"Are you out of your mind !"
She started, wide eyes fixed upon me. Silence settled in the room like a brewing storm as I tried to reign in my reaction, namely, quell the urge to knock her unconscious. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a long, nice inhale to ground myself.
"You're exhausted," I tried to reason. "Even more so than us."
What did she think she could accomplish ? The angry red line upon her face taunted me, pointing out how powerless I was. Disfigured, on my watch, because of my orders ! Why didn't she understand ? My chest constricted painfully, the ache from earlier resurfacing as thoughts wandered to the past few hours.
"But my blade is the only one that can take those cannons easily. If the corps can sneak me up there, I can reduce it to pieces in less than a minute."
Anger and disbelief mingled in my mind, and for the first time in ages, I found myself unable to respond. Fortunately, Saitō cut in before the argument could escalate.
"You'll never get up there with the strength you have left."
My heart lurched at the expression on Kitsu's face; a slap would have been less efficient than Saitō's brutal statement of the truth. She could not ignore that despite his incredible skills, our third captain had just failed at taking that blasted hill; he wasn't a Rasetsu. And neither was she, thank Amaterasu for small victories ! When her eyes turned to Kondō-san, my fists clenched. If he relented to her catlike plea… I sighed in relief when he shook his head at the silent demand.
Miffed, she turned to her closest ally. Sanan-san cocked his head aside and stood, dusting imaginary crumbs from his hakamas.
"You should have taken a nap if you wanted to go out tonight; Kitsu-chan."
I frowned.
Kitsu-chan ! Such familiarity, what is he playing at ?
The young woman gaped in disbelief as I watched a hint of dark humour sparkle in Sanan's grey eyes, seconded by a shade of sadistic satisfaction. Damn him, his former self would have appeased the situation without the need to be hurtful.
But my friend had changed. And despite the support he was providing by keeping Kitsu in line, I couldn't help but reprove his need to cut her down. Her jaw clenched and she steeled her spine, shedding the hurt like an aikidoka dodged an attack.
"That was plain cruel, Sanan-san."
I heard someone gasp in the room; no one called out Sanan on his shit. But after taking a hit from both Saitō and he, she still found the courage to do so. The Colonel bore holes into her, a smirk bloomed at the corner of his lips, sending shivers down my spine.
"Didn't you know ? I am a cruel man. Blame the Ochimizu, but it granted me more brute strength than you will ever have."
Exasperated, I was about to intervene but Sanan pinned me with a warning look.
"Bind her if need be."
Such words, delivered with unsettling smoothness ! I had inklings that, perhaps, Sanan-san felt some measure of jealousy for Kitsu's choice, when their minds connected so well. Yet, this crossed the line.
"Enough," I growled, unwilling to make a spectacle in front of the others. Too late. Kitsu stumbled upright and stormed out of the room with a huff. Dreading her recklessness, I scrambled to my feet to prevent her from jumping in the fray; my muscles screamed at the sudden move, and I ignored them.
"Where are you going?" I yelled.
"To drown myself in the well!" she called back with such venom that it stopped me in my tracks. Bursting at the seams, I whirled around on Sanan-san.
"Did you have to be so brutal?", I sneered, barely keeping it together.
It had been one hell of a day, and that internal dispute was the last straw. For once, I did not care a bit that our captains would see us disagree, united front blown to bits. Sanan-san didn't miss a beat, but his eyes were harder than steel.
"There was only one way to keep her from rushing up there, Hijikata-kun."
To make her feel inadequate.
The winds left my sails and I sighed, rubbing my forehead warily. Damn war. Damn Shōgun. Damn Satchō.
"I'll talk to her," Harada offered, and I could only nod. Even though the tenth captain agreed with us, he would have less trouble smoothing Frances' feathers.
"The corps will leave when the sun dips," Sanan-san stated.
Lips pursed, I exchanged a look with Kondō-san and acquiesced silently. The colonel left at once, unwilling to stir my ire further.
"Fukuchō ?"
Voice tentative, Yamazaki approached me as if I was a wounded beast. I took a deep breath and turned to our faithful medic. "Yamazaki?"
"You all should rest. I can keep you apprised of any changes."
Weary faces told me the idea held a lot of appeal. Kondō-san, himself, seemed to be suffering from his wound. Outside, the pounding of the cannons had ceased; they obviously didn't want to waste their bullets on a sleeping compound. Who knew how long we would have before the next attack ?
"Hai. Get some rest, all of you," I ordered.
"Hai, Fukuchō," they responded in kind.
Futons were unrolled, and our captains settled at once, mostly dressed. Saitō did not even shed his plastron, and I wondered whether I should keep it on as well. Harada returned not long after and we exchanged a long, loaded look before he sank into his futon and closed his eyes.
Fidgeting with the buckles of my armour, I wondered whether I should just sink into oblivion, or leave in pursuit of my paramour. I was so weary that I couldn't take any more antagonism tonight. Deciding on another course of action, I set her changing screen up and dragged my own futon to the other side. The bruises at my hip protested at the awkward manoeuvre, but I wouldn't be deterred. What was the point of hiding when one of us could be dead tomorrow ?
Kitsu wouldn't be able to lie down tonight because of her head injury. Unwilling to be separated as death loomed over us, I propped myself over the wall and closed my eyes, protected from prying onlookers.
