Sorry I've been delayed. Last week, a small child very close to my heart died from brain bleeding. I have been in close contact with his parents, my precious friends, and spent a few difficult days.

My mouth opened, then closed. Several times. I blinked tears away, willing them to subside as I lifted both hands to receive the inestimable present that was presented to me.

"Domo arigato gozaimasu," I whispered, bowing low. Those were the only words that passed my clenched throat before I choked on my words altogether.

Kondō smiled, both hands extended as he held one the most beautiful presents I'd ever been offered. His eyes twinkled with pride, light brown nearly turned golden in the morning light. His cheerful manners never failed at cheering me up.

He laid the wakizashi in my palms, blade facing him, hilt on the left. I gaped slightly, watching how incredibly beautiful the dark polished wood of the sheath was. Carvings at the hilt called for my attention, and I lost myself in the contemplation of my new sword.

The other captains watched the proceedings in silence – for once – and my ragged breath was the only true noise that filled the room. Stunned, I was totally stunned. For a moment, I just didn't know what to do with myself. The last blade I'd been gifted with was the elvish sword; it was no less significant. And today, Kondō-san was offering, on behalf of the Shinsengumi, the second blade that a samurai must wear at his hip. Harada was the only one who didn't wear a wakisahi, for he fought with the Naginata.

"I can never thank you enough," I bowed again.

Sanan's voice filtered in the room, and I felt blood rush up my cheeks.

"Given how you dance, we decided that you should have your own daishō. Saitō has offered to teach you left-handed parries."

I turned to the third squad captain with a grateful nod; he received the mark of respect with barely a twitch of the eye. The others held different expressions, from outward glee to surprise. Harada's grin, especially, reflected brotherly pride. His sturdy presence helped me regain composure, and I lifted the sword in my left hand before I turned back to the commanders.

"You certainly how to talk to women."

Hijikata snorted, his face straight as ever, but a ferocious gleam in his eyes.

"We know how to talk to warriors."

His voice rumbled in the room, causing a few snickers to roll behind me.

"Izumi no Kami," he added, causing a few gasps to fill the room.

I gaped, catching his gaze for a moment. His face remained neutral, but his eyes sparkled with mischief at the memory of our first night together. Hijikata had transcended his satisfaction with the sword maker by commissioning my own wakizashi to the same man… the significance of such an act rattled my bones, and I turned to Kondō with a bow.

"This is a kingly present, Kondō-san."

"An offering to the Kitsune spirit," he responded.

I caught his meaning well enough. I was part of the Shinsengumi, and would fight for them. The better I was, the more protection I could provide our men with. Resolve set my jaw, and I promised to myself that I would train to exhaustion to master two-handed techniques.

And my blade's new abilities.

Well, young lady, time to suit up. The world's waiting for you.

And suit up I did. Saitō was relentless, teaching me to use the wakisahi with my left hand. Everything was reversed compared to the standard techniques. The aim was for me to create muscle memory for my left side, using the wakizashi. Training was harrowing, and my arms ached. Saitō got me to repeat the same slice and dice move a hundred times a day until I could do it in my sleep.

When he was satisfied, the true work started; I wasn't about to fight left-handed like him. Not with two hands upon the hilt, that is. What I wanted was to be able to use both hands independently, one with my elvish blade, and the other using the one-foot half-length of the wakizashi. Some samurai used two swords technique, of course, but none that involved the moves I could perform with my elvish blade.

The dynamic would be different, since the elvish sword was next to unbreakable. It allowed for bolder moves, crazy parries that no katana could sustain.

It put off Saitō, at first, but his enthusiasm grew as we started mixing what he knew of two swords techniques, and my own experience with Legolas' twin knifes. Together, we created parades, attacks and routines that almost seemed like a dance. Blades crisscrossed and twirled as we worked. Many a time, they just clanged against each other because of a wrong move.

It pissed me off, but Saitō brushed it off easily. He countered my frustrations with stern words.

"New techniques need training."

Yes, I had strong knowledge of sword fighting which caused my reflexes to kick in often enough. Thrusts, stances and parries came easily. But the act of correlating both arms threw me off balance. I'd never cursed so much in my life. If I could play the piano, mayhap I could learn to use both sides independently, right? A girl could dream.

Whenever he got time to spare, Harada watched us train in the captain's garden. He came to encourage me, hoping that his sunny disposition would save me from Saitō's cold moods. At first, he sanded a bokken to chop it off and narrow its blade to create a replica of my wakizashi. Japanese blades were fragile when hit from the side; I couldn't train with it, and the bokken was both heavier and longer.

A week later, I brandished my new fighting armada, wooden sword in the right hand, and carved wakizashi in the left.

I smirked manically, and Sanosuke sent me a feral grin that displayed his teeth. A true wolf of mibu… This was going to be good.

I was grateful for his support, and wondered if I should actually tell him about what had transpired between Hijikata and myself. If he learnt of our affair from someone else, would it hurt him? Would he consider it lack of trust, or just shrug it off as lady's stuff?

