A nice, long moment in the company of our Captains before all hell breaks loose.
Working under Inoue-san's orders broke the routine nicely. The man seemed to be everywhere, from our captain's dinner to watching over our work in the dojo. Yet, he always disappeared behind the rowdiness of the Baka trio, or Sōji's antics.
But spending all this time by his side taught me that the captain of the sixth division liked trading stories. He was just discreet and respectful about it. I learnt much from a man who could have been Chizuru's father. His benevolence struck me, and I found myself ashamed at not knowing him better beforehand. Had I been too self-centred or too busy fending off attacks to weave a friendship with this wonderful fatherly man?
Inoue was five years older than Isami Kondō; somehow, he filled the role of a father to our own father figure. Which made him Okita's grandpa. I giggled at my own stupid joke; Inoue-san was barely forty. Younger than my late husband.
As I retreated to my rooms, my ears caught the sound of laughter in Heisuke's quarters; Harada's drawl taught me he was pretty drunk already. I paused, wondering if I should check up on him or not.
Masa's departure today worried us both. I had shown up in plain sight, swishing my artificial tails to make an impression on the group that surrounded the young mother and her child. Between Harada's tall stature – and his spear – and the presence of a Kitsune, I had no doubt the couple of young men he had enrolled to keep Masa safe would do their utmost.
I wondered if I would see her again, but the smile that broke upon her face when I gifted her my Norwegian scarf said it all. She was delighted by the item that not only looked exotic, but was also of great quality, even in my modern world. Wool and silk would keep both Shigeru and Masa warm without the discomfort of itchy material. In truth, I loved that scarf; parting from it really cost me. But they needed it more than I did.
Tch, I mused. Worrying over a scarf when war is about to break off. You really are a girl.
"She threatened them! You should have seen their faces!" Sano laughed, his voice carrying over the sliding door easily.
My ears perked; where they speaking about my involvement in this afternoon's events?
"No shit!" Heisuke exclaimed.
"You know mate, when a woman starts being scarier than you, it means you're getting old."
"Shut up, Shin!" Harada roared. "I'll show you who's old!"
It took this as my cue to rush in; if Heisuke wanted to keep his room intact, Sano and Shinpachi would have to take the fight outside. I found both friends in a headlock and snorted at the sight. Shinpachi greeted me with enthusiasm, pining Harada under his bulky arm.
"Neee, Kitsu ! Join in!"
"You're drunk," I retorted, then squinted in the dim light to take a better look at him. "All of you."
Heisuke's bright eyes twinkled sheepishly.
"Well, yeaaaaah. But the more the merrier, it will warm up the room."
"Poor commanders, they must freeze their asses."
Eventually, Sanosuke managed to fend Shinpachi off, and he smoothed his ruffled hair with a scoff.
"Kondō sleeps at his mistresses," he said.
I cringed; not only was Kondō's indiscretion considered normal, But Harada had just sent his wife and son in the unknown without any chance of helping them. Beside the money we had gathered for Masa, and her poor escort, she'd have to fend for herself. And Sano would bunk in with Shinpachi to keep warm, rather than sleep beside his beautiful wife.
Life sucked.
"And Fukuchō is an Oni, demons don't mind the cold," Heisuke quipped while taking another sip of sake.
As if !
I bit my lip to refrain from smiling at the thought, finding Sanosuke's amused gaze resting upon me. Yet, he didn't say a word. Good, I was right to trust him with it.
"Do you think Sōji and Saitō bunk in as well?" Heisuke slurred.
"Saitō's at the inn, baka. I'm sure it's warmer too."
Shinpachi grumbled something about lucky bastards and I winced; Saitō had been tasked to look after Miura Kyutarō in Tenman-ya[1], the mission taking him out of the compound. Hijikata had chosen him, officially, because of his spying skills; Saitō was discreet enough to go under any name. Officiously, it kept him away from wagging tongues. His return, after 6 months spend in Itō's faction, was met with many frowns. Most Shinsengumi soldiers thought him an opportunist who had deserted them.
It was sad that they would ignore Saitō's loyalty so easily.
Heisuke's face fell. "Oh, right… I forgot." Then, he suddenly jumped in his seat, limbs flaying so much that he nearly sent the tray of sake all over the tatami. "Chizuru!', he yelled. "She's going to freeze to death!"
And once more, no one thought to ask if Sanan felt lonely when he slept, or if the cold affected him.
"Oi! Watch it!" Shinpachi yelled.
Sano's heavy hand landed on his friend's shoulder, pacifying him like he would a baby.
"There, there. Don't worry, I'm sure she'll manage."
