I'd say this is art therapy, a way for Kitsu and Heisuke to remember they are both alive.
My name was Heisuke Tōdō, and my heart still beat. Once, I had been the Shinsengumi artillery commander. Yes, artillery commander… we were no fools. The age of the swords was dying, and we didn't want to perish with it. But of course, I had to die in that ambush against Itō-san, the snake that had betrayed all my beliefs and used my doubts to lure me out of the only place I'd called home.
Today, the sun was hiding with the clouds, and I didn't feel its harsh light weighting down upon me. As I walked around, more aware than I had ever been, I wondered why I wasn't more spooked about becoming a Rasetsu.
I was still me, member of the Baka trio, and happy to be reunited with the Shisengumi as Itō had disappointed my hopes. But Tōdō Heisuke couldn't join his men for the usual drill, neither could he appear in the dojo to perform katas and traditional bushido.
As my feet carried me around the engawa almost silently, I sniffed the air – rain and damp earth –, observed the last leaves upon large trees, and heard the tiniest of flickers in the air.
I'd never been so attuned to my surroundings, never had such control over my body. My speed, my strength, my abilities had increased tenfold. And for the moment, the drawbacks – sensitivity to light, mainly – weren't quite enough to cause me regret.
Later … time would tell. I had been opposed to the Ochimizu from the start and now… I owed the elixir my life. I owed Sanan my sanity, as his research had modified the elixir to allow rasetsu to be more than soulless killers.
I was on my way to Kitsu's rooms; Harada told me she blamed herself for not being able to save me from that slash in the back. A deep gash from shoulder to hip that should have killed me. Poor Kitsu; didn't she know she had saved my life? That man she shot was about to slice my head off as I lay, writhing upon the ground.
A strange noise greeted my ears as I approached her room. First, she was panting heavily, and the slight smell of sweat reached my nose. Then, it seemed like something dragged on the tatami mats. I announced myself.
"Hairi", came an out of breath response, as curt as Hijikata's usual greeting. I frowned; was she experiencing another attack after the poison? Worried, I pushed the sliding door open, only to freeze upon the threshold. Kitsu was … spinning. And again. And again.
It was strange sigh; her body infused with so much energy as she whirled on one leg, the other wrapped around, then extended, then wrapped for another turn. Then two turns. Her face was red, her braid flying about, curling at the nape, her features determined as she watched the wall after each turn. Eventually, Kitsu stopped, panting heavily, and greeted me.
"Hey, Heisuke. I'm glad to see you."
Alive. But she didn't say it.
"What are you doing?", I asked, puzzled by the form of training she was going through.
"I'm working my balance center", she explained. "Those are called fouettés, and they aim at training the internal gyroscope that keeps you from falling over when you turn your head. Or climb on rooftops…" She paused, then, and grit her teeth in annoyance. "Or try to escape an irate Oni's blade."
When she started another set of turns, backwards, this time, her balance failed and she fell upon the tatami. I was by her side at once, yelling her name. She stopped me with a lifted hand, sitting awkwardly on the floor.
"It's alright, Heisuke-kun. I just can't master the turns in the counterclockwise direction. That's all."
"Perhaps your body is not healed yet. I heard… I heard what Itō-san attempted to do. I swear if I had known, I would have run all the way back here!"
Shame. Deeply rooted shame. Once more, I'd been the instrument of man who had attacked an innocent woman because she wasn't born in Japan. There would be no atoning for this, this time. Especially since I knew, now, that Itō had been the one behind the very first attack that left me with a major headache. Perhaps it was karma, after all, that placed both Itō-san and Kitsu-san on either side of my conscience.
"Don't worry. It'll come back. I just quit classical dancing too long ago."
The young woman sat, cross legged, with her pants – pants! – stretching at the knees. I felt my face heat up at her lack of manners; Kitsu was as blunt as they come, be it with words or actions. And to see her, sweat soaked, skin red, sitting like a man so casually caused my stomach to churn. Not to mention the strange clothes she wore, tight fitting so that her ample chest was more than suggested beneath the strechy fabric. This was the kind of setting too intimate for a pair of acquaintances.
But she only smiled at me, unfazed by the inappropriate situation, and I tried to relax as she swallowed a mouthful of liquid from a strange waterskin
"All right. So is that standard training for kunoichi? We do jujitsu, but not this kind of … acrobatics."