Clang !

The wooden wakisahi flew from my hand, and I found myself pinned by Saitō's steady gaze.

"Concentrate," he just told me.

Damn, the man was ten years younger than I was, and could command me like a puppy. He could have been Hijikata's son…

The idea caused me to smirk, and I barely avoided a strike. Well, time to square up. I took a deep breath and found my stance, right sword at the front, and wakizashi held over my head. A strange sense of power infused me when I realised I could deal death with both sides of my body now.

Self-defence had taught me that elbows, knees and fingers could be equally dangerous. I didn't mind going to the contact since I was smaller, and usually faster than unsuspecting opponents. Yet, holding two blades in my hands like a samurai gave me a new sense of belonging. At last, I felt worthy of the Shinsengumi. Worthy of obeying Oni no Fukuchō's order. Worthy of protecting Kyokuchō.

Saitō's slash came swiftly; I was ready. My blades crossed, blocking his in a deft move. Before he could react, I pushed them both in his face. As he stumbled backwards, my swords swished out in a wide arch that would have slashed anything in a yard's radius, including his chest.

The third captain nodded with satisfaction; he was dead, and happy with his own work.

"Good, Kitsu-san. A hundred of those, and we'll work on another tomorrow."

"Keep it up, and you'll be as good as Hattori[1]," Harada commented. "Although I killed the man the night Itō … ahem. I really respected his skill at fighting both hands."

Whether to remind me of the incident, or to praise me, Sanosuke was hitting a sore spot. So I gave him a shy smile and bowed to my instructor, thanking him for his time. I was truly grateful that Saitō, the best swordsman beside Okita, took so much of his time for me. After his so called defection, Hajime had not retrieved his spot as third captain yet, but he still had other duties.

Kyōto's streets now belonged to our enemies, and patrols were becoming more dangerous. Saitō was probably itching to cover his men. The younger man, ever stoic, graced me with a look of acknowledgement. Most of our communication didn't use words. Good; I would never admit how my arms ached from his relentless training. Better to dwell on honing my skills rather than my screaming muscles.

It was pretty hopeless to dream of a massage; Hijikata tolerated my cuddling gruffy, even though I sometimes suspected him to enjoy it, but he wasn't about to turn into a charming masseuse. I sheathed the wooden wakizashi with care, mindful to keep the blade facing upwards – to avoid damage on real blades. Albeit I trained with the bokken, my elvish sword still rested at my hip. Saitō suddenly took a step towards me, his face constricted in a strange expression.

I froze, wondering what I had done wrong. True, those two swords at my hip felt awkward at the moment, the additional weight and volume unusual to me. Tying them up had necessitated a new sash – a men's one. Those guys had no problem piling up layers, but I hated feeling constricted. For a moment, I wondered how I was about to unsheathe it with the elvish leather armour.

"Saitō-san?"

The man actually blushed, causing my eyebrows to climb upon a sweaty forehead.

"I … em. I would not wish to pressure you in the slightest, Kitsu-san. Sumimasen…"

I watched the captain, realising he'd never used sentences so long until now. The fact that he was apologising, and not even finished yet was slightly worrisome. He bowed, then exhaled before he went on.

"If in any way, you feel like you are obligated to heed my request, please do not hesitate to say so. However, to avoid any regret, I fear that…"

I exchanged a startled look with Harada who looked slightly amused. This effectively stopped my instructor short. He sighed, and I felt bad for interrupting him, but I needed to know what had suddenly flustered him like a maiden.

"Saitō-san, what the hell are you rambling about?"

"I … I apologise for my nervousness, for what I am about to ask might seem slightly inappropriate."

What the hell. Cold, composed Saitō wouldn't dare proposition me in front of Harada, right? The strictest follower to the code, Hijikata's most fervent supporter… He never would, wouldn't he? His cheeks were dusted with pink, and his eyes captured me in their depth. I could only stare, awaiting for whatever question he wanted to ask.

"Go ahead," I nodded, bracing for impact.

"Would you allow me…"

The effort it took to avoid snapping at him to be out with it nearly killed my self control … but I waited, with bated breath.

" … to examine your sword please?"

Those last words were assorted with a deep bow. I heard Sanosuke muffle his laughter – he and I were thinking the same thing – and I struggled so hard not to snort. Swords. This was it was about. And not in the sexual way. Saitō wanted to feel my elvish blade.

"Of course, Saitō-san."

The young man lifted his head, eyes wide with hope. He looked like a kid in a candy store, so enthusiast that I smiled broadly. I didn't entrust my weapons easily. Especially this sword. But to a passionate man like Saitō, I could allow five minutes of bliss.

Would he feel how special this blade was, or would it seem just technically different? I couldn't wait to hear his analysis. Was the blade bound to me, alone, or would it sing for him?

Saitō was frozen, and I unsheathed the elvish sword carefully and laid it in his hands. Then, I stepped back, feeling strangely empty. As I retreated to the engawa to sit by Harada, muscles screaming in pain, my eyes watched the young man.