From what Sanan had hinted the other day, I wondered if Chizuru was actually sleeping in Okita's room at the moment. Had he found the courage to touch her, or did they sleep back to back like a set of children?
A hot retort was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't risk Heisuke's drunken haze to fixate on my own accommodations. My inability to lie would sell me too easily. So I feigned to lose interest in the conversation, and let it slide upon my back.
"Hey Sano, too cold for you belly dance?" Heisuke slurred.
I blinked at Harada finding a smirk upon his face.
"I need a few more cups of sake before I can perform. Kitsu, wanna see my scar?"
I felt my eyebrows hit my hairline. I'd heard stories about Harada's failed attempt at seppuku as a youth, but wouldn't, for the world, ask him to strip down. The captain, though, didn't seem fazed; I surmised he still considered me one of the guys. Just as he poured some sake for me, the shōji rattled open with a bang.
Hijikata stood there, anger swirling around him as he glared at the four of us.
"What's that racket!" he raged. "I can hear you from the other side of the compound."
The commander's rooms were quite some distance away, and I surmised he'd probably been trying to work given how sour he looked. Heisuke jumped like a frightened animal, but Shinpachi greeted him with a wide smile.
"Have a drink, Fukuchō! You look like you need it."
I braced myself for a round of yelling. Instead, Hijikata actually closed the door behind him and sunk upon the tatami with a weary sigh.
"Just one, I've got work to do, contrary to you dunderheads."
The insult flew over their head; whether because of the alcohol, or because they knew he was all bark and no bite, the Baka trio settled again. To see them again, bantering and sharing a merry moment after all the sorrow thrown at them, warmed my heart.
Was it the reason why Toshizō had actually accepted to stay? The memory of past days, with fewer worries? To forget that Heisuke was now a Rasetsu ?
"Last round before Sano-san's belly dance," Heisuke chimed as he refilled the tenth captain's cup. Hijikata's eyebrows knitted, his eyes landing upon me.
"Belly dance, in front of Kitsu?"
A feral light gleamed in his eyes and I smirked; so cute !
"Well, she danced for us, it's only fair," Harada retorted. "Even Chizuru has seen it."
I snorted in my cup, swallowing the bland liquid with a grimace. God, I really didn't like sake.
"I've seen my fair share of naked men…" I allowed my voice to trail, hearing Nagakura's snort as he swallowed his sake. Fukuchō and I locked eyes; his cheeks reddened slightly as I laughed. I certainly wasn't about to compare his own body to my past lovers; most naked men I'd seen were those of my brothers. But they didn't need to know that, right? So, tearing my gaze from a flustered Hiijikata, I bend over the tray to look Harada in the eye.
"Ca va, Sano (It's alright). Just keep the rest hidden and vazy! (bring it on)!"
As I watched Sanosuke release the wrappings that usually covered his belly, I felt the absence of music keenly. A good folk song would have done wonders for the mood. Still, as the captain became more inebriated and I discreetly refilled Hijikata's cup by my side, I couldn't help but grin at the sheer stupidity of Harada squirming from the cold.
"You draw, Shinpats'"
The low light emphasised the sheer bulk of his frame, even though his back was turned while Nagakura grabbed a brush and ink. I blinked; I had not realised Harada was so damn big.
"Drool worthy enough, Kitsu-san?"
Heisuke's eyes twinkled and I slightly blushed; I had not meant to be staring like this. Toshizō's snort by my side was followed by a long gulp of sake, and he handed the cup back to me with an intense glare. His cheeks were pink already, and I chuckled. He was jealous … and slightly drunk. Or perhaps jealous because of it. I would never forget our first kiss happened because of his inability to handle alcohol.
Still, I was glad no one what watching me, because I knew my gaze would totally sell me; I found this man absolutely adorable, and couldn't wait to snog him senseless.
When Harada turned around with a triumphant grin, presenting a drawn figure that framed his scar, my mouth dropped. The angry line was half a thumb thick, and ran through most of his lower belly; it hurt to look at it. I had not realised he'd cut that deep, that wide…
"What the fuck, Sano! How did you survive that!"
His grin faded when he saw how upset I was. "Well, seppuku is seppuku!"
I shook my head, appalled. Sometimes, I didn't understand him at all. Taking all precautions to send his wife and son to safety, only to jump into a fight with glee the next moment. Squaring off with Shiranui had taught me that battles were first on Harada's priority list.
"Don't make that face," he rumbled. "Watch ! That guy had plenty of things to say."
Shinpachi started clapping in his hands, and the moment of awkwardness was disbanded by the boisterous laugh of Heisuke. As Sanosuke danced, wiggling his belly, the face drawn upon his skin started morphing into different expressions. After a moment of stunned silence, I felt laugher bubble up in my chest.
