Days passed. Cold, with grey hanging skies that promised more snow, but didn't deliver. A morose atmosphere where we all waited for Kondō to return. Toshizō was on edge, much more than usual, and it didn't help my mood. Yet, I still helped him sort out his paperwork. By now, he had accepted to delegate menial tasks, mainly logistics. My strict sense of organisation equalled to his, so I was able to handle some of the Shinsengumi's needs on my own.
I was working in his room, freezing my ass beside the brazier, when he returned from whatever errand he'd had to run. A string of curses caused me to lift my head. What had the Baka trio done again? Or was it Okita?
My eyes found his, and the piercing glare he sent me caused me to freeze wih the brush midair. Uh Oh. Eventually, he sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose in that exasperated expression I adored. Then, fast as a snake, he reached for my hair and took the pin away…
The pin.
Oh… Damn. It wasn't a hair pin; I'd stolen his brush, the other day, because I left in a hurry and had to secure my hair. And failed to return it.
I'm in trouble.
"Damnit, Kitsu !", he growled, shaking the brush in front of my eyes. I had to refrain the urge to snatch it back; cat's instincts. "I had to ask Yukimura to get me a new one and she was ready to perform seppuku because the first one was lost."
I reddened shamefully. Poor Chizuru, I wasn't making her life easier with my habit to pick up stuff and put it down anywhere. Anywhere meaning I'd once found my hairbrush in the fridge. My mind was always so busy that I so often failed at remembering what I had done with the things I held.
Long-term memory: badass. Short term memory: catastrophic.
"Gomen nasai," I stuttered with a bow. Hair tumbled down my shoulders, free of its securing brush. Hijikata knelt on the other side of his desk, and his expression softened.
"You need to stop stealing things like a cat," he told me, his eyes crinkling in repressed amusement. "You need to stop calling me Kitsuneko," I retorted with a tentative grin.
Toshizō snorted; I poured a cup of warm tea for him, and handed him the recipient. "How is it that I can't stay mad at you?" he asked. I frowned; I remembered vividly pleading him to stop looking at me with anger. Those days weren't so far away…
"You've been mad at me for a lifetime."
Toshizō didn't respond as he shifted on his knees, his gaze distant. Sometimes, it felt like he was hiding things from me, things about why he'd been so angry with me in the first place. The next moment, that peculiar light left his eyes and he reached for a loose strand. A hum passed his lips while he absently played with a stray lock.
"You know," he eventually said absently. "Unbound hair was fashionable in the Heian period. You really are a woman of the past…"
I waited, feeling him tug upon a curl. His eyes were intense, but his mind far away.
"Today, it is saved for husbands…"
A slight blush crept up my cheek; there was such a big fuss around hair keeping here. Something about the Shinto teaching that the body was inherited from our ancestors and must be taken care of. Tousled hair, bad hygiene and beards were considered filthy, or the apanage of ghosts. Thusly, combs and hair adornments had a sacred place in their world. I wondered idly what Kondō would have thought of King Arthur's rowdy knights … or Aragorn as a ranger.
Regarding the husband thing, though… I certainly knew that in the Edo period, going gallivanting around the compound with my hair down would be akin to me walking out naked. So I nodded.
"That's why I stole your brush. I was running late, and didn't want the guys to see me without a bun or a braid." Strangely, Toshizō's features hardened.
"The braid is bad enough. Shinpachi always stares when you keep it trailing."
I couldn't help but grin at the bout of jealousy, and watched him pick up a paper before I played the coy cat. "Really? Well … too bad."
"He is completely infatuated with you," came the stern reply. I lifted my eyes to find Hijikata stubbornly staring at his work, his jaw tight. Shinpachi had now caught that I wasn't interested, and kept his staring discreet enough. Perhaps Harada had talked to him, who knew? In any case, he'd always been respectful enough. If not, I would have used the 'ice cone smile' that froze people in place any day. "Do you know what happens to the men that approach me in general?" I chortled.
Hijikata snorted, the brush painting kanji on paper.
"I have a fairly good idea."