Kitsu smiled again, her long, reddish braid falling over her shoulder. That colour was so strange, as if dripped in blood.
"Ah no. This is called classical dancing, but it builds up muscles and is perfect to train balance."
I felt my eyebrows rise; is that what dancing looked like in the western world? It certainly looked weird. But then, maybe I wasn't the best judge.
"Dancing?"
"Yes. In my … place, there are competitions of that sport, gymnastics and dance coupled, called rhythmic dancing. You couldn't believe the things they can do."
I had seen Geisha dance; it looked nothing like close to this outpouring of movements. Still, I was now feeling pretty curious about what a full routine would look like. Maikos and Geikos always kept their feet hidden when performing; those were parts you could only discover if paying at the red light district. And I wasn't much of a user of…
Blushing, I shook my head.
"Well, our dancing is pretty different", I mused.
Kitsu showed herself pretty interested in the different types of dances Japan had to offer, and I was cornered into describing the sparrow dance of Sendaï.
"Show me?"
I reddened. "Aaaaah, no Kitsu", I exclaimed. "I am not a dancer."
She slightly winced at the tone of my voice – I knew I could raise the dead when I got excited –but otherwise pinned me with a serious gaze. In this moment, she reminded me of Hijikata's glare, the one where you had no choice but to say 'hai, Fukuchō'.
"Someone told me one day; if you can fight, you can dance", she added.
Her insistence pushed me into showing her what I remembered of the group that had once performed the Sparrow Dance in Edo. The moves came easier that I expected; my memory of a festival, seen years ago, was strangely clear. My muscles coiled, making me almost weightless as I bounded on the balls of my feet, stronger than ever. To think I should be buried, by now…
Kitsu watched with curiosity.
"Nice", she commented as I sat, power tingling in my veins. This new sensation was strange, as if it flowed to fuel my muscles and my mind.
For a moment, Kitsu remained there, her eyes lost in whatever reminiscence my performance had sent her. Would I dare asking? After all, Kitsu was way more tolerant than Fukuchō; she'd never yelled at me before my departure. Well, almost never.
So I gathered my courage and chanced it. "Do you think you could show more of yours?"
Kitsu eyed the room around me wearily. Then she shook her head.
"I'd need more space for a full routine. I can't jump here, I'm gonna crash the partition."
"We could use the training room, there's no one at night."
We never trained after the sun set, even though we could light up the lanterns. There was no room for error in Bushido; shadows could be treacherous. Kitsu sighed, eyeing me suspisciously.
"The rest is pretty boring, you know. It's just stretches, arabesque and attitude."
"Arabesque? Attitude?"
The foreigns words teased my tongue; I was pretty sure she was just trying to have me back off. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I realised that I needed to see life. To see her alive, as well, for I felt responsible for her poisoning though my defection to the Shinsengumi. A stupid notion, Sano-san had assured me. Even though he'd been the one to drag her to the infirmary, he didn't hold me responsible. Neither Fukuchō, for that matter. Still … if I had been there… If Itō had not won me in the first place, maybe…
"Please, Kitsu-san", I pleaded. "I need to remember what life looks like."
Her features flickered, a tint of sadness passing through her eyes before a resolved expression set in. "Aye that could do. But give me time to put a choregrahy together. And dont yell it over rooftosps. I'm rusty, and I tend to get winded. Don't expect too much out of it."
A mighty grin broke over my face; it felt good to smile.
"Got it. Arigatō, Kitsu-san."
The day next, Kitsu-san informed me that she wasn't ready, at all, to perform a small dance for my sake. She needed to train again, she said, and I understood at the sight of her gritted teeth that she still felt too weak.
"Take as long you need", I told her.
The woman bowed to me and returned to her training with renewed vigor. I decided that it was well time to face my saviour; Chizuru-chan. My absence, my doubts had weighed heavily upon her shoulders. And even though Okita's good health seemed to put her in a better mood, that Oni affair was still weighing her down.
To know that her father was responsible for Ochimizu, that he had never told her what his research entailed… I knew she hurt, this little sister in all but blood. So I took time to renew our acquaintance, and be the friend I should have been in the first place.
