It kept me balanced and fuelled the Kitsuneko nickname; who cared? It also helped me remember the routes I could take on rooftops. The view from the highest tree spread well over the walls of the compound, allowing me to memorise which rooftops connected, and where I could climb or descend without risking my life. In general, Kyōto's houses possessed a first layer of low hanging hooves; my own personal ladder.
Today, I was musing about the complicated political ties of the Shinsengumi while peeling a mandarin – those were delicious here ! We served the Bakufu, meaning the Shōgun's authority, but were patroned by Mastudaira-dono, the Daimyō in charge of the Aizu province.
Aizuwakamatsu rested up north, very far from Kyōto. I knew, by now, that all Daimyō's families had to remain in Edo at court. It felt too much like a hostage situation for me to approve it, but such were the rules. For more than two hundred years, the Tokugawa Shōgunate had brought peace to Japan by ruling thus; who was I do disagree?
As it were, and from what I remembered from Kondō's teachings, the Shōgun himself came from the Matsudaira line. And the actual dono used to serve as Kyōto commissioner – Kyōto Shugoshoku. I remembered Toshizō mentioning that Serizawa had been the missing link between them and their Aizu support. In exchange of their new status as the Shinsengumi, they had asked for Serizawa to be assassinated.
I shook my head. Politics always left a sour taste in my mouth. What did one feel when using his blade to pierce the heart of a man he knew, and sometimes respected? How woud I feel if I had to draw my flaring sword through Sanan? My breath caught, chest tightening at the idea. Would I even be able to cause the blade to flare up to execute such a good friend? Impossible… I shook my head. Impossible…
"Hey Kitsu-kun!", a familiar voice called from below. "Got another story to trade?"
I looked down, finding Heisuke shielding his eyes from the low sun. For once, his arrival was very welcome.
"You up already?"
I knew rasetsu adapted their sleeping patterns to cope for the light sensitivity. But Heisuke seemed in good form still; he handled the change pretty well.
"I don't need that much sleep", he shrugged.
I climbed down, settling on the stone bench below the great tree. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd still be here to witness another Sakura season. Somewhere, deep within, I doubted it.
"Where were we last time?"
"The war of the ring had ended."
Albeit I knew what had happened after my departure – a story for another time – I didn't want to delve upon my lost love.
"Ah, right", I mused. My mind went to the next more epic story I knew, but I recoiled at the idea of speaking of Tristan's demise. No, this wouldn't do either. So King Arthur would have to wait. What about … my time spent on a man-o-war in 1804?
" … a naval battle?" Heisuke gave me a sheepish grimace.
"Does it always have to be a war?"
Good point, Heisuke.
"Well. Er…"
Perhaps I could tell him something entirely fictional, then. I reviewed the cartoons and comics I'd seen or read, only to fall a little short … what would a twenty-year-old warrior whose humanity had just been stripped enjoy, eh? Eventually, though, an idea formed in my mind, and the suggestion seemed to stick.
"How about a story about a water siren turned into a little girl?"
Heisuke's wide eyes searched my face incredulously before he nodded.
"Why not. I'd be nice to hear something without too many deaths for a change."
My heart throbbed for him, and I realised I wasn't the only one in dire need of a little fluff. So I started telling him about Ponyo, knowing that Miyazaki's images could, at least, be understood by another Japanese heart.
We didn't get too far into the story when we spotted Fukuchō walking up to us, two bokken in hand. His clenched jaw complimented the terrifying look in his eyes, anger swirled around him like a storm about to swallow earth whole. Whatever had happened was tying him into knots.
"I need to clear my mind", he stated, handing the bokken to my neighbour. "Fancy a little sparring?"
The diminutive man didn't hesitate one bit, and I wondered if he was crazy. Or just plain brave.
"Hai, Hijikata-san. You still owe me a rematch after you handed my ass to me in front of Matusaidra-dono."
There was a story there; I filed it up for later, and watched both men take their stance in the middle of the Captain's courtyard. Good, I wouldn't have to hide to witness the fight. I wondered if the fact that Heisuke was a Rasetsu, and fighting in plain light would compensate. One strength, one weakness. His bright eyes shone with anticipation; I could almost feel the energy bubbling around him. So lithe, so lively, so bright…
In front of him stood a rock. Dark hair falling over the deep purple hakamashita, dark eyes focused, anger swirling against his pale skin like a companion, bokken hidden behind him. How Heisuke could withstand his aura was a wonder; the guy was more sturdy that he let on.
