Thank you so much for your reviews. The 'date' with Kazama really made me laugh so hard ! It actually might be in the plan.
As for now, more Kitsu-Hijikata goodness. I rated this story T, so I won't go so far into details whe nthe time comes. But the sequel will be M for sure.
Timidly, I reached up to cup Hijikata's jaw, finding smooth skin under my fingers. He closed his eyes at my touch, a small sigh leaving his beautiful lips. That special show of trust moved me beyond words, and the need coiling in my stomach broke through my restrains. My mouth reached for his, hands circling his shoulders to keep my precarious balance.
He didn't move an inch, allowing me to feast upon his lips with both tenderness and passion. For such an unyielding man, he almost tasted sweet. Beautiful inside out. Eventually, he pulled me into his lap, strong fingers slowly ascending along my spine until they grabbed my nape. There, nestled against him, our bodies in contact – at last! — I found myself enthralled by his touch, his lips, the little amount of skin offered below the collar.
Pehaps he was an Oni after all, because I was absolutely incapable of backing down. My lungs were screaming for air and I pulled away, only to reach for the cord that fastened his ponytail. His jet black hair tumbled like a waterfall upon the purple hakamashita, a striking contrast. I couldn't resist burying my hands into the thick tresses, marvelling that, after a day, there were no tangles.
Damn, everything about him was worth exploring.
The way he looked at me caused my breath to hitch. I'd never seen him so open. Sadly, I really needed to calm my racing heart, and I settled upon his lap to try to ease the pain of my constricting chest.
Stupid cyanide.
Toshizō sent me a worried look, grabbing the hand pressed upon my sternum. The warmth of his touch eased the pain away, and I smiled. I had trouble reconvening with the fact that less than an hour ago, he'd been glaring at me. How did we come to this ? Nibbling on my lower lip, I grabbed a long strand from behind his nape and smoothed it down.
"There should be Haiku written about your hair", I whispered. I could tell my words affected him by the blush that crept up his cheeks.
"Okita calls me vain", he chuckled. And I felt how Sōji's bratiness pained him, deep down. Now that the Fukuchō had shed his mantle, the man soared and shed its hurts. That he would confide them to me was a priceless present.
"Okita would call you anything to annoy you. I think that's the way he expresses admiration, in his own twisted way."
And jealousy…
Toshizō blinked, considering my words with care. Our faces were but inches apart, and I, comfortably settled in his lap, debated whether to hug him or not. My body was calling for his, but cuddles weren't quite a thing in Japan. Yet, he had not sent me away, even though I was probably cutting circulation in his legs.
"Ah. You're probably right", he sighed. "But enough of him. He's already the bane of my days, let him not be the plague of my nights."
I smiled fondly; he had such a way with words. Little wonder people found him inspiring. From the shortest command, barked with authority, to the longest discourse, Hijikata could pierce people's heart without mercy.
"You definitely are a poet."
"A mediocre one, at best."
My eyebrows knitted in a furrow: "I disagree. And you tend to underestimate yourself, from what I gathered."
"Eh?" The sound reminded me of Chizuru's involuntary squeaks, climbing an octave higher than his usual rumble. I watched with amusement the steep incline of his left eyebrow, setting his features in an almost comical expression.
"Everyone here looks up to you, including Kondō-san. That Oni nickname was not only created by fear. It means power."
"Ah", he huffed in amusement. "You know, I was born under the name Yoshitoyo, but my family called me Taizō when I was a child."
Yoshitoyo, eh ? There was a story there. Funny, how Japanese tended to play with names. At home, I'd had mine shortened, sometimes, to Fran. That was the end of it. Here, with the suffixes, the first name basis, surname basis, and nicknames, titles, people were called a bunch of different things. It reminded me of middle earth.
Gandalf, Mithrandir, the grey pilgrim, Olorin… Strider, Estel, Elessar, Aragorn. Four names each. And here, I got to see little Taizō. Short for Toshizō. This was cute… and incredibly at odds with the Oni no Fukuchō.
"Is that the name you like best?", I asked, unsure whether he was offering me to call him differently. He chuckled once more, and I found that rumble the most beautiful sound in the world.
"Nah, Taizō makes me feel I'm five again. I just wanted to share something in return."
