as my lungs allowed me to, ignoring Chizuru's cried behind me. Then, in a tremendous effort, hoisted myself up to the rooftop. Staggering, I settled myself in my usual spot and crossed legs. Every single muscle ached from the effort, and my chest burnt like the seventh circle of hell. But damn, I was alive still!
I laid the blade down in front of me.
Come on, Glorfindel. Show me what you've got.
As my breathing evened, I allowed myself to sink into a meditative state. Birds, breeze, leaves shuffling became a background noise. The sun touched my skin, enveloping me in warmth as my heart rate slowed and my rasping breaths abated. Deeper and deeper, I sunk within, searching for the light of my beating heart.
Alive, I was alive.
One by one, the people who had shaped me passed in my mind. I didn't linger upon their presence, allowing them to occupy the thinking space without settling on any of them. Yet, I felt their love sinking in, their support, their unwavering benevolence.
Those people loved me, we didn't always see eye to eye, but they cared for me. They gave me worth, and I loved them back. The Shinsengumi popped in my mind, friends and makeshift family. Sanan, as well, without judgment, the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Hijikata, brow furrowed in worry. Kondō-san, with those laugh lines around his eyes. Harada, and his trust.
A great ball of light bubbled in my chest, easing the pain, engulfing me whole. I was floating, devoid of weight, tugging at the bind that linked the blade and I together. The elvish sword, too, started shining. I blinked, opening my eyes to take a look at the real world, only to find the metal getting brighter and brighter. White, blinding light engulfed the blade, and it suddenly sunk in the roof.
I started, watching the handle swish around the dark tiles, the blade vertical under it. I couldn't believe my eyes. The blade had cut through the tiles a neat section, and it now hung vertically.
Impossible.
Yet … it had happened.
A slow smile crept up my lips as I retrieved the sword, hoping that no one would quite realise the neat slice before I could master this new skill.
Well, that was new.