The leapt at each other in a flurry of blows. Hijiakata's strength drew Heisuke back, again and again, but the captain wouldn't give up. Light on his feet, slippery like an eel, he seemed to be mocking the block of pure power that resided inside our Fukuchō. It was a sight to behold, very different from Saitō's an Sōji's own match where both opponents had been of even strength and skill. This sparring session felt uneven … yet, they were still at it.
A grunt of pain caused my eyes to widen and my chest to clench; I recognised Toshizō's voice without an ounce of hesitation. "Kuso", he swore. Heisuke had landed a hit on his ribs with a side kick. I hoped his rasetsu strength had not broken any.
Realisation struck me then.
I loved him.
For why would I react so strongly to that simple expression of pain, if not because my heart was dedicated to him?
Hijikata rounded his bokken in a swift move, and pinned his opponent's throat in retaliation. Game Over. The belligerants stopped, panting in exertion. Then saluted each other stiffly and nodded in satisfaction. I rolled my eyes fondly; brothers in arms were the same everywhere.
"That was closer than I recall", Hijikata nodded, rolling his shoulder to get rid of the ache in his ribs. I guessed this was as close to a compliment as he would ever grant. But Heisuke's chest was puffed with pride.
"Still lost. But I'm not using my secret weapon, so I don't feel bad about it."
My eyes widened; if Heisuke had not been using his rasetsu powers, he would be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield when he went full blast. It was so easy to underestimate him because of his small stature and joviality…
I stood.
"Are you both alright?", I asked. It was no use being too obvious; Toshizō would probably snap if I asked him about his ribs. Heisuke grinned, handing the bokken with a mischievious smile.
"Kitsu, you're up. Fukuchō still has some energy to vent."
I blinked nervously, lifting my eyes to find Hijikata without his usual hakamashita. He now stood in his nagajuban, upper chest exposed as he wiped the sweat from his brow in the sleeve. Damn! He was so freaking handsome that I really didn't want to attack him with a wooden stick. He caught me staring, though, and a smirk lifted the corner of his lips.
I glared, promising retribution. I couldn't very well say it in the open, but if he had energy to spare, there were other ways than sparring to release it. Hijikata's eyes gleamed with intensity, and I knew there was no escaping this.
I doubted I could hold my own against him without my elvish blade anyway but well… If Heisuke marched against his Fukuchō without fear – and rasetsu powers – I might as well humour him. It wasn't often that Hijikata got to spar.
He set his sword aside in his favourite guard, both feet firmly planted in the ground like an ancestral tree. His eyes, though, looked at me warily; he knew, from our last encounter, that I wasn't a damsel in distress. Even though my hair was tied in a tight fench braid and I looked very innocent and feminine, Hijikata didn't underestimate me.
This instinctual show of respect warmed me up from within. I had no fighting stance; I went with the flow. From the outside, the scenery must have looked completely crazy. A grown man, determined and skilled, bristling with agressive energy facing a woman like me, standing still with my bokken barely raised. If only Sakura blooms could dance around us, it might have made a pretty painting. But this was the heart and winter, and the air bit my cheeks.
Hijikata grew tired of waiting and released a kiai that echoed into the very ground.
I loved him.
Every single bit of him.
I dodged, dancing away from the attack at the latest moment to avoid a countermeasure.
"Don't make me chase you, Kitsu", he growled.
I grinned; this was a lover's game, not a sparring match. He could be running after me in hopes of pinning me in his bed that the energy would be the same. Once more he came at me and I deflected, surprised by the strength behind his blows. Hijikata was an intense man, inside out; he never faltered. Sparring was no joke.
Time to counterattack. I slithered my way in, intend on coming too close for the usual moves, but he saw me coming and rapidly deflected. He was suprisingly light on his feet. My self defense moves were toast, now that I had taught them what they were. I though Fukuchō had only observed and gone on his merry way, but he must have been working on them behind my back.
I couldn't find an opening; I was clumsier with the bokken than with my elvish blade. Twice, I barely deflected in time and stumbled backwards. Fortunately, my instincts and dancing talents got me back on my feet and away from my opponent. Flexibility and agility were the only skills that saved me.
"Kitsuneko", someone sing songed in the background.
Sōji. I'd recognise that annoying voice anywhere.
I was sweating now, my heart pumping faster as I tried to escape Fukuchō's tide of attacks. With my two hands on the sword, I wasn't fast enough to guard both sides. Well, not skilled enough would be more correct. If, until then, I'd managed to twist just in time to escape his bokken, I got nailed this time. Hijikata neatly sliced my flank with his wooden sword and I froze. Defeated.
