Too late. I'd been too late for Heisuke, too winded to jump from rooftop to rooftop and position myself readily enough. The shot had not missed … but the bullet that had taken down his opponent was just too late to avoid the slash that now marred his back.
I'd seen the damage, held his hand as they took him back to the compound. Heisuke had barely recognised me in the sea of pain, his teeth locked to avoid screaming at every step that his comrades took to bring him back.
I had not followed into the sick room, exchanging a desolate look with the other two members of the Baka trio that had faithfully remained by Heisuke's side. On my way out, I had spotted Sanan-san, jaw locked, and lips set in a grim line. There had been no doubt about what he would offer; Ochimizu was Heisuke's last chance.
Another failure.
Itō-sod was dead, pierced by many, many blades. But not mine. I wouldn't mourn his death; that bastard deserved everything a thousand times over. And his passing had been swift. Albeit I had watched from afar, I didn't consider myself a murderer. Was the light within me still alive, as Hijikata said? Or was I too far gone to be saved?
Propped on a high branch of the Sakura tree, I reflected upon the year that had just passed. I had learnt, suffered, trained, improved my skills and gained friends and foes alike. Most of all, I was soaking into a culture I used to know nothing about, and found it beautiful.
The tree slightly rustled as someone ascended below me, a familiar updo bouncing about as the branches protested against the warrior's weight. Should I warn Okita that Sakura trees were brittle? Tch. He probably knew better than I did. My gaze returned to the last rotten leaves. Eventually, everything returned to the earth.
"Nee, no wonder Harada calls you Kitsuneko."
He did?
Kitsucat, why not. I loved cats. And it would be better than Kitsufail. I slighty turned to Sōji who had climbed on a branch below mine. I cocked my head aside without dignyfing his teasing with an answer; Sōji could only be counterattacked with silence. Everything else was doomed to fail, for his superior wit and total lack of boundaries always led him to the kill.
Whether by the blade or with his words, Okita Sōji was a dangerous man. Though, he was somewhat mellowed by Chizuru's gentle care. Or perhaps that earning a second life gave him perspective on his initial views of the world?
"I don't understand your choice, Kitsuneko. But it's good that you still have it. We don't."
Was he trying to nail me, or understand me? I just nodded, and responded in kind.
"I know, and I appreciate that."
He may interpret it as he willed. We could have danced around each other for a while if the most terryfing of even had not occurred, right there, right now. When Okita's eyes focused behind me, observing what probably was a cloud, or a bird, I didn't worry. There was no fear in his gaze, no rush of adrenalin, no tension of his muscles. Why fear?
Why, indeed.
Eventually, I turned around to follow his line of sight and froze.
There, less than a yard away from me, crawled a spider with yellow hues across its belly. Long, windy legs that allowed it to progress too fast for my brain to catch up.
The memory of giant spiders in a dank forest assaulted me. Of my catatonic body after nearly dying on that high platform the elves called a talan. Of that panic that had crushed my chest, and send my mind in overdrive…
The tightness returned at once, and I couldn't even gasp. Cyanide, or panic attack? Suddenly, the ghost of the past resurfaced. Monsters attacking in the dark, Nazgûls oozing despair, eating light and hope around us. Saxons, burning and killing babies holding to their mother. A dark lake swallowing me in its icy depths.
Damn, I nodded to snap out of it. My breath grew ragged as I watched the embodiement of my fears – this tiny spider, not so tiny after all – approach.
Okita started laughing at my appaled expression; I barely heard his cough-free mirth under the harsh beating of my heart. I couldn't speak, couldn't call for help. I knew the spider to be a symbol, a stupid little animal that called for past memories. Try as I might, I couldn't escape them, and I found myself calling to Sōji with all the light of my terrified gaze.
His frown caused hope to soar in my heart; did he understand my plight? The crippling pain in my chest caused me to fold upon myself. I nearly toppled over the branch, but the only though that passed through my mind was 'Good, if I fall, I'll be away from the spider.'
Stranded in body and mind, I didn't even want to retrieve control over my body, for it would mean face the spider. That tiny, crawling animal that concentrated all my fears. A hand touched my back and I jerked; Okita's body held me in place as he pulled the wakizashi out of his belt, pushing the animal away with the sheath.
"There, it's gone. Don't worry, it doesn't bite."
His voice was low, and devoid of his usual snarkiness.
"I'll help you climb down."
I nodded through the mess of my vision. Were those tears that streamed down my face? Gently, Okita led me down the tree, moving my feet with his hands until I touched the ground.
