The night was cold and wet; it smelt of snow, once more, but the temperature wouldn't drop enough. It left us with a little hail, and those horrible icy winds that froze people to the core. Thus, we sat, face to face, hands hovering over the hibachi. Both lost in thought in companionable silence. For once, Toshizō's paperwork didn't pile up.
"He's gone," he rumbled. "Left for Ōsaka with his men. Stay close to Harada during patrol, and refrain from looking magical", he instructed.
Refrain form looking magical.
I almost rolled my eyes, but kept silent; I respected Toshizō's worrisome nature. None of us wanted the Shōgun to lay his hands on me after all. Separation would be painful to both of us, and with the war brewing… The fact that the Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi would hide me in the first place was an immense show of trust. Was it payback for keeping Ochimizu secret ?
I knew Fukuchō was meeting Yamazaki this evening, and realised he had put the Watch over the matter of Iba Hachirō's visit today.
I liked the tengu, and I hated that my presence nearly caused a strife between him and the Vice commander. Fukuchō didn't have so many friends; his role in the Shinsengumi prevented him from gaining new ones. Being at the top always came at this price; either you could rely on figures of the past, either your path remained lonely.
Well, except for people like me who loved to pierce masks.
"I'm sorry, Toshi."
He directed a playful glare my way.
"Don't start. I have enough apologising from Chizuru."
I nibbled on my lower lip, wondering if I should push the issue. Then, I decided that I couldn't help who I was. Every decision had been done in good intelligence with the Shinsengumi's commanders. I abided by their will after all.
Dark eyes watched me intently, probably wondering how spooked I was by the notion that the Shōgun might have wanted me to hold a banner. Or worse. The Shinsengumi had slaved for years for the very same goal after all. Pop up with a magical sword and red hair, and the deed was done. How unfair !
The truth was that I had many questions to ask, and didn't quite dare. Even though he looked exhausted, Toshizō was in a much better mood than this afternoon. The strife between Kondō and himself seemed resolved … or at least, put to rest in the light of more urgent matters.
Namely, Iba Hachirō's visit.
"How many languages do you speak, Kitsu?"
The deep, rich sound of his voice washed over me like a gentle wave, warming my insides more efficiently than the pitifu ambers laying at my feet. I bet Toshi referred to my ridiculous attempt to speak something remotely Viking … which had, by chance, been deflected by Iba's thoughfullness.
"Er… I'm not sure."
His eyebrows nearly collided in a comical heap. "You don't know?"
Actually, no. I loved languages – much more than maths - but tended to pick up a bit of this and that through the course of my travels and studies. Which meant I cross referenced, and knew the basics of numerous languages. Three of them I mastered truthfully, the rest, not so much.
"I speak French, English and Spanish fairly well. A bit of latin, a tad of Norwegian and Sindarin."
"And Japanese", he added.
I cringed. "Well, not really."
His bafflement escaped in an adorable squeak, and I launched into a hasty explanation that had so many holes in it that it was a wonder he didn't commit me to the nuthouse.
"The necklace kinda loads in my minds the knowledge of the local language. It's a trick from my Gods to allow me to interact, but I don't speak it consciously. When I return home, I don't remember any of it, expect the things I applied myself to learn."
After returning from middle earth, I had realised that I remembered some Sindarin, because I actually created brain routes to learn it when I had no recollection of the common tongue. I remembered entire conversations and their meaning, but not the words. It was pretty frustrating to try and revisit songs when rhymes were broken.
"And you say you're not magic…", he mused. "But shouldn't you forget Japanese now that the necklace is …?"
Well, trust Toshizō to rub salt in the wound. But I didn't resent him for stating the truth.
"I think it modifies something in my brain when I travel."
Just like the Alteeran device modified Colonel O'Neill's mind whenever he got caught by the machines. But I wasn't about to start speaking of Stargates and such. The concept of the Keeper of Time was already way too foreign to add aliens in the mix.
"I'm not. The Keeper of Time's necklace can be considered magic, but I am not."
Deep, dark eyes regarded me as if I had grown two heads.
"You have a magic blade", he deadpanned.
I huffed; this was an argument I could never win. And who cared it technology was called magic? I had actually no idea how Glorfindel had managed to infuse that soul binding thing into the blade. Would I ever know?
Toshizō studied me for a moment, and I returned the favor. The low light always carved his face so beautifully, the bangs framing him with dark curtains of silk. He looked like a woman's fantasy come to life.
"How about dutch?"
Frances blinked. Clever man, never one to be sidetracked. People didn't give him enough credit, fooled by his temper. He was as sly as they came.
"Yeah, well", I admitted sheepishly. "I gave Iba-san a bit of Norwegian. Viking is viking, right? It is close enough to danish and dutch that he nearly bought it."
"Almost", my companion confirmed.
I nibbled upon my lower lip. Education for the samurai cast was a big deal, and they learnt Dutch as a foreign language because those traders were the only ones allowed in the country. The Hatamoto had understood what I meant, but frowned upon both pronounciation and words.
"Yeah, almost. Fortunately, he is very polite. He didn't want to tell me I probably sounded like a fisherman's wife."
Toshizō's lips curled before his expression soured. "He's a good man. I hated lying to him."
What could I say? That I was glad to hear Hijikata unveil his emotions, even though I had no trouble guessing how frustrating that confrontation had been.
"Technically, none of us lied. And I'm not a Kitsune either."
The stern look he addressed me was enough to convey his feeling on the matter. When his jaw tightened, though, I felt the full span of the anger he'd felt this afternoon.