Downright hilarious.
My expression only pushed Harada further as he unleashed his comical talent, mimicking the deep voice of the creature he was supposed to incarnate, calling at the Kitsune. At this point, I just couldn't hold it; the scar line had morphed into a grin, twisting and turning with the captain's movements. I laughed my ass off, the undertones of Hijikata's chuckles echoing by my side.
Eventually, Harada collapsed on the tatami mats, sweat dripping down his back and I threw a haori over his form to keep him warm. Heisuke bundled next to his friend, half passed out already. They reminded me of a dog pile.
"That brings back memories, eh, Hijikata-san?"
Shinpachi seemed more sober than his friends; he probably handled alcohol better than our Fukuchō anyway. Toshizō's gaze was slightly unfocused, and I was left wondering.
"How far back?", I asked Shinpachi. But it was the commander who answered my question.
"Ah, we used to drink like that at Shiei hall."
Kondō had mentioned the dōjō several times as the focal point of the whole Shinsengumi adventure in Edo.
"We used to drink," Harada snorted from his place on the ground. "You'd sleep it off, Hijikata-kun."
The commander's cheeks reddened further as he bellowed an indignant, 'jerk !' Funny, with alcohol, the – san honorific had been replaced by a – kun. I knew Fukuchō would trust Harada with anything; both he and Saitō were loyal to a fault. To hear this mark of companionship sent back to him caused my chest to warm up.
As I laughed again, Hijikata's features softened.
"Ah. It was poor sake too. People didn't want to learn from country guys. But Kondō-san would never back down, even though our roof was leaking."
Speaking of a leaking roof…
"But you've managed, haven't you?" Shinpachi retorted. "You've put Kondō-san's dōjō on that fucking map."
You. Not we. Toshizō had managed, and his captains and subordinates were nailing it. I hoped he heard the reverence in their voice. Hijikata nodded thoughtfully in his cup, probably wondering what they had really managed. He was prone to contemplative moments more often than his captains knew, wondering what the Shinsengumi stood for. What, in the end, he, Sanan and Kondō had really achieved.
The discussion went on for a little while until Heisuke's soft snores rose in the room, and I decided to call it a night.
"Well, guys, I've had enough of this horrible liquor"
Where is cherry when you need it ? Or marsala ? Or guignolet, mmm.
"I think I'll head out", I added.
The romantic in me hoped to drag Hijikata into bed, but I doubted he'd make it that obvious. I avoided looking at him in an effort to make this seem more natural, thus, was surprised when he shifted in his seat and gathered his knees forward in the traditional seiza position.
"Right. Still have work…", he slurred. "So urusei, now, ne?"
I'd heard him say this word too often, the traditional urusei – meaning shut up. But the way he said it, all mumbled, and completely detached from the rest told me he was thoroughly wasted. Even more so than the night of our first kiss. And definitely more than our first time.
"Hai hai, Hijikata-san. No need to be mean, we'll behave," Harada retorted. His amber eyes were fixed upon the commander, barely concealed amusement dancing within their depth. I couldn't help the smile that tugged the corner of my lips; this surely was usual occurrence to them, but I wasn't used to seeing Toshizō so damn smashed.
I doubted there would be much lovemaking involved tonight. The ever-poised commander uttered an expletive that I didn't understand when he rose. Or, should I say, attempted to rise, for he stumbled right into me. I fumbled to keep my balance and grabbed his forearms to keep him upright.
"Sumanai," he slurred, pushing himself upright.
He pinched the bridge of his nose in a very familiar gesture; I didn't dare stepping away for fear he might end up kissing the ground. Now wasn't the time to get hurt.
Shinpachi outwardly scoffed, but it was Sanosuke who pushed himself to his feet – with a mild sway – and slid his arm around Hijikata's waist.
"Take the other side, Kitsu."
Not my favourite part of him.
"What are you doing?" Hijikata slurred, offended by the close contact. "I can walk just…"
His foot caught something, sending him careening forward. The strength of Harada's grip was the only thing that kept him from passing through the shōji, and he grit his teeth.
"Come now, Hijikata-kun. You're just working too much. Let me lend a hand."
Harada and I exchanged a look that conveyed both amusement and worry. How a warrior like Sanosuke, fierce and fearless, could actually flip on the 'father' switch so easily always amazed me. But there he was, leading a wasted commander gently back to his quarters with soothing words. He truly was a gem; I was proud to call him friend.
