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Warm. I was so warm, and my heart, for once, beat at a lazy pace when morning light greeted my eyelids. I hummed contentedely, basking in the peace that so seldomly graced my nights. Limbs like jelly, I slowly stretched the muscles, like a great cat rousing from slumber. My dreams had been pleasant; the sensation of strong arms locked around my frame bringing me solace.

For once, I had felt safe. Still, my mind refused to awaken entirely; there was a wondeful scent surrounding me. I didn't want to let go of this plush, reassuring heaven.

"Alright, Kitsu?"

My eyes flew open as I whirled around, finding Hijikata at his desk. A moment of puzzlement seized my foggy brain until I understood, at last, the origin of this faint, reassuring scent. Oh… I was actually occupying HIS futon, in his room. Damn… I bit my lip, nodding as gathered my legs to kneel upon the cotton filled mattress.

"You?" I breathed out.

A smirk lifted the corner of his lips.

"Surpisingly well, given the cramped space."

Toshizō's voice was low; I surmised he didn't want anyone to know about my intrusion out of respect for his captains.

I cocked my head aside, watching the tiny crumples of his purple hakamashita; we had slept entirely dressed, huddled against another. The memory – that I had thought a dream – of his lean body spooning me in the middle of the night rushed back.

When had he awakened? And most surpinsingly, how did he leave the futon without me noticing ? Had my survival instinct blanked entirely, I who would startle at the sligthest sound in the distance? Light sleeper, this is how my mother would qualify me. The slight pressure of her hand upon my doorknob usually roused me; she only had to touch it for me to awaken. It only went worse after becoming the Keeper of Time.

Either I'd been too exhausted, morally, to stir. Either I trusted Toshizō to keep me safe… Last option; he really was an Oni, and could teleport at will. This last though caused me to look at his very human – and handsome – features; there were circles under his eyes.

"I hope you managed to rest as well, despite … me."

"I did", he nodded, setting his brush down to crouch next to me. "You kept me warm."

Giddy, I gave him a tiny grin. At least, it was great to know I wasn't only a hindrance. His dark eyes watched my face, searching for signs of distress. I blushed under his scrutiny, wondering if I would be graced with more nights in his rooms. Intertwined limbs had done wonders to ground me into reality.

"Argiato gozamaishita", I bowed. "You've been very thougthful. I don't know how to repay your kindness."

Toshizō's eyebrows rose when he brushed a stray strand from my face. My hair probably looked a mess, and he smoothed it absentely for a moment. The repretitive movement caused my eyes to close. I almost purred like a content cat, lost in the caress.

"I've been called handsome before", he whispered. "Determined, harsh and unyielding and a demon. But kind isn't part of the usual vocabulary used to define me."

My eyes flew open, searching his earnest gaze. Fukuchō got teased by his captains, critiqued by the men, and feared by the rest of the world. The people of Kyōto called him an Oni, and I'd heard once or twice the men of Harada's patrol demean his iron fist reign.

"You hide it well, but it's still here. Your heart is gold."

My hand hoovered above his chest, hesitating. Would I dare initiating the contact? As he didn't pull away, I allowed my fingers to settle upon his chest, finding the soft thud beneath the layers of cotton and silk. His eyes travelled to the door behind me, unfocused like those of a man who revisited memories.

"Sanan calls me soft, and it is not a compliment. But sometimes, I wonder if he's the only one who sees me."

The lingering sadness of his tone caused my heart to clench, and I was reminded of pain and guilt. Hijikata's harsh exterior acted as protection for himself and the Shisengumi; he did whatever was needed to ensure his men's safety. I, on the other hand, had been unable to fulfil my duty.

"I'm sorry I wasn't up to your standards", I murmured, my gaze fixed upon the beautiful purple of his kimono. "I'm sorry that I couldn't kill that man to protect Kondō-san."

This called him back to reality as his fingers lifted my chin gently. Even through this feather like touch, I could feel my heart speed up.

"Kitsu…", he sighed. "That's our job, not yours. Keep your light, since we had to surrender ours."