"You play the part fairly well. And you're magical in other ways. I couldn't allow the Shōgun to use you as a symbol."
His confession caused my heart to thump in adoration and I found myself smiling at him.
"Arigatō gozaimashita. For what you've done for me."
He looked at me as if I had grown two heads. "We protect our own, and I want you with us when that stupid situation blows up."
There were too many layers embedded in that confession and hope swelled in my breast.
"I am deeply touched by both your support and Kondō-san's", I murmured. "I am glad I earned my place in the Shinsengumi."
This time, he bent over the brazier to capture me in the depth of his gaze. I dove inside his dark orbs without shame, breath shallow as I awaited for him to decide where he wanted this conversation to lead us.
"As I said, you are one of us. Besides… I am getting rather attached."
My heart leapt in joy at the impromptu confession, and I covered it with a joke; Toshi wasn't the only one facing difficulties voicing emotions.
"That's the winter talking", I quipped. "I'm warming your futon."
A slight blush dusted his cheekbones and I chuckled when he reclined. I didn't get much time to mourn his absence as he reached over his desk, and fished out a little item wrapped in colourful paper.
"There. I have heard that Christians exchange gifts for Christmas."
I gaped when he presented the item to me with the proper ceremonial.
"But I don't have anything for you."
He dismissed my protest with a shake of his head, and I had no choice but to take the proferred present with both hands and a bow of my own. Traditionnaly, gifts weren't meant to be opened in front of the people who offered them. But in that case I wasn't going anywhere; I seldom slept in my rooms those days. Sensing my hesitation, Toshizō lifted his chin, eyes blazing in the dark. His bravado seemed to hide insecurities, and I wondered what was so important to unsettle my Oni no Fukuchō.
"Go on, open it."
Still a little stunned, I gently unwrapped the small item, finding a dark lackered haircomb. Breath hitching, I passed my thumb over the delicately carved flowers, marvelling that it reflected the dancing flames. Golden colours mingling with reds and whites in an exquisite display. A traditional adornment for my hair. I hoped Chizuru would show me how to secure it, and that the texture of my strands would allow such a thing.
"I … thank you", I stuttered, then caught his eyes. "A lot. It is beautiful."
Toshizō nodded, eyes sparkling with satisfaction. Harada had mentionned that hair ornaments were prized gifts between lovers, and I found myself puzzled. Suddenly, I felt the foolish need for reassurance.
"Does it mean you appreciate me?"
His eyes flashed. He moved so fast that I gasped when his arms circled me. The burning passion within his dark orbs caused a shiver to run up my spine in anticipation.
"What do you think?" he whispered, sealing his lips to mine in a kiss that left me breathless. The truth was that I couldn't think when his arms held me so close, and his lips hoovered over mine to tentatively. I reached up for a little more, fingers snaking at his nape as I kissed him. His scent reached my nose, bringing me warmth and peace, and I wound my other arm around his slender waist.
In the secret of the night, he was nothing more than a man. A wonderful, delicious man. I pulled away after a while, in need of air – I still had not recovered at full capacity. A lazy smile curled my lips when I caught his slighty dazed state, and I caressed his sharp jaw. Where the Oni Vice Commander was unyielding, the person beneath was very sweet.
"How about you, Kitsu?", he whispered, searching my eyes for an answer. There was uncertainty swirling within their depth; the fear to be found wanting because of his father's origins. The Samurai cast had dominated the Japanese social ladder for so long now … didn't he see that, in my eyes, he was the epitome of a knight? A samurai, before corruption ate away their principles?
I love you.
But the words refused to pass my lips, so I setted for more formality.
"Your affection honours me."
"I don't quite see why, but I'll take it nonetheless", he murmured. "Honour is nothing to laugh at."
"No. And you are nothing to laugh at either. I was born in a hardworking family. My parents are teachers, my grand parents worked in a factory. But in middle earth, Kings and immortal Lords called me a lady. And the King himself was called many foul names before he rose to power because they couldn't see his worth."
His eyebrow rose, keen interest written upon his face.
"Indeed?"
If you'd seen Strider after a month in the wilds…
"Aye. King Elessar sometimes looked like a beggar. But his heart was golden. Nobility come from who you are, not whom you were born to. You are a warrior through and through."
Blush dusted his cheekbones, but the seriousness of his gaze kept me trapped as words rolled from his tongue in silent thunder.
"We were all ronins here, Kitsu, before becoming Hatamotos", Hijikata sighed, gaze glued to the floor. His tone was low, almost defeated. Resigned to be always shunned, even though they had climbed social ranks with alacrity.
"You are a samurai as he ought to be. Like those knights of old, the people we'll sing songs about after they are gone and… I admire you for it."
The wide look I received told me I'd struck a chord. For a moment, I wondered if that extra shine to his eyes existed only in my imagination. When he swallowed thickly, though, I knew I wasn't dreaming.
"Arigatō, Kitsu", he rumbled shakily.
I just pulled him against me, arms winding around his shoulders in a hug. He felt so warm, so welcoming, even though his body was that of a fighter. Hijikata was far from soft, inside out, but I yearned for his touch like a starving woman. In this harsh world, his affection and respect were worth the world to me.
And that conversation was over; my feelings exposed, I felt the need for a lighter mood.
"Can I undress you myself, this time?" His lips curled in a familiar smirk, not so cocky to be annoying, but entirely to endearing to resist.
"Let's see if you can pull it off."
I smirked. "Challenge accepted."
soooo, any of you knows what gifting a woman hair ornaments meant ? :D