So many regrets … but Chizuru made it all right; she welcomed me back with open arms. We spent much time together, since I couldn't patrol anymore, I had aplenty. This night, as I suffered from the first bout of bloodlust, tearing at the seams, Chizuru was once more my saving grace. Her inner light shone like a beacon as she snapped at Sanan-san on my behalf, and administrated the medicine.
The very next evening, Kitsu-san came to me in the evening with a smile curling upon her lips. Had she talked to Chizuru about my bloodlust crisis? It didn't matter, for she dragged me out of bed without a single glance at my half naked body, and took me to the training room.
"This will hopefully remind you how to be alive", she whispered as we lit up the lanterns. "It sure as hell reminded me of it."
There was determination upon her face when she shed the heavy woolen mantle that usually covered her to the upper thighs.
I coughed awkwardly when her attire was revealed; she was dressed like a panther, exposed under a layer of dark material that clung to her skin far too suggestively.
"What the hell, Kitsu?", a voice boomed from behind me. "Undressing for Heisuke?"
She glared at Sano-san and Shinpachi, then lifted an accusating eyebrow in my direction.
"Manwë's breath, Heisuke! I told you not to spread it."
I shook my head vehemently, but it was Shinpachi who responded with his usual discretion.
"Like he could keep this from me."
Sano-san scoffed by my side, his arm landing upon my shoulders.
"Hey! Je suis ton Meilleur ami !", he said in french. Whatever you plan on doing here, ninja training or else, I want to be part of it."
"Especially dressed like that!", Shinpachi added. Then… "Ow!"
Sano's fist greeted his belly none too gently, and the big oaf bent at the waist with a grimace.
"No leering at Kitsu, even if she's half naked."
Instead of getting mad, the young woman only laughed. In the low lights of the temple, she looked like a shadow.
"Don't worry, you won't have time to ogle anything. Sorry that I have no music for this routine, I had one specific in mind. It's called 'unstoppable'."
Both Sano-san and Shinpat-san exchanged a puzzled look; albeit they had followed me, they had no idea what Kitsu-san was up to. But I felt giddy at the prospect because damn, she wore a determined face I'd only seen people sport in battle. This was as important to her as it was to me.
"What …?"
"Shut up, Shinpat-san", I snapped.
The tall man's jaw locked when Kitsu purposefully walked to the center of the training room and lifted her arms to the sky in a pose that reminded me of a tree. Or a priestess, calling to whatever Kami in the depths of the forest.
For a moment, my face heated up again. The tight-fitting clothes showed much more of her form when she stretched her hands to the sky like that. Then, my mind forgot abour her form altogether as she lifted her leg behind her, higher and higher, until it formed a near split. Even though her feet were too big for a woman – her waraji were one of my old pairs – they still looked pretty.
Then, she set her hands on the ground, and shifted her balance forward. I cringed, expecting her to fall, but her legs just passed over her head, and landed on the other side without a hitch. I'd only seen this in festivals; acrobats were sometimes supple as rubber.
Somehow, the rest of Kitsu unravelled at its suit with the fluidity of water, and she started performing a few steps with pointed feet. The way she kept moving on the ground, her foot half raised, while the other swatted to and fro without her balance shifting the slightest was an incredible show of strength.
She had yet to switch her support leg, but she smiled.
"Rooo", Shinpachi groaned at my side. Sano-san remained silent; perhaps he'd seen Kitsu performing such tricks in battle. But I was pretty stunned; her body was flexible beyond understanding, not in the martial way. I'd seen limbs bent at unnatural angles from battles, ninjas and martial arts experts doing pretty cool stuff, their features set in concentration and, more often than not, pain.
This was entirely different. Graceful, without an ounce of strain. It was meant to enthrall, and the long braid dancing with Kitsu only complimented the satisfaction that shone through.
There were figures I didn't understand, at all, but found mesmerising. Sometimes, her head nearly touched her … ahem. The trail of fire that was her hair gently swayed with the controlled movements. It was a slow dance, full of contained power, where arms and legs had a mind of their own. Where her torso twisted at nearly unnatural angles.
Kitsuneko, the Kitsu-cat.
Two more people joined us. From the corner of my eyes, I spotted a set of dark hair with purple hues, and a hakamashita that usually sent fear jolting up my spine.
"What the…", Hijikata started with his usual growl.
"Hush", Sano-san ordered.