I nodded sheepishly, unconvinced. Heisuke was now lying in a pool of his blood, or on his way to become a fury. Whichever his choice, he was about to disappear. The fact that Sanan, a man who had lost his humanity, had been the instrument of said choice didn't sit well with me. But the scientist always acted with a greater purpose in mind, and it sometimes scared me.

A great man … how far could he go?

"Is that what this was about, when I found you yesterday?"

I blinked all thoughts of Sanan away, and focused upon Hijkata's question. The panick attack was slowly receeding, and I suddenly felt the need to get it out of my system so that it couldn't reign my mind anymore. I took a deep breath, marvelling at the capacity of my lungs after a few hours of relaxed sleep. Spending half a night in the commander's embrace had truly done wonders for my health.

"Yes and no. It was…"

A spider.

"Don't laugh," I warned. His brow furrowed as if I had grown two heads.

"Certainly not laughing."

So many words were left unsaid. Such as 'certainly not with the state you were in', or 'you looked so pitiful.' I wasn't proud of myself. PTSD didn't take hold of me so often, and I usually managed to keep functioning. But yesterday … memories had teamed with that shortness of breath from the cyanide poisoning, and vanquished me without mercy.

So I started explaining how that stupid – not so little – spider had called forth memories of an attack in Lothlórien, the enchanted wood of the elves, where those giant beasts had woken me up and tried to make a meal out of me. I though I saw Hijikata shiver, for a moment, as I explained my story. Absentely, I dragged the cover over his legs to keep him warm.

This evening, I had felt how wiry his body was. It was little wonder he hated the cold. Toshizō –the man – feared it when Fukuchō would never complain about the weather. My gesture caused him to address me a shocked look; in this moment, realisation dawned in his eyes. Sanan was no longer alone in seeing through the armour.

Toshizō patted the cover beside him, allowing me to cuddle. I gently laid my head upon his shoulder, exhaling to get rid of the tension that tried, so hard, to claim my body anew.

"You're just cracking under the pressure, Kitsu. You've been attacked more than my men in the the past months, I'm surprised you didn't crumble down earlier."

I welcomed the compliment with fondess. Between my necklace, Itō's attacks, the Seppukku ceremony, Kondō's ambush, the poisoning and the accusation upon Harada … well, I was only taking the measure of the hardships that had befallen me … us. Yet, I couldn't say that my life usually was a walk in the park. But the crisis usually didn't last this long, and I found time to recover.

"I'm just starting to realise, yes."

"Life with the Shinsengumi is never dull", was his playful retort.

"Nope. To be honest, life with the fellowship or the knights wasn't either, and I get to sleep in a bed here… The comfort is better, especially by your side."

So why did it take such a toll upon me? Sleep in a bed … on my own. My past missions had taken us on the road more often that not. Men flanked my side in the wilds, and even though the environment was much more comfortable here, I found myself lonely most of the time. There had been such a tight bound in the fellowship.

Toshizō and I remained still for a moment, basking in the glorious light that filtered through the rice paper of the partitioning, sharing warmth in each other for a moment.

Later, I would remember those moments with fondness. As we trod through mud and landscape, fleeing, fighting for our lives, I would get back to this memory. But our quiet time was coming to an end, as the man beside me bristled and stood.

"I'm afraid I need to make an appearance for breakfast before Chizuru pops in with tea. The sun is up, and so is she. Will you join?"

I gave him a smile; we couldn't afford to be seen exiting his room together. I would probably crawl out later on.

"I… don't know. Can I borrow your desk for a moment?"

Hijikata nodded without even asking what I intended to do. He left the room, closing the partition behind him and I marvelled that he would allow me in his own lair without a warning, or a death threat. I bet he didn't really treat this room as his, for he had already allowed Chizuru and I to settle here after the Rasetsu's attack.

Still, I could be rummaging through paper work, or worse. Did he trust me that much? I hoped, from this day, that I would be the only one allowed to share his bed. The thought caused my lips to curl. Perhaps, next time, there could be less clothing involved? For such an uptight man, he initiated touch more often that I dared.

