A hand shook me awake gently, and I found a set of worried eyes locked with mine. I groaned; Hijikata's eyebrows dipped in a frown.
"I'll clean the wound, you'll show me how to work the rest."
His low rumble washed over me like a benevolent wave, gentle and soothing. The others were gone, and the sun almost set. I blinked the weariness away and winced when Toshizō tried to clear the blood away. It had crusted, and I had to bite my lip to avoid from crying out. Pain irradiated down into my jaw, pulsating like a goddamn pendulum inside my skull.
Toshizō's hands were warm and methodical, his gaze focused, but his breath slightly ragged. In the haze of my pain, I failed at recognising how badly he needed me in this moment. Another soft contact and I hissed in displeasure. Damn, it stung!
"I thought all of you were gone".
The overwhelming admittance caused my eyes to open wide. Then, his voice dropped to a murmur as I caught his eyes. "I thought I had lost you."
I'd never seen him so vulnerable. Chest aching, I grabbed his free hand – it shook – and interlaced our fingers. "I feared for you, too," I breathed. Something unrecognisable flashed in his eyes and I found the courage to smile, careful not to pull upon the split skin of my face. "But we're both here. Just another day in the office, eh?"
Toshizō's lips curled and he squeezed my hand back before grabbing a bottle of something. He dropped a few droplets of liquor onto a clean cloth and set it upon the wound. Fire exploded upon my cheekbone, a whimper escaping as I struggled.
"Damnit," I hissed.
Dark eyes melted with concern, and regret washed over his face when his other hand cradled my uninjured cheek to keep me still. "Sorry, Kitsu. It has to be done."
I merely nodded, releasing – in my mind – a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. In French. I sought Hijikata's warm touch to try and keep the pain at bay. To think I had some antiseptic wipes in my bag ! Another swipe, and he was done with the alcohol. The sting receded to a throbbing pain, and I eventually managed to inhale properly.
Toshizō dropped a kiss to my lips before he released my cheek, the feeling of his warm breath caused my insides to coil in happiness. For a moment, I could only gaze upon his handsome face, and thank the Valar for both of our lives.
Shuffles coming from the engawa pushed us away as people passed by, and he offered his hand to help me stand.
"Show me how to put those bug bandages."
"Butterfly bandage," I sniggered.
Hijikata nodded, discarding both bowl and rags outside as I fished the strips out of my medical supplies. I sat again in the corner I slept in, and showed Hijikata how to pull both sides of the gash to secure them with steri strips. I had given my suturing glue to Yamazaki, and didn't doubt all of it was gone by now. This would have to do. Careful hands worked upon the gash, placing five different strips at equal distance on the wound. Hijikata worked without haste, so concentrated on his task that he held his breath.
I loved him, him and every feature, every habit. Him and his dedication. Him, and the perpetual scrunched eyebrows. Perhaps now was the best time to tell him – again - since no one was in sight. Just as I was about to open my mouth, he smoothed the last bandage and sighed.
"It will scar. The wound is too deep not to leave a mark."
I was about to tell him not to worry about it when he sighed, resuming his usual seiza position.
"Gomen nasai," he murmured, eyes averted.
I blinked in surprise. "Whatever for?", I asked, testing the solidity of the strips and finding them pretty adequate.
"For the scar."
"You were not the one who dealt it to me. And your hachigane saved me from worse."
It would have been a great moment for him to nail a resounding I told you so.
"I sent you out there," he insisted. "You almost didn't pull through. Every death is on me, Kitsu."
"You are the commander, you take on the weight of our unit upon your shoulders, and do your best with whatever intelligence you have. You've done well, Fukuchō. You heard Shinpachi, we saved many lives today."
He just nodded, shoulders down. He would never show his dejection to the others, never allow his posture to sag in front of the captains. But I understood the burden of leaders; I had been a silent companion to many of them.
"You know. When Aragorn gathered the men of the west to launch an attack against Mordor, he knew he was sending us to death if Frodo couldn't cast the ring in mount Doom. Some resented him for it. But we marched on, and I almost died. But it was still the right decision."
"What happened?", a curious Toshizō asked.
I shrugged. "Frodo melted that blasted ring and it destroyed Sauron. His army fled."
"No. I mean, what happened to you ?"
I turned around cautiously, biting my lip when the twist caused my lower ribs to protest. Just bruised, I surmised, not cracked.
"You see that slash at the back of my armour? It was an orc's blade."
Hijikata gasped, his hand following the deep gouge on the carved leather; it ran from shoulder to hip.
"How did you survive this?"
I didn't dare turning around; this period of my life, being torn from Legolas' grasp, had left mental scars. I'd talked about Stephen and Tristan, but never much of what the elf represented to me. My first true love … so I kept my gaze averted, and told him how a great blue light had engulfed me on the battlefield, taking me away from my friends to dump me into my boarding room.
"The Valar called me back home through the necklace. It reconstructed me before I could die from blood loss." Eventually, I resumed my position against the wall and gave him a wane smile. "This scar upon my cheek. Either I'll wear it proudly until I die, either it will disappear when I travel back."