"You need to stop climbing in trees Kitsuneko. You'd be better suited in the kitchen, your pasta thing was delicious. When do we get more?"
I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, but my vision didn't clear. My mind was swimming, the lack of oxygen affecting my senses and comprehension. I sunk upon a stone bench, and didn't even realise that Okita was gone when Yamazaki popped up in my field of vision. The appointed Shinsengumi nurse asked a few questions, forcing my brain to work. But despite my consistent answers – no, I wasn't hurt, yes, I'll be allright – the coldness didn't leave my bones.
He dragged me to dinner, arguing that a miso soup and rice would do wonder for whatever conditions he'd diagnosed. I followed obediently, utterly silent, trying to crawl out of the well of despair that stupid animal had pushed me in. Oblivious to Okita and Chizuru's worried glance, I found myself eating rice rolls to try and warm myself up.
Moria. Walking in the dark, the only light that of Gandalf, and the fading glow of an elf who has saved my life countless times. The emptiness of the mines, death, a demon of fire and devastatingly ugly goblins. Skulls, skeletons, darkness.
My whole spine stiffened and I shuddered.
The bite of rice got stuck in my throat. I tried to wash it down with herbal tea. To no avail, it remained, stuck in my oesophagus. Stress symptoms, the doctor had called it. It had a scientific name, of course, one I couldn't care less about. I waited, the pain diffusing in my upper throat as the rice refused to go down.
I could still breathe, so I just remained still, indifferent to the buzzing of voices around me. It hurt like bitch, though. At last, the knot eventually loosened, and I was able to swallow the rice roll. I wouldn't try another one, and took my revenge on miso soup.
I should have praised Chizuru's skills, and Saitō's tofu, but I wasn't able to find a single positive though in my mind.
"Harada", Hijikata commanded, his voice reaching out in the sea of dark thoughts. "You're on your own this evening."
I found Fukuchō's gaze and nodded my assent.
"Kitsu-san", Chizuru attempted from her seat beside Okita. "You look a little pale. Perhaps you should go and get some rest."
I stood at once, bowing to the room as I left. I just couldn't express the mess of my thoughts, it was all jambled. The only thing I knew what that I couldn't sleep. If I did, nightmares would assault me. Relentless, they would torture me until I woke screaming and sweating. Night had spread upon Kyōto already, and I lit the lamp with determination. Tonight, I couldn't allow sleep to overtake me.
My consciousness was the only thing keeping the nightmares at bay. Lost in despair, I couldn't afford to give more ground to that disease they called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Despite the progress, the shortness of breath remained since the poisoning, and my heart tended to race. Stupidly, I wondered if the terrors woud kill me altogether. I sure would die of a heart attack if I slept. This is how, when everyone had gone to bed, I settled outside with a metal plate and a coin.
If I fell asleep, the coin would fall upon the plate and wake me up within seconds. The cold, as well, would prevent me from slumbering. Already, monsters filled up my field of vision. Eight legged animals, for sure, but all those I had met in the course of my travels. Humans, and … other kind. Rasetsu, spectra, ghosts, anything. I shivered; the coldness of the Nazgûl was closing in on me.
Tristan's heart stopped beneath my palm, Isolde giving piercing goodbye above us. Shattered, I was shattered.
Halbarad's son, his blood drenching the battlefield as I held his hand.
Brothers, fathers strewn apart, disfigured, slashed, hacked.
A baby, pierced by a blade upon his mother's bosom.
My first kill, hesitant, messy, hands shaking upon a gladius.
The elvish sword called to me, its warmth too distant to light my path. My mind was but a maze, I didn't know north from south anymore, could I escape before the monsters got me first? A familiar cry sent cold dread in the pit of my stomach, a shriek so monstrous that it felt like nails breaking a chalkboard.
Nazgûls!
I whimpered. My very bones turned to ice as I started shaking. There were here, those nasty spectra that sucked every ounce of hope out of humans. Hadn't they perished with the rings? I could almost feel their icy breath upon my neck.
I was coughing blood, my lungs pierced, in the Vice Commander's arms. So much that it tainted his uniform, and poured like a waterfall out of my mouth. I couldn't breathe, blood gurgling inside me.
"Kitsu !", his deep voice called.
Drowing, I was drowing once more. But in my own blood. The crimson trail was the only source of warmth as his beautiful eyes watched me die. Helpless. I realised, then, that I would never go home. Where would they bury me? In that battlefield, or under a tree? Toshizō called out to me, frantic, commanding me to hold on. Purple hues buried deep within swirling pools. I was too far gone to care; perhaps someone else awaited on the other side, eh?
