Hey, it's been a while. To make up for the wait, here's a good, long chapter.

Sanan-san, the return !

I was the one who brought tea for Sanan-san this very evening, hoping he wasn't too engrossed in research to spare a little time for me. Fukuchō wanted me to ask for help, and so I would.

I carried a tray with a cast iron teapot; I'd brewed this tea myself, and hoped it would be good enough. Calling out to Sanan from the engawa, I heard his muffled "hairi kudasai" and wondered if I should put the tray on the ground and get in on my knees, or just walk in. Mmm. What was the proper etiquette again?

Picturing Chizuru in my mind, I slid the shōji open, then pushed the tray in. Damn. There was no space left for me to swivel in with the tea tray in the way. I probably messed up the order of things. A soft chuckle greeted my disgruntled face; Sanan was hiding his amusement behind his hand, but mirth danced merrily in his eyes.

"You should have opened the shōji wider, Kitsu-kun," he provided.

I lifted my hands in defeat. "Blast. And I thought I mastered it."

Sanan cocked his head aside.

"How would things go in France?"

I snorted, closing the sliding door behind me as I pulled the tea tray with me. "First, I don't serve tea. And secondly, we walk in, so it's not so much of a hassle. But I bet the British must have a ceremony for it."

"You do not serve tea at all?"

Of all the differences, he had to fixate on that one. Serving tea, for ladies, was such a great part of his culture that he couldn't fathom that I had never done so for anyone.

"My parents are both coffee drinkers. I guess I'm the only one in this family that doesn't enjoy it… And you know, in modern times, serving men has fallen out of fashion."

We didn't have all night, else I would have told him more of my childhood. Instead of learning how to cook, I'd built fires and roamed the countryside, chopping dead wood and moulded clay dinosaurs for my little brother. Nothing too traditional … sewing was the only remotely girl thing I enjoyed.

"Then I feel honoured by your gesture," he added.

I didn't even think, grabbing the cup and pouring for him. As I handed the recipient over and filled mine – which was a mistake, given his reaction – I shrugged.

"Well. I do enjoy tea, especially your blends."

Sanan took a sip of warm liquid, eyeing me curiously.

"Not so much on black tea? Darjeeling can be pretty enjoyable."

I'd only ever drunk Twinings packets, overinfused in boiling water; the worst kind.

"Naaa. All that colonisation stuff anyway … well. It's just too harsh. At this rate, coffee does the trick. But I hate it with so much passion…"

Sanan's eyes cringed at the corner over his cup, and I smiled back.

"Anyway. Chizuru tried to teach me how she makes Hijikata-san's tea, and even though it's not as good, I'm glad this one is drinkable."

"Hijikata-kun doesn't realise how blessed he is to have two ladies taking care of him."

There was an underlying message here, one I was too afraid to understand. So, instead of responding, I just hummed in my cup and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the sencha Chizuru had procured. It brought me peace, and I blanked out for a moment. Then, realising that Sanan's eyes were still fixed upon me, I cleared my throat.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you. Is it a bad time?"

"Not at all. I'm surprised you didn't come earlier, actually."

His spectacles flashed in the night light; he was still observing me. I sheepishly shrugged.

"Ah yeah. This little strife with Sōji really ate my time away. But you're right, I should have come earlier."

"Hijikata-kun told me you needed me to train you with the sword. That you were trying to master a new ability."

I understood his curiosity; after training with Saitō, Sanan probably wondered why I needed him, specifically. The truth was that my secret was better kept hidden for the moment, and that both Hijikata and I trusted him.

"I'd be better if I showed you."

"Shall we step outside?" he asked, grey eyes gleaming with curiosity.

A gentle smile crept up my lips – I probably rocked his world with all my strangeness. Sanan, never one to miss the tiniest change of expression, raised his eyebrows with a clear question written upon his face. I just chuckled.

"No, it won't be necessary. Just … brace for impact."

His hand flew to his sword at once, a reflex, for the sword was safely stored in the corner of the room. I rushed to reassure him.

"No! Not like that. I mean, brace your mind. I won't break anything, I promise."