I nodded, then bowed in respect. He did the same.
"You hold yourself well", a voice rose. I wiped sweat with my sleeve to find Kondō on the engawa. At once, Hijikata's gaze darkened.
Uh oh. So he fought with Kondō. Would I dare asking about it, or better lay it to rest and offer a cup of sake?
"Perhaps you could show us your technique with the wakizashi. Saitō has mentionned you train with both hands. This is a technique we don't use often in Tennen Rishinryu."
I nodded thoughfully. Of course, I was fighting a master with a technique that wasn't my own. The fact that I had not been crushed within second was my own personal victory.
"Good idea", Sōji smirked. "I'll get it from your room. I want to see you kick Hijikata-san's ass."
My eyebrows knitted; did I have any chance of besting him, either way? Fukuchō snorted by my side, and my hackles rose at the challenge. Obvisouly, my lover didn't think I could hand his ass to him. I sent him a look both fond and exasperated.
"Challenge accepted, love", I whispered.
Well then, time to change the rules. The strict Bushido would have to crawl back to its resting place, because I was about to break it to pieces.
Okita was running back with the wooden wakisahi Harada had carved for me, and I took the weapon with glee. Sure, it was just a replica; my own blade's weight was pretty different, thanks to an indentation in the metal – bohi lines - that ran around a third of the blade. That Toshi had instructed the smith about the lenght of the bohi amazed me; he knew, exactly, how much metal to remove to suit my style and balance. It made a lighter sword, with less cutting weight, but more speed.
And having both hands suited me better; I felt more complete. Legolas would have a field day seeing me like this. The long blond hair and beautiful face of my past love faded, replaced by the serious features and dark hair of my current heart holder. No less handsome, no less dangerous. I'd only ever loved deadly men, after all. Warriors, all of them.
This time, Hijikata lifted his bokken in front of him in the usual stance, waiting for me. I didn't disappoint as I twisted my body, sword at the front, wakisashi held above my head, ready for a quick tsuki. Saitō's favourite stance, his Gatostu … without my side being open.
Kondō gasped. I smiled. I felt like, this time, the painting was complete. In this moment of elation, my muscles vibrated with anticipation.
I leapt forward, faking with the bokken only to land a harsh blow with the wakizashi. Hijikata dodged the first and parried the second in short time. I wasn't deterred; the momentum caused me to whirl around, the bokken chasing his blade while the wakisahi came to his neck. He dodged with a twirl and I smirked; this time, I was chasing him.
The fight became a dance. A dance with death. With both swords, I could slide more easily, evade and even jump. It didn't have to be so rigid, so technical. I just flowed with the blows, all the techniques learnt with elvish instructors infusing my body. An acrobat, swinging high and low, always in movement.
As Hijikata came at me full force, I slid my main blade against his, tucking the wakizashi under my sword arm as I pivoted, only to come back at him with a full swing of both wooden weapons within a breath of each other. He deviated the first by instinct, and barely had time for the second that brushed his thigh.
Fukuchō took a step back, panting as heavily as I was. We locked eyes, then, and I swore I saw pride reflected in his eyes.
My heartrate accelerated in glee. At last! I had won his respect as a fighter.
He wiped his brow with his sleeve, then took another stance, blade aimed high over his elbows, feet set apart. I heard Okita whistle from his position beside Kondō.
"Really, Hijikata-san, Hiratsuki?"
Hiratsuki, the move he had invented, and from which both Okita and Saitō's styles derived from. A technique that strayed from the strict Bushido to be more efficient in battle.
The commander's eyes narrowed, and I took my stance. He leapt at me so fast that I was nearly impaled upon his bokken, the reflex to twist and brush the blow aside saving me from a few cracked ribs… Both my blades paddled his like a windmill, and I barely had time to recover that he was upon me again. The Demon, unleashed, came with a mighty slice that would have made mincemeat out of me.
My blades circled me like a dance ribbon; I met his strike head on, crossing them over his own blade. The clash was so violent that we nearly crashed into each other, arms trembling from the strain of holding each other's momentum. Unfortunately, he was much stronger than I was. Hijikata grunted once more, pushing with all his might. In real combat, I'd be in a dire position, locked against an adversary like him.
His eyes were so focused, his whole will in the fight. Real combat indeed. Before my strength could fail, I suddenly slid the wakizashi away from the lock and twisted my upper body out of the way. His bokken jostled forward, passing an inch away from my elbow before Hijikata tumbled head first. I could only admire his reflexes are he righted himself before his head cracked upon the ground. I shouldn't have; one of his legs shot out, and caught me in the hip.
