Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction ❯ Life In A New Era ❯ Tonami, 1871, Part 6 ( Chapter 6 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Lady of Avalon 
Saito talks about his Shinsengumi days, but not with the person everyone thinks he should be.
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Samurai / Romance / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 03.26.2010 | Updated On: 03.26.2010 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 313 | Status: Work In Progress
Saito talks about his Shinsengumi days, but not with the person everyone thinks he should be.
Anime/Manga: Rurouni Kenshin Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Samurai / Romance / Drama / Adventure / Action | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 03.26.2010 | Updated On: 03.26.2010 | Pages: 3 | Words: 5.8K | Visits: 313 | Status: Work In Progress
It was late November. The sky was bright and clear today. It was cold out, so she’d decided on her dark red flannel kimono. It had a pattern of cherry blossoms on it, completely out of season, but that was the reason she’d picked the fabric for it. It made her think of warmer weather. She turned from the shoji. She found Satsuki and Haruna playing chess. Amane was sitting quietly reading.
She pulled the letter from Morinosuke out from her sleeve and sat a short distance from Amane. She smiled as she reread it. He’d had a safe travel, he wrote, and had settled easily back into life in Kobe. He’d moved there a few months before coming to see her from Tokyo. He mentioned a restaurant he liked that he’d hoped he could take her to sometime. She smiled, refolding the letter and tucking it away. It was a small solace in these beak days to know Morinosuke was well. Almost a whole year had passed, she mused, so little seemed changed. She glanced at the ladies, and yet she’d met him in that little bit of time and he had flipped her world upside down.
She sat for a while, thinking it was better that she’d met him. She felt more content, less restless, and more liberated somehow since she’d met him, despite the fact that he wasn’t hers. She had reconciled herself to the fact that he was married to Yaso and not her, yet just knowing he was in this world was a comfort she needed to get through the day. If he died…if he wasn’t there…she was certain her little spark of happiness left would diminish with him. Just seeing his face every couple days was enough to keep her going. He didn’t even have to address her or look at her, though she preferred it, it was enough. She was content by just being near him.
Saito came into the room. He had spent his whole day with Kurasawa. “Kurasawa-san wants everyone to help with the preparation for the Year End Fair.”
“Of course, Goro-san,” Amane replied, smiling. She went over to him and starting talking about the Year End Fair. She watched him from her current position, liking how the green kimono looked on him. His amber eyes looked particularly vivid today, his lips moving quickly as he said something to Amane, his full attention on her.
She’d felt a little sad earlier, but all that dissolved as she watched him. How strong his face, how independent and proud his stance (with good reason as a former Shinsengumi captain), how lovely a sight this man was to her. She smiled, glancing at the tatami mat. She heard his footsteps withdrawing from the room and caught one last fleeing glance of gold eyes.
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December came and the weather was hideously cold. She’d taken to wearing more than one layer of kimono when it snowed. It was the thirteenth of December. Amane and Haruna were taking care of the shimenawa and shide. Kurasawa had given Satsuki the job of collecting the kadomatsu and arranging them before the entranceway. Her job had been to prepare the toshidana with the kagamimochi, sake, persimmons, and other such food for toshigami. So she had the hardest job. She’d go into Gonohe and buy most of the things with the money Kurasawa had given her. She needed rice, sake, and to buy some persimmons.
She left early, deciding to walk. The wind was whipping her hair and her kimono sleeves as she trudged along. She walked with resolution, determined not to turn back because of the severity of the gusts blown at her. She had survived worse than a little bad weather.
She arrived in Gonohe at the beginning of the snow fall. She cursed her bad luck and found some vendors. There weren’t many of them for two reasons. Most of the Aizu were samurai who refused to farm because of their pride and the rest who’d resorted to farming found it hard work. The summers in Gonohe were known to be terrible for harvests. She stopped at the nearest vendor’s tent, ducking underneath the fabric to get away from the rain. She smiled at the tired looking middle-aged man tending the produce. He eyed her wearily, probably wondering if she was going to try and steal anything.
She checked to see how much money Kurasawa had given her. Barely enough to fill the toshidana if she wasn’t economical, but she could understand Kurasawa’s stringency with his money. Life in Tonami was of two varieties: poor and poorer. Kurasawa had been lucky at being made the advisor and councilor by the new government. He even directed the immigration of the prisoners of war. She assumed that was why he knew Saito. Saito…warm amber eyes…she shook herself, better not think about him right now.