Stunned, I awaited Fukuchō's explosion. But it didn't come, for his eyes were strained upon the young woman, as were ours. I had trouble taking my eyes of her moving form, the choregraphy haunting. Just a quick peek by my side, and I was surprised to see a blush upon Hijikata's cheeks. I smirked; too revealing for him as well, uh? The ever-proper Commander had probably never looked at a woman's body moving like this.
She was turning now, slowly, her leg lifted behind her, an arm raised high in a graceful arch, as if to reach the sky. I'd never remarked how long her legs were, especially when her toes curled inwards. Then … something picked up. Music wasn't necessary to spot the change for Kitsu's body suddenly started radiating energy.
She started a set of turns – the same ones she had practised in her room – and accelerated. There were all different but damn, she picked up speed and seemed to laugh. Then, she somehow ended up on her hands, twisted around, and took a few steps before she jumped. Her legs spread out in the air … flying.
This time, I heard Sano-san swear before she landed, and took her left leg in her hands, sending it to the sky to start spinning around it. A sharp intake of breath by my side told me Fukuchō was at loss. It was nice, somehow, to remember he also was a man. That he could still be surprised.
Kitsu was red in the face but she still danced. Celebrating life, making my body hum as hers twisted and turned, jumped and occupied this space that had become hers by right. She was a wave, a line ondulating around points of equilibrium that kept switching. Raw power, just like Hijikata-san but without the aggressivity. She enjoyed the exertion, enjoyed pushing her body to its very limits.
When she abruptly settled upon the wooden floor, her legs spreading in yet another split, Kitsu folded her graceful body over her knee and remained thus.
The end.
Her panting was the only noise in the silent night. Stunned, we tried to process whatever we'd just witnessed, and the possibilities of a human body. Her fighting skills suddenly made more sense; the woman could slither her way in an opening with the ease of a cat.
Hijikata broke the silence, thundering into the room, his face set in a frown.
"What the hell are you wearing, Kitsu?", he growled.
The young woman eventually unfolded her limbs, and lifted her eyes to the commander. She settled backwards on her hands in a nonchalant pose that only Sōji tended to muster, and grinned.
"Clothes… Did you enjoy the dance, Fukuchō?"
Shinpachi laughed out loud, and I couldn't help but smirk at her gall. Shouting matches weren't unheard off between the commander and our Kitsune; she seemed to be growing absolutely impervious to Hijikata's glares. I wished I could say as much.
We had to explain, of course, what this was about and I went to fetch Kitsu's mantle to keep her warm. Me, a coward? Given Hijikata's frown, better to allow her to explain rather than face his wrath. In the end, it was Saitō who actually broke the tension with his usual cusiority.
"If you wished to settle your energy, why not use katas? Surely it would be more efficient than this … dancing."
The young woman cocked her head aside, ignoring the barely veiled insult. Saitō-san, visibly, didn't appreciate the art. Bah … he was always so straight faced; sake and swords were the only thing of interest in his life of iaido. Kitsu-san, though, didn't seem fazed as she watched our comrade with interest.
"Katas? Could you show me?".
"Actually, we all know who performs them best", a new voice echoed from the shadows. I would have jumped if the smooth tones had not been so familiar. Sanan-san emerged from his hiding place and sent Hijikata a sweet smile that we all knew to fear. What the scientist wanted, the scientist got, whatever the means.
All eyes turned to the Vice-Commander, and I relished in the trapped expression that morphed his usually stern features into something more human.
"Nani… ?", he started.
Sanan bowed to Hijikata, smirk widening, then stepped to take his right, one yard behind him. An on cue, we spread upon the wooden planks, allowing the usual space between us as we got ready to follow our Fukuchō. The Vice Commander watched us, rooted in place. An undeciferable gleam shone in his eyes, but I swore I saw pride infuse his stance as he nodded.
"Very well", he relented.
I barely had time to see a smile split Kitsu-san's lips as she settled to his left, watching intently to reproduce the movements of the man who always mingled the Tennen Rishin-ryū style of one Kondō-Isami with his own homemade moves. Controlled, full of restrained power, focused. A full way of life, where the slightest move could mean survival or death. Where your mind was entirely dedicated to the performance, where the slightest mistake could mean your end.
Just like old times, we all fell into step with Hijikata, mindful of our breathing. The Shinsengumi captains attuned to their commander.