Kitsu comes with her peace offering... except that she's quite forgotten it was supposed to be one :)
Chizuru had done wonders with my meager savings, choosing a few mochi filled with azuki paste, and a bottle of shōchū made from Yuzu. The liquor, locked in a dark bottle, would be a discovery for me. Bathed, braids undone, I was currently watching the temperature of my simmering water to brew a fresh batch of sencha tea as per Chizuru's instructions.
Once the volutes of vapour start to rise, count to a hundred. Pour the water over the leaves. Count to two hundred, and you're done. So I was now counting in my head, trying to remain focused upon the tea leaves that unravelled in their bath of warm water. Except that my brain refused to remain idle.
Kondō-san would have my head for not following the Zen principles, but I just couldn't prevent myself from reviewing the previous hours. Patrols had gone fine; no one in sight. No trouble. Which, in itself, was pretty unnerving. The calm before the storm; Satsuma and Chōshū clans plotted at the imperial court. The Shōgun was staying put, probably trying to pull his own strings to keep some power as well. Or his head…
As a result, the streets of Kyōto were damp, cold and safe. I left Harada at his own house; he protested, of course, until the wails of his son echoed in the street. I headed back to headquarters, leaping over the rooftop to make my way in; most Shisengumi men ignored that I lived inside the compound. Better to keep them thinking I met with the commanders once in a while, rather than realise there was a woman at headquarters.
The light was dim tonight, despite it being the middle of the month – hence close to full moon. And tonight, I had an offering in forms of tea, and slight drink, and sweets.
Sneaking about like a kunoichi, I brought my tray to Fukuchō's door. It was the first time I initiated contact – willingly. Three days had passed since our discussion with Sanan, and I had scarcely seen him at dinner. The few looks we had exchanged were puzzling, at best; was Hijikata cross with me, or frustrated with the rest of the world?
Nonetheless, I had to admit that… I missed him. My heart skipped a beat when I knelt on the engawa, mindful of any presence. What if he sent me away, or laughed at me? Fukuchō never rested; I might not be welcome at all.
"Fukuchō," I called, my voice low.
Silence greeted me until a slight shuffle filtered through the partition. The shōji was thrown open, and Hijikata addressed me a stern look before he cocked his head in the universal gesture that meant 'get in'. Surprised that he had bothered to greet me in person, rather than use his usual 'hairi' – come in – that should have been assorted with a kudasai he never used.
I picked up the tray, and slid inside on my knees. The door closed behind me with its usual swishing, and I took in the state of Hijikata's room. Everything was neatly arranged, the futon not spread out yet despite the late hour.
As he spotted the tray, Fukuchō lifted an eyebrow.
"So, is that what you do with your money? Presents for Harada's son, and sweet to appease your irate commander?"
The sharpness of his voice sent warning bells down my spine; there was an edge, there, that told me to prepare for battle. How did he even know I'd bought a toy for Shigeru? Damn. He sure had reliable sources.
"Yes," I stated, my voice carrying the same edge. "That's what I do with it. Isn't it worth it?"
Hijikata didn't kneel; he remained standing next to the door, the lantern barely chasing the shadows away from his cheekbones. His deep, dark eyes pierced me and I shivered slightly. My body was slowly cooling down from the patrol.
"Did you bring some to Sanan as well?"
My eyebrows knitted in confusion; what did Sanan had to do with it? Hence my innocent question.
"What? No… Should I? Does he like sweets?"
The commander snorted then, sitting close to his desk with his legs crossed. Hostility radiated from him, and I bit my lip. Perhaps this was a bad time, and I should take my leave. But I'd worked so hard at preparing this tray that I was loath to turn tail. Hijikata frowned, pinning me with his gaze as his low voice washed over me.
"No. He would prefer sake."
It was my turn to snort.
"I'm not about to offer sake to a lone man if I don't want to spend the evening in his bed."
"Don't you?"
Realisation dawned upon me like a grand piano crashing from the sky. With the rumours of war, I had completely forgotten Hijikata's sours looks, but I now remembered how stiff his jaw had been when Sanan and I had left for his office, enrgosed in our discussion about the Japanese – Chinese - calendar. From sheepish, I turned into a she-wolf. I sprang to my feet in a crouch, one hand planted in the tatami mats.
"Is that what this is about? Why you're being so curt?"
I planted my eyes into his, and saw a flicker of panic pass through. Good; the man had some sense after all. Then, his features closed and the commander surged forth, pushing me back with his aura. "What if I am?"
I'm gonna make mincemeat out of you with my bare hands, I thought. Then, I'll be really lonely.
Anger fled my blood, replaced by sadness. His doubts wounded me, especially after going to such length to brew his tea to perfection, and bring him sweets and alcohol to share.
"You doubt my loyalty," I hissed, my eyes misting over as I stood. I turned to the door to blink the moist away. It hurts. Coldness descended in my stomach, and I clenched my jaw. "Sanan-san is my friend, and until you are alright with it, I'll leave you in peace. Goodnight."
I was about to slide the door open when his hand caught my wrist. I froze, wondering what he could really do to appease me. Muscles tensed under my skin; I felt ready to spring out of the room, and retreat to the rooftops. Slowly, his palm slid upon my bare skin as he intertwined our fingers together.
"Gomen," he started, his voice sheepish.
This word alone startled me: Fukuchō was apologising. Wow.
"I'm not used to women like…"
His voice caught before he could finish that sentence. Alright. I wasn't about to breach the topic of sexism with a martial commander of the 19th century, but my womanly genes were recoiling at that. Still… I didn't quite know what the women of his acquaintances were like. Eventually, he settled for a "You're different."