This time, I couldn't quite resist and shifted my weight to enclose his chest in my arms. His body gave a small start before his arms wound up around me, pulling me close. Peace washed over me, easing the lingering pain of my chest. I sighed contentendly when his hand dug into my hair, the light carding so soothing that I could have fallen asleep.
Warriors had a special touch. Be it to kill, or to shield. Every movement was calculated, laden with energy and purpose. Hijikata was no different, and the repetitive ballet of his fingers upon my head caused my whole body to deflate.
"You and jasmine tea", I mumbled, lips touching the skin of his throat. "That would be my local paradise."
I wondered if my cuddliness was an issue. I surmised most husbands and wives didn't spend time intertwined like a set of vines. Affection, here, was expressed differently. But I was glad that Hiji … no, Toshi, would allow me to relish in the warmth of his presence. Perhaps – a girl could dream – that it helped him too?
He moved slightly, his mouth hovering over mine.
"You really are a woman of means."
"Uh?", I whispered.
He dropped a feather like kiss upon my lips. "You love expensive things."
There was tension in his body now, and I reluctantly climbed down to allow him to stretch his crushed legs. "What can I say ?", I joked. "I've got great taste."
Toshizō didn't dignify this with an answer, settling his back against the low desk, legs extended to the brazier. Yet, that lingering rouge that dusted his cheekbones told me he'd caught the compliment. Was our downtime to an end? Soon, I would have to leave his room, and return to mine for the night. And despite the late hour, and the sound of the rain that started pouring outside, I couldn't tear myself from his presence.
This was a truce the size of Africa, the depth of the Marian trench. I crawled over him slowly, watching his body language as I dared tucking myself against his side. He didn't push me away as I nestled with my knees tucked below me like a cat.
For the first time since the necklace had transported me out of my comfortable home, I actually mourned the absence of a traitionnal western sofa. But it didn't matter much, for even though my back was a little stiff, Hijikata was a sturdy pillar to lean upon.
"So, what did little Taizō enjoy doing?"
His eyes crinckled with mirth.
"Wrestling a pillar of the house like a sumo after my bath, apparently."
Laughter bubbled in my chest as I imagined a miniature Hijikata, half dressed, trying to uproot a pillar. "You must have been an adorable child", I mused.
There was this blush again; Toshizō was a shy man after all, hiding below layers of commandeering tones. But everything that touched to his private life was hidden away. I was truly blessed by his trust.
"Unfortunately not."
I frowned, wondering what he meant by that, but he didn't allow me to ask as he turned the question back to me.
"How about you ?"
"Climbing trees. Firing arrows at hens. I grew up with more or less 7 brothers, two of mine, 5 from the neighbours."
As I talked, my fingers busied themselves with unbraiding my mane, and smoothing the strands out. With the rain, better to comb them before it curled in a mess.
"You must have been a little princess."
I snorted; if he thought I behaved like a Queen with a flurry of knights, he was sorely mistaken.
"Hardly. We ran, we fought, we played every nasty trick possible, built fires in the countryside next to our lair. My mother used to yell at me when I returned smelling like ash."
"Ah, this explains that."
No precision needed about his meaning; I knew I sometimes behaved like a tomboy. And also, that I felt at ease with circles of men, because they reminded me of those brothers left behind. The warrior in me had been raised and nurtured by my childhood; I wouldn't change it for the world. This was the reason why I fit so easily with the Shinsengumi. I was one of theirs, not a delicate flower to protect.
Toshizō straightened by my side, his eyes travelling to the repetitive movement of my fingers in my curling mane.
"I've tried to stay away, but you really make it difficult."
I froze, my brows furrowing as my body tensed. "Why?"
Any other woman would have asked 'why do you find it hard', fishing for compliments. But I had the heart of a soldier, and Hijikata didn't mistake my meaning. For a moment, his eyes travelled down to the hibachi. As if he didn't quite know how to breach the subject. But I expected the truth from him, and he offered it willingly.
"Women tend to stray the warrior away from the path of Bushido."
Funny, how King Arthur's knights used to see things differently; women were a prize, to them, a reward for their services. Shinpachi, for one, would have gotten along just fine with Gawain and Lancelot.
I chuckled darkly: "Isn't that always a matter of swords and sheathes, though?"
Two quick blinks responded to my quip; apparently, Hijikata had not expected me to name things so crudely. After all, our shy kisses had not come close, at all, to any heated session yet. Did he think me a coy virgin?