After all, if he had not kissed me, months past under the moonlight, I would have kept my regard hidden. Would it just take a few cups of sake to drag him into bed for a moment of discovery? Damn. A blush crept up my cheeks, and I pushed the though away to grab a brush and a sheet of paper. Then, with surprising little effort, I outlined the mighty shape of the eight-legged animal that plagued my nights. It was just a silhouette of those monstrous spiders that had attacked us in Lothlórien, but I felt that each tiny droplet of ink that seeped into the paper released its hold upon my traumatised mind.

The spider done, I painted the shape of tall man beside it, with a massive shield at his side, and a broad two-handed sword held against the beast. Boromir. Dead. By his side stood another man, just as tall and regal, Aragorn. Then a stout dwarf, Gimli. An elf, with long flowing hair and a great bow in his hands. Legolas, his silhouette overcoming that of the beast as it drew a deadly arrow. Haldir came next, his own bow held sideways. Dead.

The last line was just a series of bumps, halfway up the ground. Four hobbits that I would never see again, even though I now knew what had happened to them.

So lost I was in my drawing that time slithered by without my knowledge. I contemplated my art with misty eyes, tears sliding down my cheeks. Who would have recognised them? Aside from the fact that they didn't exist, in this world, I was also moderately talended at drawing. Yet, I liked this picture.

The noise of the door sliding open surprised me, and I blinked at the outline of Hijikata-san against the morning sun. A glorious sight, with his jet-black hair dancing in the breeze. He was holding a tray with tea, and two rice rolls. I smiled through my tears; was it wrong to prefer bland rice rolls to croissants ? Surely my French genes were rolling in their grave at the slight.

"Izumi no kami kaneda", he said, his gaze fixed upon the daishō set that had called for my attention. "He's a great swords maker. He made that katana for me last summer. True mastership."

The slight tone of satisfaction told me this blade held a lot of significance for him. I longed to pull the blade from its sheathe, but it would be a massive offense. Spending time on his futon was a nice step towards intimacy, but I knew a warrior would more readily allow a lady's touch on his manhood than allow her to touch his sword.

And this one certainly seemed important to him. I wondered why, when he surely had used quality blades in the past.

"What did you fight with before that ?"

His lips pinched in displeasure and I cursed myself for calling such a, expression upon his face.

"Hands me down, mostly. Family heirlooms as well. This is my first commandeered sword."

His features brightened then, pride lacing his sword. I marvelled at the absurdity of it all. That such a glorious fighter had to wait until summer 1867 to get his first true personalised sword was flooring.

The commander setting his quarry down and knelt beside his desk with a thoughtful look. It took but one glance at the paper for his brows to furrow comically.

"Are you serious? That big ?", he asked, incredulous.

I nodded with a chuckle as his aghast expression. From the looks of it, Fukuchō didn't quite appreciate eight legged animals either.

"I think I'd rather square off with a Kami. Tell me those things don't exist here."

His voice rose comically, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Was he being theatrical on purpose? I had noticed that, when relaxed – or drunk – Hijikata loosened up and became quite the personage. Perhaps he was only trying to dry the lingering tears that clung to my eyelashes.

"They don't."

"Thank Amaterasu", he groaned, the noise reverberating in his throat. "Who are they?"

"The fellowship I told you about."

Then I pointed at the men and elves, one my one, finishing with Boromir. When tears greeted my face once more, I ducked my head in shame. Boromir's death was a sore point, a great loss in my life. I had scarcely felt so helpless than when he fell, pierced by three arrows. Aside from Tristan's death, that is.

"Sorry", I sniffed. "I'm behaving like a girl."

"I also, have cried over friends lost."

This confession floored me as I was, once more, reminded of the trust he placed in my hands. Oni no Fukuchō wouldn't have revealed any weaknesses; the commander couldn't afford to have some for fear it might be used against him. The fact that Toshizō, the man, willingly shared such a fact was shock to me. He really was an 'all or nothing' sort of man.

Warm hands cupped my cheeks, forcing me to surrender the brush. I closed my eyes, and allowed him to wipe the tears away with his fingers.

"It's nice to feel useful", he murmured, kissing my lips. "To protect you from your nightmares. The Kami know I'd be having some if that thing had attacked me."

I laughed, grateful for his presence. Hijikata really hated spiders.