Sanan seemed to relax, and I wondered, for a second, if he really believed I could attack him. I unsheathed my sword, holding it right in front of me. I forced my thoughts to quieten, like water sloshing down a hill, and watched the letters carved upon the mithril blade. Words of encouragement, words of devotion. Glorfindel's magic to protect me along the path of my many travels.

That ball of light ignited in my core, fuelled by gratefulness. At once, I felt it flood my body and ignite the blade. It flared to life, vibrating and blinding in my hands.

Any other man would have gasped, or exclaimed something along 'holy shit!' Sanan, though, only stared, fascinated. As I watched his reaction, I lost my concentration and the blade returned to its beautiful silvery hues.

"This is pretty fascinating, Kitsu-kun. Does it confer any other quality to the blade?"

"I'm still trying to figure it out, because I obviously couldn't quite test it on flesh. But it cut through a rock like a knife through butter."

Sanan's eyes widened this time, surprise written on his face before he schooled his features. Anyone else who have called me a liar. He didn't, taking in the information.

"Without a scratch?"

"As if it wasn't touching anything. I think it might work like a laser cut or something. Turning the edge into a molecular knife."

A gentle smile stretched his lips when he shook his head in confusion. "I fear you have lost me."

Shit. Molecular knife. Too modern. I was so used to Sanan following my every reflexion that I failed at remembering he was born in the past.

"Remember we talked of atoms, and matter? Of how things were built as molecules?"

He nodded, so I went on. "I think that, when the blade flares, it disintegrates the link between molecules. That it becomes so sharp that it actually goes in between atoms. That's my guess. Does it make sense?"

"You are far more advanced in physics than I, my dear. But if you wish, we can test it. Imagine if you could cut through enemy canons? Rifles? Fortress walls?"

I gaped; I had, so far, not considered things from a strategic point of view. Both Hijikata and I had conjectured I might be able to bypass Kazama's blade, or even cut through it. But Sanan was already devising ambitious plans, and thinking ahead.

"Holy…" I closed my mouth to avoid the F word. This could mean saving dozens of lives! I'd just have to find a way inside enemy lines, and launch a surprise attack to cut down their artillery. But could it really work?

"I … you're so right, of course! How could I not think of it?"

The Colonel didn't rise to it, choosing to keep his communication rational. The sharpness of his mind always puzzled me; he'd just seen a blade flare to life like one would witness a miracle of the bible, and was still thinking straight. This analytical side was as astounding as it was terrifying…

"I take it this ability is new," he eventually said, his silky voice contemplative.

"Very. My main concern is to keep the blade flaring while I'm in the middle of a battle. It takes quite some mediation to achieve, and I need to be able to call upon this ability."

"Mastership would come in handy. But you have to remember that it could also expose you," he warned me. I groaned; he was right. I could barely handle my two blades properly at the moment, let alone in a meditative trance.

"We don't have years for me to handle this."

Sanan pinned me with one of his calculating gazes.

"No. But if you used only the flaring blade with your usual skill, you might be able to protect our lines in battle. Without using the wakizashi."

I mused upon this. How much danger would this put me in? How much distraction would the meditation cause, exposing me? How long did it take to be cut down? After training with Saitō, I knew mere fractions of a second would be enough. Even though I never faced an opponent like him, a breath's time distraction could mean death.

Sanan's mind, however, was already far gone into speculations.

"It would explain, as well, what Kazama told you."

I watched him, puzzled.

"Uh?"

"He said your soul was linked to the blade."

Right. Which meant I should be the only one able to pull off such a feat. I took another sip of lukewarm tea, wondering if Sanan ever forgot anything.

"How do you create the link?" he gently asked, genuinely curious.

I scratched the back of my neck, how could I explain it?

"Ah … through love, and gratefulness. I need to call light in my chest, then it just binds with the sword."

"Amazing," he mused.

"Yeah, right. But it takes time and focus. So you see my plight. Battle usually calls my anger, not feelings of elation."

Sanan set his cup of tea upon the tray, and gave me a look that could have molten ice. Somehow, the way his grey eyes lingered upon me caused my cheeks to blush, and warmth to settle in my chest.

"You'll have to shift the point of view then. Fighting and elation are not irreconcilable."

"Uh?"

The scientist shook his head.

"You are a guardian, Kitsu-kun. You said so yourself. Would you be able to walk to battle with the protection of those you love in mind?"