"I'm trying to be serious, Kitsu", he eventually scolded. But there was no heart behind the rebuke, only amused warmth. I understood, though, where he came from. Hijikata strived to follow the Samuraï code; the way of the sword didn't allow such trivials things – love and affection – to hinder it.
I nodded, wondering if he would push me away, and revert to the Oni no Fukuchō.
"And we do not allow women in the compound. You are an exception."
I caught his veiled message as well: the others were not allowed to bring women back. My presence was tolerated, at best. But if I started sleeping around and adorning anyone's bed, things would go differently. Why would the warriors refrain from having mistresses if the commander had one?
I was barely breathing at that point, my back straight, sitting upon my legs in the traditional seiza position. Who, of the commander or the man, would win that battle? I knew, at last, what I wanted; to be by his side to the end. Yet, I would abide by his decision. Hijikata crossed his legs once more, and reached for a strand of my bouncing hair.
His eyes, intense, studied it in the poor light of burning ambers. Stuck between his index and his thumb, the ringlet seemed akin to loops of fire. I watched him, mesmerised by the flames dancing around his pale skin. Eventually, he relased the ringlet.
"Your light draws me in, Kitsu. You remind me of the person I was before. Serizawa … he pushed me to become an Oni, to do what it takes to pull the Shinsengumi up the ladder."
Bless Kondō for explaining to me how the Roshigumi had become the Shinsengumi. Else, I would have ignored who Serizawa was altogether. The same man Hijikata had killed with a blade to the chest after he became a Rasetsu. A former ally, with methods of a demon, and the strength of will of a God. But no ethics.
"It's refreshing to find someone that still strives to keep this fire blazing."
I understood, now, why Hijikata and I saw eye to eye; our ideals danced in resonance. This naivety that he had lost still lived within me, because the Keeper of Time was still true to its principles. Somehow, my refusal to assassinate Itō had hurt him, but also pushed him back to consider his methods.
No judgment, but a reflection of his past self. Someone he missed. My resolve grew, then; I would strive to keep this light within myself, if only to remind him that his wasn't altogether dead. I would be the Keeper of Time to the end.
"I understand, Hijikata-san."
"Hai. I knew you would."
Subtle praise, warming my insides at once. This great man trusted me, and I wouldn't disappoint. But I needed to know if I would be allowed, in the long winter nights, to cuddle by his side or just watch him from afar struggle with his great too many responsibilities.
"Where do we stand?", I heard myself ask.
Hijikata's gaze softened at the words, and he cocked his head aside, as if considering the wiseness of pursuing a relationship with me.
"I find pleasure in your companionship."
"But …?"
His eyes turned sharp, that violet hue flashing in the dim light of the brazier.
"But you know nothing official can come out of it, if only because there are no wives allowed in the coumpond."
Wife. Such a great word. I felt my face heat up, and refrained the need to bow to the tatami. Chizuru's manners were really rubbing off on me, but I wasn't a schoolgirl anymore. Hijikata's eyes were boring holes into mine; he waited for a reaction. From the harsh, tense line of his shoulders, he might even expect an explosion altogether.
How little he knew me.
"I'm flattered. Really, that you would deem me worthy enough to be a wife."
Not his wife, of course, but wife material nonetheless. His embarrassed silence – there was so much being unsaid, and that should remain so – gave me leave for a little self depreciation. Wife. As if. I didn't brawl like a man, but I fought like one. Tending to a house, shopping for food every day, children, doing social calls and practising diplomacy were not part of my skillset. Definitely not. Thank the Valar I was born in a modern era.
"The truth is… I wouldn't even know how to be one."
His lips lifted in a corner.
"I heard your cooking was great."
Tension took hold of my back, and I rolled my shoulder. Sure, I helped Chizuru cook quite often, but she was in charge. The only time I had done the cooking… Suddenly, the pressure in my chest had returned and I sighed.
"Yeah. I had a bite or two before that mess exploded in our face."
Bad memories. Just another set to put in the drawer and throw the key away. The lights of the hibachi danced about his face, drawing shadows that played hide and seek with his straight nose and high cheekbones. So beautiful; I allowed my body to relax. This was about us… Hijikata would probably pull away if he suspected I might want an arrangement. But I, European 21st century girl, couldn't care less.
Still, I needed to convey my own feelings on the matter. Secrets, so far, had only hindered our acquaintance. I fumbled with my words, though, finding them difficult to utter:
"I know I'll be either dead either gone soon, so I don't expect anything much … official."