"Anyway," I mused, as if talking to myself. "Shinpachi is way too loud. It's the quiet ones that are more interesting." His brush didn't pause, his attention completely captivated by the lines he was tracing. I took a moment to observe the elegant movement of his arm until he set the item down and looked me in the eye.
"Saitō, uh?"
Two can play this game, his eyes told me.
"Don't be silly…", I smirked. "He's way too young to be satisfying."
Something flickered in his eyes, a spark of possessiveness that he didn't manage to quell in that little game of ours. Toshizō usually wore his emotions so freely that the blank mask surprised me. To be shielded from his thoughts was unsettling; what I would give to pry open that beautiful mind.
"So you're into old men?" he asked, pinning me into place with a playful glare.
Old men… With Legolas being five hundred something, and Stephen forty-five, I definitely had chased older companions before. I rolled my eyes. How would he react if he knew my elvish fiancé was five centuries older than he?
"You have no idea. But enough of my exes. You know very well who I'm interested in here."
His features gave nothing away as he questioned further. "So why the quiet ones?" Ah. A good question indeed. I circled the desk to sit by his side, and laid a gentle hand upon his jaw.
"It feels like… Every laugh is a victory, every smile a present. It's like coaxing an animal out of its shell, discovering one layer after another."
"So it's for the challenge," he deadpanned.
Man, he really is going to kill me! Somehow, insecurities were spilling forth, twisted around in a little mind game for which I had no skill. I couldn't help but be truthful.
"No. It's because I see what's inside. Because those people have some depth, layers upon layers. It's always a discovery, a surprise."
Sometimes, what I found inside wasn't much to my taste. But some discoveries were worth the world to me. And he was, by far, one of the best… His eyes flashed in understanding. "You mean like an Oni Vice commander that writes Haiku?"
I felt a true smile curl my lips, and my hand caressed the smooth angle of his jaw before letting go. "Yes, I mean exactly that."
"You've found the right spot then," he nodded. I laid my head upon his shoulder and sighed, my arm squeezing his waist. "By your side, yes. It is pretty comfy."
We remained thus a moment, just enjoying the closeness and shared body warmth. Until his voice rumbled in his chest, shaking me out of my reverie.
"Am I being paranoid, Kitsu?"
I surmised this had to do with Kondō-san. And even if it didn't, there were so many things to worry about when you were Vice Commander of that lot. Kyokuchō handled politics and external affairs, while Sanan worked on the inside. It left Fukuchō with the planning of troops, training, and handling of military issues. "It's your job to be paranoid, right?"
Frank disbelief coloured his eyes before Hijikata shook his head.
"I didn't expect to find a woman that agrees with me."
I bet this didn't have to do with everyday issues, but rather the way he handled his troops, or sent them to death. After all, he'd been graced with inklings of the future to protect his men properly.
"Tristan was the same. Arthur was a great leader, people followed him because he was inspiring … wait, just like Kondō-san."
Funny, I had not recognised the pattern here. A kind hearted leader with one hell of a drive, and a man that stuck to the shadows to ensure everyone was safe. In the fifth century, I'd chosen to stick with Tristan and help him keep his friends safe. Just like I stood by Fukuchō's side…
The guardian. The Keeper of Time was a guardian, working from the shadows as well. Seeking to alleviate the burden. Toshizō shifted beside me, forcing me to move aside.
"Something is fishy, Kitsu. Do you feel it too?"
"Hai, I agree."
What were we going to do about it? Depleting our forces would be noticed, for sure. And the men who would venture out there would be thrown in the face of danger, outnumbered by too many foes. Perhaps a sneakier detachment, without the blue haori?
"Fukuchō!"
The cry echoed from the courtyard, desperate, and we both jumped to our feet.
Fuck, too late.
Toshizō threw the shoji open, nearly breaking it in the process. I darted in his wake, finding Yamazaki outside.
"Okita-san... a bullet."
I gasped, blood draining from my face. Damn it! My stomach lurched as I jumped into my awaiting leather boots. We'd gone to such length to cure him from tuberculosis. He couldn't end like this !