Slumber greeted me fast enough, until a sharp intake of breath caused my internal awareness to flare. There she was, hair slightly wet and bound tight, hazel eyes almost gray in the dim light. The slump of her shoulders betrayed her state her mind, and I lifted the blanket by my side.
"Come," I commanded.
Her features softened at the invitation and she knelt beside me with a murmur.
"Why are you sitting?"
"You shouldn't lie down," I retorted as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The least I could do what to support her as she healed. Her brows furrowed, a protest at the tip of her tongue. Debating whether to use the Oni look or to silence her with a kiss, I opted for a pointed stare.
As if she'd read my mind, Kitsu's lips moulded over mine in a silent caress before she nestled by my side. Her wound free temple found my shoulder cautiously, and she heaved a great sigh of relief that reverberated in my very soul. Her trust did not diminish the anguish of losing so many men, but it stroked something deep within; the feeling of being adequate, at least, to someone.
She melted in my embrace, her weight gently draped over me. The quiet companionship was all it took for my body to slacken, fingers searching her own to intertwine, as if they belonged together.
The Fukuchō seeped out of me, leaving behind a man laden with too many fears. The fear of failure, or disappointing Kondō-san and the Bakufu. The fear of leaving Kyōto at the hands of murderous SatChō. Of losing his honour in this war, his status. But, most of all, he feared losing more of his men. His friends and captains.
But mostly, her…
The Vice Commander, buckling under pressure for the first time, all because of this tiny woman. Tiny and fierce like a yōkai, our very own Kitsune. Guardian of Kyōto indeed. Today, many men were saved by putting her at risk. Like every general before me, I faced the difficult choice of sacrifice. One person, hanging in the balance against our troops.
To think I had pushed friends to seppuku, people I never wanted to see dead, but had abided by the code. To think Itō had escaped and, somehow, saved some of our men in the process. Ironic. Hypocrite.
It pained me, already, to send my captains into the fray without knowing if they would return. I had befriended those men, nurtured the youngest like an older brother, a stern figure. We were a family, for better or worse, trying to withstand the mighty storm of revolution. Yet, we stood together; the burden of leading falling into my lap. And Frances was part of it now, just like Chizuru.
Every single instinct hounded me to lock her away from the battle. She would scream bloody murder and resent me for life, but she would be alive. Was it worth it ? Was her life worth dishonour ? None of us were strangers to seppuku, neither to sacrifice. The ultimate honour, after dying in battle. All of us were ready to die for honour's sake, so why couldn't I bestow upon her the same courtesy ? Why did the very though twist my guts so painfully ?
Kitsu was the guardian of Kyōto, and I, its protector for the past years. A symbol. I couldn't keep her away from duty, it would disgrace both she and I. Yet, the yearning to keep her safe gnawed at my conscience. Today… today, I thought I had lost her. In this fateful moment, when the others had slowly tickled back into the room, defeated, my heart had just stopped beating.
I'd felt anguish before, the weight of stress and the pressure to prevail no matter what. But this pain, this agony twisting in my chest at the idea that, maybe, she was lost had threatened to overtake me. A warrior I am, tch !
"Tomorrow you'll stay by my side," I whispered in her ear. "It's just too distracting to wonder whether you are..."
"Hai," she responded with both determination and awe.
Whatever my command had inspired in her remained a mystery, eluded by my own questionings. Namely, the fact that her arrival meant my death.
Gen-san was prodding her skull with gentle fingers, the mop of reddish hair so out of place in our endemic sea of straight black hair. Ringlets, matted with blood, caused alarms to flare to life in my head.
"Not a girl again !" I swore, fed up with complications.
By my side, Sōji smirked.
"No, Hijikata-san. Not a girl, don't think we can hide her with a hakama this time."
She moaned in pain and twisted in Gen-san's arms, her delicate features appearing to my perusal. I gasped in shock; the sight of her face was like a punch to the gut. The little chin, high cheekbones, arched eyebrows… Her eyes were scrunched close, but I knew their colour oscillated between light brown and gold when the light hit it right. They would, one day, gaze down upon me with raw pain.
I saw the tears fall from those almond shaped eyes, felt the caress of her hand over my skin as I took my last breath, pierced by a bullet that crushed my lungs. I was drowning in my own blood, drowning in those beloved arms that refused to let go.
"Hijikata-san ?", Gen-san asked, shocking me out of my trance. "What should we do ?"
My mouth opened, then closed. Kill her, and impair the vision ? If she dies now, I will not take that bullet. Or I would, but there would be no one to hold me, to love me as I died… If the Kami willed it, who was I to defy them ? Demon Vice Commander I may be, but to spurn them would be to sign a death warrant.
"Nothing," I responded.
I would just have to stay away. After all, she was just a woman. A gaijin. How difficult could it be to ignore her ?
Kitsu's thumb caressed my skin under the blanket, and I responded in kind, warm skin upon warm skin. She knew, now, that her arrival marked the beginning of my demise, the distant echo of my death, a harbinger of doom. To think I had tried to hate her for it, to stay away… A fool's hope; Kitsu was too intriguing to ignore, too lovable not to succumb.
"Sleep," I commanded, kissing the top of her hair.
"Arigato gozaimasu," she yawned.
Her breathing evened out and my shoulders relaxed under the reassuring weight of her body. Warm and welcoming. Just as slumber overtook her mind, a gentle voice caressed my ear "I love you, Toshi."
A hum was my only response.
I did love her too. And I would love her even if it killed me.