Tristan had promised, after all…
"Kitsu", Fukuchō's worried voice rumbled once more.
Would my parents miss me? Would they understand why I had chosen to become the Keeper of time? Resent me for my disappearance? Accept that I was dead, despite never finding my body? How would little brother fare without his sister? I should have left him a longer note … told him how I loved and admired the man he was becoming.
Another shake, and this voice again. "Kitsu, damnit !"
I started when warm arms surrounded me. Out of the darkness, a slight beacon of hope burnt bright. Eyes blurred, I squinted in the darkness; the lamp had gone out. Dark eyes searched my face, straight hair dancing around a defined jawline. Behind him, though, I saw a familiar silhouette. A scout, clad in shabby leather, warrior braids in his hair, unnerving gaze piercing me through.
"Tristan ?", I murmured, stunned.
Someone shook my shoulders, and I had to focus upon the angry man that was forecefully asking for my attention. No, not angry … worried.
"Kitsu…"
My nickname again, then a grumble about sleeping outside. Hijikata's voice was barely a growl, but it soothed my aches with incredible efficiency. I latched upon his ramblings as if my soul depended on it.
"I'll call Yamazaki", he said.
Dread coiled in my stomach. If he dropped me to Yamazaki… the man would dose me with a sleeping draught. The very thought sent my heart tumbling in side my chest. Throat closing in fright, I shook my head vehemently.
"No", I croaked, fingers grabbing a fistful of silk. "No sleep. Please."
I wasn't above begging, so terrified by the perspective of nightmares. My earnest plea caused Hijikata to pause as he laid a hand upon my brow. The warm touch distracted me from the familiar pain that constricted my chest.
"You're shaking. Are you sick? Baka", he huffed. "Sitting outside in this weather."
Somehow, his rightful anger shook me out of my haze long enough for my brain to kick in. Was it the familiar tones of exasperation? Hijikata's anger, my saving grace… My despondent attitude seemed to decide him to get help. I panicked.
"No!", I almost yelled, grabbing the sleeve of his kimono in a vice grip.
He paused, towering over me as I struggled to my knees. Damn, I nearly didn't feel my legs anymore. "Don't leave, please."
He knelt, once more, by my side. The faint moonlight wasn't enough for me to distinguish his features, but his eyes commanded all my attention. At last, I took a deep breath, and was surprised to be able to do so.
"Panick attack. Memories."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and I was surprised to find no pity. Who else, better than a warrior, to grasp the concept of PTSD?
"I'll regret this", he sighed, his low tones causing me to shiver. Then, his arms sneaked under my knees and he lifted me, carrying me away on the engawa. I marvelled that my weight didn't hinder his progress, or that his feet didn't make a sound on the wooden planks that so often betrayed my passage.
All I could think about what the warmth of his presence, and the strength of his arms as he pulled the shōji of his rooms open with a foot, and laid me down upon his futon. The sheets smelt like him, undisturbed yet as the lamp burnt beside a mountain of papers.
If I had been in possession of my mind, I might have frowned that he was still awake, tending to yet more work. But in my pitiful state, I only stared at the dancing flame as he pulled the covers over me in an attempt to warm me. I was an icicle in a flurry of warm coton.
"You would have frozen out there", he scolded me, his hands rubbing my limbs energetically from above the blanket. I watched, mesmerised, as his lips parted while he worked, brow furrowed in worry.
"Better than die in my sleep", I mumbled.
Toshizō send me a shocked look, as if he was taking the full measure of the traumas that haunted me. A resolved gleam shone in his eyes when he threw the covers up, and slid beside me. Then, his arms wound around me and held tight. My face crushed against the purple silk of his hakamashita, I inhaled deeply.
"Breathe, Kitsu".
His voice was but a rumble that reverberated from his chest to my frame. The sound washed over me, followed by his deep, even inhales and exhales. Slowly, my ragged breathing started to follow his pattern. Little by little, the coil that ensared my chest loosened, and the pain receeded.
Tensions left my body as a mighty sigh escaped my lips. Beneath my ear, the gentle thud of his heart lulled me. Soon, his breathing was the only noise in the room, it filled me with a deep sense of safety.
One of the mightiest warriors was watching over me, keeping me warm, and surrounded. Deep down, I trusted him to keep the monsters at bay.
"I'll guard your sleep", he only said.
And I believed him.
As usual, drop a word if you liked or disliked it.