There was the slightest flinch in his composure, then his eyebrows knit in confusion.
"What do you expect?"
A hard question indeed. I wasn't used to voicing feelings, neither what I wanted in a relationship. I pursed my lips, wondering what, exactly, I had been expecting when my heart turned to him for companionship.
"I … uh. A bit of affection, support, a little tenderness would be nice, in private… yeah, companionship, as you mentionned, is good enough for me."
He nodded to that; whether to acknowledge my words, or agree wasn't too clear. There was something, though, that he needed to know. It would be too unfair to offer myself, without him knowing that all the pieces weren't totally here.
"Listen. My heart had been broken a great too many times. I've got just a piece left to offer, I've not been whole for a long time. But that piece belongs to you, whether you want it or not is your choice".
His eyes closed momentarily, features pained. My heart studdered; was he about to reject me?
"I was the one who broke her heart" he murmured, searching patterns in the tatami mat. "I'm not proud of it but … being the Shinsengumi Vice Commander would have put any wife too much at risk. Even though she was an Edo woman…"
I knew women chased Hijikata all around Kyōto. I had surmised his lack of reaction came from distrust, or plain disinterest. Now, his reaction made much sense. The man had loved someone, dearly, and chosen between his calling and his heart. That terrible situation reminded me of mine so strongly that my soul ached for him; I knew what strengh it took to deny your own soul. The toll it took to chose the mission over someone's life…
I reached for his hand, and he allowed me to take it, lacing our fingers together. How I understood his plight, I who had chosen to save Lancelot over Tristan because he was important to King Arthur's future.
I who had left a husband on a man-o-war, two years ago, because the necklace called me back to my mission. I, also, had broken his heart.
"Your mission didnt quite align with the rest?"
"Hai."
"This is why I left my husband as well."
Toshizō perked up at this, surprised etched upon his face. "You were married?"
"Yeah. Sixty or so years ago", I confirmed with a sigh.
His eyes widened before understanding settled within their warmth depths. I had mentionned a warship in 1805. Now he knew.
"First love?", he asked.
I snorted self depreciatively. "Hardly. Second … or third, not too sure about that."
I was already a broken soul by then. If I was true to myself, I might even accept that I had married Stephen with half my heart, knowing our bliss could only be temporary. Because the one I wanted was out of my reach. A very unfair bargain in the first place, one I wasn't too proud of. Yet, I had held much affection for the man.
"You are full of surprises", he told me.
I suddenly yearned to speak, to unravel the full story of my crazy life as the Keeper of Time. To share the hardhsips of the past, and attempt to recontruct someone. Hijikata's earnest curiosity was so refreshing; he wouldn't judge me for the choice I had to make.
"Someday, when we have the time, I can tell you all of it. Then you can write a thousand poems to try and make sense of it."
"I'm looking forward to it, Kitsu."
This was the confirmation I had hoped to hear, and I didn't resist when he tugged at my hand to kiss me goodnight. It was but a peck, the slight lingering of warm lips over my own, but I already knew I would long for more.
I left his rooms, this evening, with renewed purpose. Only to be ambushed at the corner of my room by a set of Captains, slumbering away. Except for Saitō, who wasn't a gossip, most of them had piled up on the engawa. I roused them energetically.
"Baka, all of you. Next time at least, get in my room to shield yourself from the cold."
"There was no shouting, we got worried", Sōji smirked.
Blood ran up my face, settling upon my cheeks; fortunately, the night hid the blush effectively. Careful to keep my gaze hard, I only nodded to my friends.
"Fukuchō and I found a compromise."
One hell of a compromise, I dare say. But I wasn't about to elaborate on the kisses we had shared, and that little piece of hope that kept my heart beating against his as I cuddled him to death. The most important resided in the fact that we had cleared the air, and agreed.
"Good", Okita nodded. "You two fighting is like a storm unleashed."
I cocked my head aside, watching Sōji with new eyes. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn he hated seeing his commander fight someone else … like a child attending his parent's disputes. There was something unsettling in Okita's posture, and not only because I knew him to be a wildcard with a tendancy to unsheathe his sword at the slightest whim.
For the moment, though, Harada's raised eyebrows were interrogation enough.
"I'll go. Cover the team from the rooftop with my new toy, just in case."
Harada stood, clasping his hand over my shoulder. "Good."