She looked over several different persimmons, frowning. The Hyakume were cheaper, but she liked the spicy taste of the Maru. Tsurunoko would be good too. She decided on one of each and paid the man. She left that tent and went in search of someone selling rice. It wasn’t hard to track someone down selling it; it was the main staple after all. The prices were all about the same, but she brought it from the man who looked like he had the best rice. She checked her funds, not enough for any good sake. She frowned at that, Kurasawa would understand.
She stopped as she was walking pass a vendor, staring at the back of a man she’d recognize anywhere. She started laughing loudly, causing him to turn and glared at her. He looked truly evil when he glared, his look made several women and men behind her walk faster.
“Don’t you look dashing, Goro-san,” she drawled, seeing his merchant getup. He wore a long sleeved black happi with a small star crest on the back, lighter blue hakama, and a gray kimono beneath. He really looked silly which was probably because she was use to him wearing just a kimono and sometimes a haori.
“Don’t you ever mention this to anyone,” he hissed. “Move on if you aren’t going to buy anything.”
He glared harder when she made no movement to go. “I think your scaring off all your potential customers by looking so evil.” He smiled which only made him look more villain-like. “I’m sorry for laughing, Goro-san,” she bowed politely. “Can I see what you’re selling?”
He gave his characteristic humph, but showed her he was selling sake. She smiled, “Just want I need. How much?”
He looked annoyed at her, but told her. She winced at the price, crap. Stupid expensive sake. She didn’t have nearly enough. She pulled out her funds and frowned, “Do you know any cheaper sake sellers? You’re prices are ridiculous.”
“I need to make a living somehow,” he mumbled, “It’s not my fault you’re too poor to even afford good sake.”
“Goro-san.”
“I don’t know anybody,” he replied. “How much do you have?” She told him and he laughed at her, “You’re a cheapskate.”
“Kurasawa-san’s the cheap one.”
“Sure. Here,” he pulled out several folded bills of his own money and laid them on the table next to the sake. He handed her a small jar and waved her away, “Shove off now, Tokio-san.”
She smiled, “Thank you, Goro-san. It’s for the toshigami. You’re a good man,” she looked up as she said the last few words, watching his expression. His eyes stared somewhere beyond her at the street, looking almost as if he was remembering something. Really bizarre behavior for Saito. Then he was back to normal and glaring at her to get away from his stall. She thanked him a second time and left, humming as she walked away. Her mood for the rest of the month would be firmly happy she was sure.
Yaso was watching Satsuki sweep the entranceway of snow. She noticed how thin and tired Yaso looked. She had noticed over the last couple of months how Yaso eat very little, but she’d never eaten much at mealtime. She pondered this now, feeling slightly unease as she bowed to both ladies and they bowed back. She sat down beside Yaso. Yaso gave her a sideways look, “Why are you so happy?”
“Hm,” she came out of her thoughts when Yaso spoke. She couldn’t tell Yaso it was because of her husband. She blushed, “No reason.”
“I bet it has to do with a man,” Satsuki said, sweeping away the light layer of snow. “It would explain her refusal to Okura-san.”
She blushed deeper at that, Satsuki was too observant. Only she and Morinosuke knew about her feelings for Saito and that was how it would stay. She sat, glancing down at her zori sandals. Yaso poked her playfully in the side resulting in her laughter and pushed her hand away. “Is he handsome,” she asked.
She blushed, most women wouldn’t think Saito was even remotely good looking much less handsome. She found his sharp features and tall figure attractive though, it gave him a sort of musculature look which she preferred to boyish charm any day. Even though she’d never met Souji Okita, she’d heard enough tales about his cute boyish looks that she really thought he couldn’t have been that handsome, not compared to Saito. But most would disagree and have called Saito the ugly one.
He was exciting to look at, she found, the way his face could appear expressionless but his words and eyes portrayed anything but. His hair, which she adored in its long state, was probably silky smooth to the touch. She wondered if Yaso was lucky enough to be able to run her fingers though it. She shuddered with delight and than of course he looked really good in a happi coat. Then she came back to reality when Yaso waved a hand in front of her face. “You there, Tokio-san?”
“Oh let her space out about her friend,” Satsuki stressed the term friend with a wink in her direction. She blushed even more ferocious. “What’s in the basket?”
“Things for the toshidana.”
“I see.”
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Later that night as the girls all sat gathered around in Yaso’s room conversation took a turn for the worse. “I can’t believe you have to put up with such an intimidating man,” Haruna said, glaring at where his folded nemaki lay. Yaso had just laid it out for when Saito returned from Kurasawa’s room.
“It’s not so bad,” Yaso said. “He’s very mild towards me and treats me quite civilly.”
“I heard he was untidy with women,” Haruna added, “or at least that is what he was like during the Shinsengumi days.”