His words impacted me full force … there it was, the solution that had eluded me for so long. Hope suddenly surfaced, crushing the many doubts I'd been harbouring.

"I … might. I need my mind aligned with my goal. You're right. Arigatō gozaimasu. Once more, you found how to solve the puzzle."

The Colonel gave me a true smile.

"We can practise transitions. With your blade flaring, you should be invincible, provided it cuts through metal. Without it, you can pull your wakisahi, and fight with Saitō-kun's moves. What we need to work are in between, the moment of distraction when your blade stops flaring. Or when you call upon its power."

I bowed, this time, lower than usual.

"As usual, Sanan-san. You are a life saviour, literally."

"You know, Kitsu-kun…", he chuckled, his words lingering in the air. Then he sighed. "Your praise is music to my ears. I wish you'd been there instead of Itō-san. I might not have taken the Ochimizu back then."

Well, that's something else. Did it mean he'd felt underappreciated at the time? What had this bastard done to push him to transform himself into a Rasetsu?

Stunned, I straightened to find a wistful look upon his face. For a moment, he seemed very far away, and I wondered if I should call him back altogether. The Colonel blinked once, and addressed me a sad smile.

"Well, I am what I am now. Shall we test your blade with different materials?"

Discussion closed.

Good; I didn't quite know what to make of it. Still … it felt like I had missed something big.

This is how, evening after evening, Sanan and I gathered into the training hall after the men had cleared it, and I, cleaned it. After battling against Saitō's crazy skills, I found myself squaring off against the Colonel. It felt like I was bouncing from master to master, inhaling their knowledge, guidance and techniques. Internalising it at the speed of light; I'd never trained to intensely in my life.

I felt privileged, and exhausted at the same time. Sanan was all grace, and hidden strength. So different from Saitō's detached precision, or Hijikata's purposeful blows. His eyes gave nothing away, his intentions concealed until the last moment when he would strike like a snake. His style, as well, was different; Sanan had obtained his menkyo Kaiden in the Itto Ryu style before he came to train with Kondō, and I was proud to be able to notice the shift.

Fortunately, the Colonel didn't go full out on me. As we worked on my defences while trying to flare the blade, he used a shinai to attack me. At first, he applied little force; whether he didn't want to hurt me, or feared relatiation from our Vice Commander was yet to determine. I surmised he was balancing the right amount of bruising to keep me motivated without breaking me.

It didn't prevent me from returning to Hijikata's rooms with swollen knuckles. Toshizō said nothing, he just kissed them and sighed; we all knew time was too short to be gentle. Night after night, Sanan kept me on my toes, as if I was in real battles, coming from every direction until I started mastering the art of meditating and blocking with both wakizashi and elvish blade.

As days passed, the parries became instinctual and required less of my mind; I started compartimentalising the part that fought, and the one that sought the light within. The first time my blade flared, I was swinging it full force and chopped the shinai off. Sanan barely had time to leap out of the way; the blow would have disemboweled him.

I gasped, horrified. The blade returned to normal at once.

"Gomen!" I squeaked. "Are you all right?"

"Hai," he chuckled, mesmerised by the clean-cut upon the shinai. "But this one's dead."

I inwardly panicked; how could we go on training when I risked cutting him down so much?

"I can't… I'm not in control. We can't continue, it's too dangerous for you."

Sanan scowled, his glasses flashing as he fetched another shinai.

"Nonsense, Kitsu. This is the reason Hijikata-kun choose me. I am Rasetsu, I have better reflexes and can heal from almost any wound."

I gaped; how I had overlooked such an obvious thing ? Ignored that, more than Sanan's skill, Hijikata purposefully put him in the line of danger to train me ? My maiden heart bled from the necessity of it. All was fair in love and war, and I trusted our Fukuchō to make those harsh decisions. He was right. But still…

"And you're not half bad with a sword," I concluded with a huff. "All right, I yield. Just stay away from that flashing blade."

"You need to trust in my abilities," he scolded me, his tone deceptively light.

"I do. Much more than I trust myself."

Hijikata thought Sanan worthy to handle my lack of control. His decision wasn't a request of sacrifice, but a show of trust. And from the light that danced in Sanan's eyes, it honoured him. I realised that my skittishness would only impair his pride.