So I turned around and, finding his earnest eyes, couldn't resist. I sat in front of him, gesturing for the tray, and sternly ordered.
"Speak. I'm listening."
His lips twitched in amusement before the serious expression returned.
"You are terrifying, Kitsu. Worse than an Edo woman."
The fact that this was a compliment should have shoved me away from his room, but after Tristan … anyway. Yet, I wasn't about to let slide his fit of jealousy. I pursed my lips in a thin line, and waited. It didn't take long for him to sigh, and let go of my hand.
"I've never seen Sanan so relaxed around someone. Especially since his arm was injured and he became…"
"A Rasetsu?"
"Hai. Your entente is puzzling, and you speak of things neither of us can grasp."
"So we're both brainiacs, and have our…", I paused, better not to pronounce the word orgasm right now. "Ahem, we love equations. So what? I didn't take you for the kind who despised nerds."
Hijikata scowled. "I don't …!" Then, he passed hand over his features, and I noticed how tired he looked. "I respect intelligence, but Itō and Serizawa always threw their education in my face. I'm just…"
"Not used to have a woman more theoretically educated than you are?"
"Actually, I find most women more intelligent than I am."
He wasn't joking, and I noted to ask about the women in his life. Especially the one that had raised him. His hand landed upon his knee, playing with the fabric as he looked for the right words.
"Kitsu, you are something else altogether. Sometimes, Sanan is the only one that makes sense of you."
Yeah, well… I was strange in my own world too. But this wasn't the issue here, right? I averted my eyes a moment, too distracted by his piercing gaze to think clearly. Suddenly, the real reason behind Hijikata's unsettled behaviour cleared out.
"You feel … inadequate?"
He just nodded. I huffed and threw a mochi in his hands, pouring some lukewarm tea with a shake of my head. The man accepted the offer with a puzzled look while I looked for the proper words. Unfortunately, diplomacy was not part of my skill set.
"You are kidding, right?"
Hijikata cocked his head aside, and I sighed in defeat.
"You know you sometimes lose me when you strategise. Your own intelligence lies elsewhere, and I am so very often floored by your courage."
"Kitsu…"
Somehow, the idea that this incredible man could doubt himself really pissed me off, and I waved my mochi above the tray with conviction.
"Get a goddamn mirror, Toshi! You are more adequate than any samurai out there. They should be honoured to have you amongst their ranks, not the other way around."
Caught by my indignation, I realised I was panting. And that the man sitting in front of me had paused in shock, his cup of tea halfway up his mouth. Eventually, though, he chuckled.
"You certainly always know to voice your opinions."
Yeah, my physics teacher thought so too. Don't think she liked it much.
My shoulders slumped as I flushed, hoping that my voice had not carried too far away. Fortunately, the rooms around Hijikata's and Kondō's were mostly empty … included the one where my blade had passed through the tiles.
"Gomen. I didn't mean to make such a ruckus. I just wanted to point that Sanan and I are geeks, and his knowledge also gives me an anchor. It's like he is sitting halfway through between the Edo period and my world."
"I see what you mean. Keisuke is a man of the future, when I am a man of the past."
"I don't…", I started. Think so? Then I paused, my mouth hanging open.
I took a sip of tea to keep my countenance. This what had happened on the Surprise, the man-o-war I landed in 1804. I had married Stephen Mathurin, the surgeon, because he fell in love with me. Because we could speak of science, night and day, and never get tired of it. His views on evolution were pre-Darwinian, he was a genius in his time.
The necklace had called me back less than a month later; goodbyes had been difficult at the time; I still held much fondness for the doctor who had known, all along, that our bliss would be cut short. But I now realised I had been a lonely soul seeking companionship. Poor Stephen, used by a little fairy with long reddish locks, not unlike his mother's hair.
I buried my face in my hands, ashamed that the realisation came so late. I had used Stephen unfairly … and his character reminded me of Sanan. Hence the connection between us. Still, there had not been a bad bone in Stephen's psyche. He was a doctor, dedicated to his patients; a man who cared for life, and went to great lengths to preserve it.
Sanan was another story. The Colonel was dangerous to another level, battling his urges, his instinct with embedded morals. Who would win that internal struggle, in the end? The Rasetsu or his loyalty? Hijikata remained silent, watching my face intensely.
Eventually, I huffed in annoyance. There was no use dwelling on the past. I would ask for Stephen's forgiveness in a prayer, and hope his spirit heard me from up there. In the meantime, I was proud of myself for moving on, and not hitting on the scientist this time. Would Hijikata understand my plight?
"Sanan and I see brain to brain, if not eye to eye," I explained, the cup of tea keeping my hands busy. "I have my reservations about his research, but it's not like I can do anything to make him change his mind. Better to stay close than be ignorant of what happens."
Hijikata's features morphed; I couldn't read him.
"Rasetsu are bad news … but I hate to say they might be our only advantage…", his voice trailed there, before he added in a very low voice. "So keep your sneaky relationship with MY friend, but don't pour his sake, alright?"
A smile broke over my face at the possessiveness of his tone.
"Tch, men," I snarked, reaching for the bottle of liquor to uncork it.
"Tch. Women," he responded with a discreet smile.
Tomorrow my son is getting a heart surgery. It had been a long time in the coming, and should be fine. To all of you who know how to pray, I'll be grateful if you do think of him fondly. He's a little different, but such a light in this world !