"Go," Hijikata commanded. Yamazaki took off at full speed, and Toshizō barely had time to slide on his sandals that he disappeared at the corner of the building. He led us to the gates where Shinpachi and Harada were hoisting up a barely conscious Okita.
Toshizō's yell froze my insides; I'd never heard him more terrified.
"Sōji!" If the first captain still wondered how the commander felt, it was written plainly on his distraught features. The sight broke my heart, just as much as Chizuru, crying her eyes out on the side.
"My fault…", she hiccuped. "My fault…"
"What happened?" Fukuchō demanded, stopping her in her tracks. Harada and Shinpachi didn't wait for us, and Chizuru's eyes followed the prone form of her lover with despair.
"Yukimura !", Hijikata barked in hopes of shaking her out of the shock. But the young woman only gaped like a fish out of water; it was only a matter of time before she passed out. I gathered Chizuru in my arms to offer support; she was shaking like a leaf.
"Give her a minute," I pleaded. "Let's get Sōji to the infirmary first."
Hijikata just nodded, long strides taking him away from us both. My heart clenched as I watched the long ponytail swish with every angry step. War had begun. Would Sōji be the first the many casualties? Chizuru resumed her silent crying, trying to hold back sobs that spilled from her lips without mercy. "My brother…", she stuttered.
I lifted a curious eyebrow, but led her to the infirmary firmly.
"Uh?"
"Kaoru," she stuttered. "He lured me out to the shrine…", she said, hiccupping between heavy sobs. "He … he shot Okita-san. Please, please." And I knew she wasn't talking to me anymore. The infirmary was crowded, and I spotted Sanan beside Yamazaki, actively working on Sōji's chest. I couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the bullet. If it had missed vitals organs, he might still have a chance. If not…
I inhaled sharply, finding myself face to face with Fukuchō once more. Agony danced in his eyes, and I longed to wind myself around him rather than hold Chizuru aloft. But he still stood, where the little lady couldn't. As Sanan pushed most of us out with authority, we found ourselves cramped in the corridor, waiting.
Slowly, Chizuru began to unravel her story. Kaoru – her twin brother – had lured her out to the shrine where her father awaited. Then… Okita had shown up, and prevented them from taking her away by force. Toshizō's face turned livid, his shoulders slumping wearily.
"I told him to watch after you…", he sighed.
Chizuru still shook in my arms, and when the door opened once more, she escaped my grasp to latch onto Okita's hand. Toshizō followed, kneeling beside the wounded man. Sweat had gathered on Okita's skin, and he was pale like a ghost, even worse than when he used to die of tuberculosis. Behind the futon, Sanan's grey eyes stared. Worried.
I knelt and brushed a droplet of sweat off Okita's brow; I would have given the world to see the infamous smirk upon his face.
"Why didn't you warn me, Sōji?" Fukuchō asked shakily.
The commanding tone was gone, his voice wavering with vulnerability. Green eyes opened with great difficulty. "No time," Okita gasped.
I clenched my teeth, watching Chizuru's knuckles whiten over his hand. Would Okita have to take that blasted Ochimizu to survive? Did they have any antibiotics left in case of infection? I'd given it all to Yamazaki…
Sanan approached Okita's futon by my side, and gave the youth a gentle smile.
"Rest, Okita-kun," his silky voice said.
"Nii-san," he rasped. Big Brother. Then his head rolled to the side. I thought he'd lost consciousness when his eyes opened once more, piercing Hijikata.
"Kaoru… he… Kondō-san." Dread descended upon me like a cold wave as I caught the Vice Commander's gaze. This was the confirmation of our fears. I steeled my spine, resolved.
"I'm going."
It wasn't a request. Hijikata nodded fiercely; if he couldn't join because the Fukuchō was needed, he'd do the next best thing and send me in his place. I imagined without issue how his own limbs must be itching to go after that bastard and finish him.
"Take Shinpachi. He's our best tracker."
I was out of the room before he could breathe out.