So on we went. Again, and again, day after day, shinai after shinai until we had to order more. Hijikata lifted an amused eyebrow at the request, but after he'd witnessed our training, complied nonetheless.

One evening, as I struggled to get control of my blade, I lost my temper and just sagged upon the wooden planks. The open shōji revealed a dark night with barely a crescent showing; the end of the twelfth month of the year. I'd heard there would be another one before 1868 came, a thirteenth month.

"So how does it work?", I gasped. "Next month is still 1867?"

"Hai."

Instead of kicking my ass like an instructor, Sanan knelt beside me and took a look at the moon. After a moment, his thoughtful tones rose in the silence.

"You claim not to be the Keeper of Time, but you have an inner sense of time after all."

Still panting, I only lifted my eyebrows as a form of interrogation.

"Today is 25th of December in the west. I believe Christians celebrate Christmas."

"What?" I started. Damn, I almost missed Christmas. Sanan frowned by my side.

"My apologies, I had surmised you were not a Christian, and didn't think to forewarn you."

Well … he wasn't wrong. The fact that he felt the need to apologise for such a trivial thing unsettled me.

"I'm the only one at fault here, if any. But you are right, I am not religious that way. Just… Christmas is the most important event of the year in my family. We still abide by the traditions and … well… I've got no presents for anyone."

Something in my throat caught and I swallowed the nostalgia. I'd been here nearly a year. I was still making peace with the idea to never see my family again. How would they handle my absence the next Christmas, when I didn't make it back? Memories of my grandparents gathered for Christmas, my brothers, my neighbours weighed heavily.

Would they gather and huddle around the fireplace, tearing open presents with glee? Share the delicious meal my mother was sure to whip? Make a snowball fight, if they were lucky enough to have snow? Would they grow old, keeping the memory of me as I kept alive their faces in my head?

"Homesick?"

Uncomfortable stinging caused my eyes to water.

"Perhaps a bit, yes," I huffed.

I crushed the images with the efficiency of a warrior. Here I was, making a difference. Bouncing from instructor to instructor for the greater good. Learning to save lives. The Keeper of Time still lived, and I would make a difference in this world. Allow fathers, brothers, friends to return to their own family.

"I'm sorry, I've been losing your time this evening."

"Not at all. My research is stalling, it is nice to exert my body. No one quite poses a challenge, now. But that flaring blade does."

Always the peacemaker. I gave him a weary smile, and watched the gleam of his spectacles hide the grey of his eyes. He remained silent after that, and I felt the sudden need to scream. There we were, two shadows in a dark night, hiding from everyone in the compound. Both of us trapped because of our very nature; he, the Rasetsu. Me, the gaijin. For a moment, I felt like the companionship I'd found – the captains and Toshizō – weren't enough to fuel me.

I needed air. Freedom. I needed to exist outside the bounds of this compound. Needed to break those chains and stand for myself. The memory of dancing upon a warship's yards, high above the roaring sea, caused my chest to vibrate in anticipation. But the night was still, not a gust of wind. Icy, even.

Sanan just sat there, watching the night with an expression of inner peace that contrasted with his usual cheerful mask.

"You know," I eventually said. "I'm fed up with hiding. Training at night to remain unseen. How could you handle it for so long?"

Cocking his head aside, he watched me for a long moment. So long that I felt the need to break the awkward silence. "I admire you for your strength, really."

The corner of his lips lifted in a smirk.

"I believe my part of darkness always was greater than yours, Kitsu. You have light. The shadows but they press down upon you."

Well … that was as cryptic as Gandalf's old quotes. Seeing my puzzled expression, Sanan's smirk grew into a full smile this time, his eyes closing momentarily.

"There's so much light in you. It is a resonance with your sword."

Resonance? Like a frequency?

"Is that what you think?" I frowned. The Colonel nodded, his eyes fixed upon the mithril alloy. "It literally vibrates in your hands."

I nodded. That much was true. How he was able to perceive it, though… His voice felt distant when he spoke next, his sighs set upon the stars.

"Don't ever lose sight of it. Even though what is to come might be difficult to handle."

"Do you think war is inevitable?" I breathed out.