My turn to stumble; I choose to dive and roll away to keep my distance.
"Nee, Hijikata-san, fighting dirty?", Okita called out.
As I righted myself, I caught an amused twinkle in the commander's eyes. I returned it with humour, even though my arms felt like jelly, and my chest hurt from the exertion.
"What happened to the man that sneered at me for using kunoichi's manoeuvres?", I smirked. "What happened to the Bushido?"
"Ah", he groaned, producing that throaty sound I so adored. "Couldn't reveal all my skills at the time."
Sneaky man. I smiled, ready for another round even though my chest heaved as much as his. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Kondō bristle uncertainly.
"Don't break my page, Toshi", he warned.
"Tell her not to break me", he retorted, his voice dancing between a whine and a command.
I gasped at the compliment. Did he really consider us equals at this point? Sure, I was holding my own, but just barely. Hope and pride ran in my veins, and I lifted the wakizashi in a fighting stance once more. Hijikata resumed his hiratsuki pose.
"Ready, Kitsu?"
"Hai", I huffed.
"Then show me what you've got."
And his voice was full of wonder and curiosity. But even more so, resolve.
I charged this time, feigning with my sword only to use it to deflect his incoming blow, and slide closer. My wakisahi slid across his leg before he could retaliate and I found myself out of reach when he turned around, eyes wide.
In real life, Toshizō would have lost his left leg. So, he started balancing on his remaining leg, keeping the right one stiff. Kondō laughed this time, and Heisuke whooped; he was rooting for me. I, one the other hand, didn't chuckle.
A wounded beast was the most dangerous of all.
Hijikata was still impressive, even though he was barely moving. He wouldn't be able to pull those direct strikes at me, but his blade still danced too easily for my comfort. Now wasn't the time to lower my guard. I wasn't as comfortable being the assailant than the defendant. But I couldn't back down. Three pair of eyes awaited the coup de grâce.
And, more important, so did Toshizō. I exhaled slowly, trying to lower my heart rate as I faced the demon commander of the Shinsengumi. Just a man, my brain screamed. No, so much more than that, my heart sung. Neither of them won over that argument, for it was my intuition that provided me the real answer; danger. Hijikata, even stranded, oozed danger.
The wakizashi slid over my shoulder easily, positionned behind my head while the bokken came in a diagonal pose that didn't fit any of the Bushido's code. It didn't matter; whomever was guiding me right now was in charge. I leapt at him with a furious kiai, unleashing a flurry of blows that he met head on. Given his disability, he kept pivoting, his bokken deflecting my swords with too much ease. When his blade couldn't do the work, he didn't hesitate to shove me away. Twice already, his elbow had connected with my ribcage and back.
Despite his lithe built, I knew I'd be knocked out if his fist got to my face. Would he dare? I had, after all, unleashed the demon. Hijikata was fighting with everything he had now, just like a wounded animal would. I needed to keep away from his body.
Frustrated, I twirled around and used the distance to open him. My blades threw his aside with a quick jab. While our hands were busy deflecting swords, my leg shot up in a high kick that caught him in the shoulder and send him tumbling. In his fall, he freed his bokken and jabbed; I barely had time to parry before he fell to the ground. Leaping forward, I pinned his sword arm under my foot, both my blades framing his throat.
A little commotion came from our spectators; I tuned them out in favour of watching Toshizō's face. He didn't seem so surprised at having been bested. That spark of pride only grew in his eyes while he watched me, a smile blooming upon his face, hair askew.
"I yield", he gasped.
Had I won? Really? Truthfully? The notion felt so preposterous that I nearly shook my head in disbelief. When, Toshizō's eyes flashed with amusement, I felt like kissing him senseless. Sweat and dirt included.
Laughter bubbled in my chest as I gathered both blades in one hand, and offered the other one to the supposedly wounded man. His fingers gripped mine, accepting the peace offering for what it was. I gave a mighty pull, and he came to his feet with the strength of an oak tree plunging his roots into the ground. I sent him a fond look, and was surprised to find softness in his eyes when I lightly squeezed his hand.
The sound of clapping called both of our attention away from each other.
There stood a young man I'd never seen at the compound. Green kimono, high ponytail and hair a shade lighter than Kondō's, he sported an inquisitive look. Then, a grin broke over his face, bright and radiant, and I felt Toshizō's tension diffuse.
I'm proud to say I wrote most of this on my own, for once. Even though my stunt manager showed me a few moves.