"Orgasme," Harada mouthed by my side, in French.

I shook my head, biting my lip. Of course, of all French words I taught him, he always remembered the dirty ones. Typical guy; reminded me of my naughty neighbour but Saitō's awed features were worth a picture. I'd never, ever, seen him so transfixed. The sword was barely in his grip, and he was already gone to heaven.

"May I?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"It has a unique balance and dynamic. I trust you, Saitō-san. Test it."

I swore stars exploded in his dark eyes as he lifted the blade. Then, his hands fumbled for the right position.

"You can use either hand, or both," I instructed him. "It's a sword meant for close combat with numerous enemies."

The young man just nodded, twirling the blade once, twice on either side of him. Then he became a flurry of movements, a deadly dancer whose weapon swished in the air like a cord. I watched jaw agape, as Saitō and my sword created a world of their own. If his movements were graceful with a katana, he became as fluid as a river with the heritage of the Valar guiding him.

Damn. He was a much better fighter than I was. Sanosuke's slack jaw, by my side, told me he was as surprised as I was. I shrugged. The spectacle was worth watching. I wished I had a cell phone to record it, no matter what the consequences. In my effort to avoid time paradox and timeline issues, I took as little modernity as I could when I travelled back.

But this … this would have done millions of views on YouTube. Shit. I wished I could commit every move to memory, but he was impossible to follow. His feet danced, his stance always balanced, turning and swirling. The blade went from right hand to left, sometimes passing through a double-handed grip, reverse, as was his way.

I realised that the elvish sword would be perfectly suited to his style, he who was shunned for being left-handed, and stubborn enough to refuse fighting the other way around. What courage, what conviction it must have demanded. I was in awe of a man younger than I was.

A first.

Heavy feet stomped on the engawa, causing Saitō to pause. Both Harada and myself turned to see Shinpachi approaching, his usual vest too open for the beginning of winter. The man plopped down beside us with as little grace as a bear could muster, and Saitō unfortunately took this as his cue.

As he returned the blade to me, I wondered, briefly, if I should show them my magic trick. But Saitō's heartfelt thanks interrupted my line of thoughts.

"I can never thank you enough for entrusting…"

The young man's eyebrows knitted in a puzzled expression.

"… what's its name?" he asked.

I slightly reddened as I grabbed the sword and returned it to my hip.

"Er … still thinking about it."

"You haven't named your swords, Kitsu-san?"

"What ?" Harada scoffed, humour dancing in his eyes. I swatted his arm, and sheepishly shook my head. This whole naming thing was disrespectful, and swore to myself that I would find appropriate ones for the two beauties resting at my hip. So I ignored the baka duo comments to turn to the young sword nerd.

"Help would be welcome, Saitō-san."

The man's lips pursed, and he bowed to me once more.

"It would be great honour to help you name a legendary blade such a this."

"Arigatō gozaimasu," I responded with a bow of my head. Saitō still seemed a little flustered perhaps a side effect from his previous high – but he sobered up the moment Shinpachi opened his mouth.

"The Shōgun's troops departed from Edo," he stated.

Silence greeted this statement. If Tokugawa had ordered his supporters to join us in Kyōto, it could only mean one thing.

WAR.

As I struggled to grasp the full implications of it, the captains were already diving into discussions of timing, numbers and weaponry. But I could only sigh in mock relief.

"Phew, and here I thought I was about to fight foreigners. That would have been awkward."

"You'd not fight your own countrymen for us, Kitsu?" Sanosuke asked, his hand touching the small of my back for reassurance. With how much time we'd spent fighting together, we had both grown used to each other's casual touching. Something I had not believed possible in Japanese feudal times.

People always surprised me.

"I don't care much for French. The food is good, but damn they complain all the time. It wouldn't be the first time I fight them either."

Shinpachi actually laughed, but Saitō looked shocked.

"Don't get me wrong. I love and respect my country … much more than my fellow countrymen. We have courage. But no one threatens my friends and get away with it."

Hijikata's words filtered in my mind; this was the exact thing he'd told me about Itō.

The young captain just nodded; I'd never know if I had appeased him or not. Perhaps he thought me an unfaithful woman, a deflecter. Perhaps… he would ne right.

My attention returned to the discussion. Despite his boisterous ways, and his disrespect for ladies, Shinpachi was a fine politician. And so, while he explained the intricate technicalities of the Shōgun declaring war upon the Chōshū-Satsuma alliance – renamed SatChō –, I realised that my previous intuitions had proven partially true.

War with the foreigners wasn't going to happen after all, or not the way I thought they would. But war was coming all the same.

"We have a month, at best," Shinpachi concluded.

"So be it," I concluded.

Way to spoil the mood. But it was worth watching Saitō have fun with an elvish blade.

[1] Takeo HATTORI was famous as being skilful in using two swords at once, and his bloodcurdling presence of fighting alone overwhelmed the men he fought against; however, he was killed by Sanosuke HARADA's spear when his sword broke.