Please say no. Please tell me that I've got it wrong, that my interpretation of the political background is erroneous because I know nothing of Japan and its main players. That my intuition has been fuelling me with fear, rather than visions and insights of the future.

"This way or another, we will be caught between the Shōgun's forces and the SatChō. People will die, friends and foes."

I nodded grimly; the memory of friends passing away on the battlefield was too fresh to ignore. I shivered in the night, reaching for my woollen mantle in hopes of warming up. But that coldness that settled within my bones had nothing to do with the icy air.

"I've been to war, I know … how gruesome it can be."

In his eyes flashed a gleam of steel; it probably reflected my own expression. People always overlooked how unyielding and dedicated I could be, for I offered a cheerful exterior. Sanan saw right through it.

"How devoted to the Shinsengumi are you?"

His question caught me off guard, and I caught his disturbing gaze.

"I…"

Those men were so devoted to their organisation that I felt the lie catch in my throat. I trusted Kondō-san, and the captains. Their banner, Makoto – sincerity – was just a reflection of their inner strength. They made the Shinsengumi, not the other way around.

"Speak your mind without fear, Kitsu-kun."

His words were intense, but his expression open.

"It is a difficult question for me. I'd die for many of you, that's for sure. But as the Keeper of time, I never committed myself to an organisation. Politics and alliances may bring it to fail. I'd rather place my trust in people."

"People fail too…"

Was he about to leave me hanging without pointing out the person he was talking about? There had been some tension with Hijikata about rasetsu corps recently. Nagakura, as well, never hesitated to voice his concerns about the Ochimizu that he abhorred with passion. Or perhaps Sanan spoke of Kondō?

I wasn't expecting the blow he was about to deal. Slowly, he popped his chin forward, pointing to my blade.

"Kitsu-kun. With that blade, you are the only one in this compound who will be able to kill me easily should I lose my head."

I gaped, my chest tightening with the horrible prospect of raising the flaring weapon against him. I furiously repressed tears, but couldn't mask the horror upon my features.

"Don't ask me that…", I whispered. "Please, Keisuke. Not that"

The use of his first name seemed to shock him; for a moment, his features softened. Then, the hard rock determination returned to his eyes.

"I'm not asking. If I go against one of us, would you not interfere? Would you allow me to cut Hijikata-kun down?"

Unfair. He knew how attached I was to the Vice Commander.

"He can hold his own," I stubbornly responded.

"He could when I was alive, hands down. But I'm not human anymore. He will hesitate, because his heart is soft. If I go full out, I could kill many before they bring me down."

This time, the tears slid down my cheeks. Human. Alive. Keisuke Sanan, dear friend of mine, was asking me to be his executioner should the time come. It was a great honour; he bestowed upon me the title of kaishakunin. Did I deserve it? Probably not. Did I want to see the light die from his eyes by my blade? Certainly not.

Would I be able to flare the blade to finish him ? Probably… out of love, I would do it. This was a warrior's promise.

"Merry Christmas to me," I muttered, my heart breaking.

I couldn't take it. Couldn't face him. So I bowed low and left. As I retreated though, I couldn't help but turn around and watch his lonely figure, bathed in shadows on the engawa. As if he was already dead. On a whim, I started singing one of my favourite Christmas songs. Sure, I wasn't religious, but some of their cantics called to my soul; this one, in particular, always brought chills up my spine.

In the night, my voice rose, high pitched, to greet the stars. Higher than my usual ramblings, but as strong as my conviction on this day.

"Adeste fideles

Læti triumphantes,

Venite, venite in Bethlehem

Gloria, gloria

In excelsis Deo"

May it carry my love to my family. May it bring hope and light into this dark night. For once, I didn't care who heard me. No-one, except for Sanan, could probably distinguish my features in the darkness.

That strength fuelled me from within, giving me the power to go on, even though my heart was breaking for the man that sat upon the wooden floor, utterly alone.

"Venite adoremus

Venite adoremus

Venite adoremus Dominum."

All air left my lungs on that last note and I took a deep, long breath. As if landing on earth after spending too much time in the deep blue space. Sanan called back to me in the darkness, his voice smooth as silk. "There is your light." This was our parting on 25th of December 1867 as per the western calendar.

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