And actually, no less proud to call Toshizō my lover, even though his weight rested heavily on my shoulders. He wasn't tall enough for me to fit under his arm, so the stumble back was awkward as hell. We crossed the courtyard with little steps, Hijikata mumbling by our side that he wasn't an old lady, or whatnot. Climbing back upon the engawa was another affair. Eventually, Harada had enough, and just hoisted Toshizō over his shoulder. The "oof" of protest was feebler than expected; Fukuchō was one breath away from passing out.
I jumped upon the engawa, slightly buzzed, and pushed the door to his room open. The lamp was still burning, paperwork scattered over his desk where he'd left it. Harada was right; Fukuchō worked entirely too much. I filed the information in a corner of my head, returning to the matter at hand. Harada was buckling under Toshizō's barely conscious weight, and I fished the futon out of his cupboard.
The mattress was unrolled with a flick of my wrist. Despite Harada's obvious strength, the captain struggled to unload the dead weight without hurting the boneless commander. I reached out to take a piece of the load, only to stumble backwards into the futon. Hijikata landed in my lap, pinning me down on the mattress with blinking eyes.
"Kitsu ?", he slurred, thoroughly lost. One of his hands lifted to snatch a lock of my hair, only to fall back with a weary sigh.
Harada shook his head in amusement. "Prends soin de lui (Take care of him.)" The captain left with a playful wink, closing the shōji in silence. No questions asked, either in French or Japanese - he really had a knack for languages. I was glad I had shared my secret with him a few days past, it came in handy. A gentle voice called me back to the matter at hand.
"Smell nice."
"I'm delighted to hear it," I responded sarcastically. Toshizō blinked at me, thoroughly confused. I allowed myself to get lost in the intensity of his eyes; his expression was so open, so vulnerable right then. The insane purple hues danced in a world of darkness, neither unkind, nor truly benevolent. Mesmerised, I caressed the side of his jaw. "You smell like bad sake, love."
The nickname – in English – surprised me just as much as it did him. Where did that come from? I just knew, right now, that there was no other place I wanted to be rather than pinned below his warm body. Still … we couldn't sleep like this. Forgoing the idea to undress him entirely, I just extracted myself from under him; he barely stirred as I reached for the teapot nearby. Chizuru, once more, had worked her magic. I downed the cold cup myself, and refilled it with lukewarm tea.
As I replaced the lid, my gaze caught an unsealed letter haphazardly thrown over the pile. Hurried strokes revealed the name of the recipient: Satō Hikogorō. The missive bore no official seal – personal correspondence then - but only a flurry of kanjis linked together by the lazy hand of the man that slumbered in a drunken haze. I recognised this name, Kondō had mentioned he was part of Hijikata's family by alliance, and the reason why they had met in the first place. A story about a dōjō.
Curiosity nearly killed the Kitsuneko, and I mentally noted to ask Toshizō about his relationship with the man. Given his tendency to be curt with his older sister, I surmised he held much respect for the man. After all, our Fukuchō was absolutely unwilling to write long missives if he could avoid it. For a moment, I imagined a much younger Toshi, slaving on his letters with his tongue sticking out, grumbling about damn kanjis and stupid writing.
Adorable.
A soft snore interrupted my mental ramblings and I approached him cautiously, mindful not to slosh any liquid on his kimono. His bangs stuck to the side of his face, and I brushed them away tenderly. Then, I proceeded to shake Toshizō awake. He groaned pitifully, causing my lips to pull up in a smile. Don't poke the bear, I thought. Despite his warrior's instincts, I was surprised when he didn't try to take my head off. Perhaps he was used to my touch by now. He, for one, didn't stir my danger bells anymore.
"Nanda… ?"
He stirred slightly.
"You need to drink up, Toshi."
The man people called a demon opened his eyes anew, exhaustion shining through, to grab the cup from my hands and gulp it down in one go. I refilled it at once, but found that he had crashed down before I could hand it over. With a shake of my head, I set my wakizashi beside his, keeping the elvish blade next to the futon, just in case I had to defend us both.
The sight of our weapons stored felt so domestic that it struck me. Could I make a life here, beside Toshizō, should fate decide to keep us both alive? We shared mutual respect and, I surmised, more affection that most couples did in this era. Would it be enough, given how poor at wifery things I seemed to be? Would Hijikata want a woman like me, a fellow warrior, to take his name and bear it with pride?
Perhaps I was just a companion for wartime. One not suited to peaceful dealings. Somehow, deep down, I knew I was only veiling the real issue; my heart had still not recovered from … the past.
A snore interrupted my nightly musings, and I turned around to find the commander sprawled upon his back, mouth open. The infamous Oni, vanquished by poor sake. With a sigh, I blew the candle of the lamp, and pulled the covers over his form. Then, like a cat sneaking in another's room, I burrowed under the covers and made a pillow out of his chest.
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[1] Ya means inn