His eyes widened in understanding.
"This is why your skin is so flawless. You walked into three wars and don't even have a nick."
Ah. He'd been observing more than I thought. Again, I didn't know why I was so surprised; Hijikata-san was nothing if not thorough. Perhaps I just considered myself not interesting enough to warrant his undivided attention?
He had a few scars of his own. One on his left biceps that I kept kissing because I loved the bulge of his muscle there. A thin line, probably caused by a blade. And one upon his calf, just under the knee, square as if the flesh had been crushed. Many others were tiny lines, almost indiscernible as we usually met at night. Toshizō's body seemed lived in.
But not mine; necklace travel always left me as good as new on the outside. It didn't compensate for malnourishment or blood loss, neither for post-traumatic stress disorder…
"Yep. It even took my childhood marks. That's sad; there was a little scar over my eyebrow that I remember with fondness. I fell upon a rock in kindergarten, my father took me to the doctor to ne stitched. He almost swooned."
Hijikata chuckled, and I was so glad for the expression on his face.
"I take it he isn't much of a fighter ?"
I bit my lip and snorted; my father was a scholar who abhorred violence. He'd be horrified to step in my shoes and discover the number of people I had already killed.
"Hardly. He'd probably have a heart attack if he knew…"
Humour was short-lived; the resolved frown returned to Toshizō's features as he looked me in the eye, dead serious. "Kitsu," he growled. I felt how hard he tried to control his voice, his tone nary a notch from a yell. "Charging alone in a full company of men, what were you thinking?"
Who, more than a commander, could understand the reasons that had pushed me to take that decision? "It was the only way to disarm them before they fired. We would have lost too many…"
"I'm not happy," he retorted hotly, "… but I get it. Next time, I'm guarding your back."
My eyebrows knitted, and my very core warmed up. If he approved of that strategy and backed me up himself, we might be able to take those blasted cannons. Or the Gattlings – those damn pieces of artilleries were the ones that wiped out the entire Samurai squad in the Last Samurai movie. I certainly didn't want any of my men, any of my friends at the wrong end of those primitive machine guns.
The appearance of Yamazaki supporting Kondō in the room caused us both to jump to our feet. I darted to the Captain's side, eyes roaming over his form with worry
"Are you alright?", I asked the older man.
"Damn bullet distracted me enough to get stabbed," he grunted. "I'll live, but I'm useless now."
Relieved, I gave him a smirk. "Fighting or not, the Shinsengumi's Kyokuchō can never be useless."
Kondō actually chuckled, then winced as he sat, his whole right side stiff. The man was in pain, and a bit of aspirin would not be enough. Morphine could have done the trick, but that was something I didn't have in spades. I had but a few doses … it would be folly to waste then on a 'minor' injury. Kondō actually lifted his left hand to point at my temple.
"That's a nasty gash you have here, Frances-chan."
"It will heal."
Kondō nodded grimly, and his attention turned to the others as they filed up the room with a tray of rice balls. My stomach growled – I was starving! – and we ate in relative silence. The rice I adored felt like dirt in my mouth, marred by the taste of dead men. Defeat hung heavily in the air, and I feared to ask Sanosuke and Shinpachi how many of ours died. Though, given their faces and lack of enthusiasm, they knew each and every single one of the men they had left behind to rot. I closed my eyes; the rice suddenly stuck in my throat.
"Kitsu-san…"
I found a pair of dark eyes watching me; Yamazaki seemed worried. I tried to wash the rice down with tea.
"It would be better if you slept with your head popped up."
Right, head wounds bleed a lot. But I couldn't respond to him right now, because that stupid throat was still refusing to take my food down, tea included. The pressure upon my chest increased a notch and I nodded to cover the issue.
"Sitting would be best," he concluded.
Given I'd fallen asleep on a climbing wall once, standing with only a set of toes hanging on a rock, it wouldn't be a problem. So I nodded once more; he gave me a quizzical look, but didn't push.
Phew.
Out of all of them, Yamazaki was always respectfully distant. Fear or distrust? I didn't know. Or perhaps it was because I was a foreigner. Or a woman. Choose any of the above. Eventually, Sanan and Heisuke showed up to gobble a rice ball, and my throat loosened enough to allow the food down.
Stupid anxiety!
Both the Rasetsu were geared up, ready to take on that hill and silence the cannons that pounded upon us. The decoy lights had been lit, and a bullet had already destroyed the wall behind it. The truth looked me in the eyes, and I swallowed my fear to strengthen my resolve. My blade was the only weapon that could impair those cannons easily. Where was aerial support when you need it?
Without explosives of some kind, even the Rasetsu would struggle. But if they could sneak me there, I could cleave the damn stuff in pieces in less time than it took to blink. Now … all it took was convincing Hijikata-san. He sported his usual frown and was eyeing Sanan-san warily.
"Be careful, Sanan-san."
"When am I not?" the Colonel responded with such calm that I felt like throttling him. Careful my ass; the man had drunk the Ochimizu of his own volition! Very well, then, I saw no other solution, and rose upon my knees.
"I'll come with," I announced.