“It wouldn’t have surprised me if he visited Shimabara,” Satsuki added.
“Satsuki-san,” Yaso was blushing wildly at the thought. It wouldn’t have surprised her much if it was true, men liked their pleasures after all and Saito was still a man. She couldn’t begrudge him that even if she’d wanted to, she wasn’t his wife.
“Don’t be foolish,” Amane said, working on switching up a patch in one of Kurasawa’s hakama. “Saito doesn’t seem like the sort of man to be fickle with women, but you’re also giving Yaso a bad notion of her husband. I’m sure by now she knows him better than us.”
“What was his Shinsengumi days like? He never talks about it with us,” Haruna asked, looking over eager.
Yaso had turned a little pale, her eyes downcast. Something was wrong. She spoke softly when she did, “He doesn’t talk to me about those sorts of things. In fact I’ve not heard him even once mention anything about the Shinsengumi. I do wonder sometimes why he doesn’t even mention it in passing, but I just assume he’s still getting over it.” Her voice had gotten almost too soft to hear by the end of her little speech. None of them said anything for a moment, feeling uncomfortable.
“I don’t really know him any better than any of you do, it feels like we’re merely sleeping partners.” It was Amane who hugged Yaso as she started crying. “I want to make him happy, but how can I when I don’t know how?”
She watched her cry, her throat felt sickeningly tight. Poor Yaso…she didn’t deserve to be treated like she didn’t matter. She could understand Saito’s uncaring attitude to other people, but he shouldn’t be like that with his wife. “Are you sure he isn’t just hiding behind indifference?” She ventured out, half kneeling on one leg, hoping that perhaps Yaso, like so many, had just not picked up on Saito’s nonchalant kindness.
It was than that a soft knock at the frame of the shoji made all the women turn to stare. Saito entered though the shoji and Yaso turned her head away, clumsily wiping at her tears. No one moved besides Yaso. Saito frowned, glancing at one of them at a time. He waved his hand in a motion of dismissal. No one moved immediately, but than all the women flocked out like scared hens at the sight of the Wolf.
“We shouldn’t have abandoned Yaso with that demon,” Haruna was saying.
“You can always go back,” Satsuki said, shaking her head. “That man is frightful with such a look on his face.”
No one else commented. They all spilt off eventually in search of bed. Although her original destination had been her futon she found herself outside her room in the garden. The night was freezing cold and her kimono could not keep back the shivers that rocked her. She sighed, why did Saito have to be so harsh? Yaso hadn’t needed harshness; she’d needed gentlest. He should have held her, not glared like that. She sat down, frowning. The grass was covered in a thin layer of snow. She leaned her head against the shoji, staring out at the late night.
She awake with a sharp nudge to her side. She was freezing. Her head was rested against something cold. There was dampness on her kimono and head. She opened her eyes. The sandaled feet that had nudged her made a move to do so again. “I’m awake,” she sat up and found Saito standing over her. He was smiling. How beautiful his face looked when he smiled like that.
“So you are,” he muttered, amusement in his words and amber eyes. “Are you aware that it is very late and you fell asleep outside while it was snowing?”
She felt her kimono and hair, the thin layer of snow had doubled while she’d slept. The sky looked ready to burst into snow again any minute. She shuddered, damn snow, damn winter, damn it for existing at all. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Saito leaning over her wrapped his brown haori around her shoulders. She stared in surprise. What a kind thing…wait a second. Why was he even out here? Shouldn’t he be with Yaso? What was he thinking? She should smack him for his inconsiderate nature.
“Why aren’t you with your wife?”
He shrugged, “I find it unnecessary to stay inside when she’s sleeping. Tonight has made me restless.”
She wondered what he had talked about with Yaso, but knew it didn’t concern her. She was suddenly aware that his haori smelled like cigarette smoke, she wanted to bury herself in its warmth, imagining that it was his arms around her. She shook herself, now was not the time to be swooning over him. She glanced over at him and found for once he wasn’t smoking. The look in his eyes was softer than usual as he seem to be contemplating something of importance. When he felt her scrutiny, he gave her a bemused look. Her heart fluttered. That insensitive idiot. Did he realize what he did to her?
“I remember a night where it snowed so strangely like tonight. It was in 1865. A few days before Yamanami was to commit seppuku. Souji Okita and I were outside watching the snow. It had snowed just before sunset and was snowing once more. Only a very light layer. Okita and I were talking…”
“Have you ever seen such weird acting snow, Saito-san?”
“No.”
“Very blunt, Saito-san,” Okita had smiled warmly. A long moment of silence.
“You must not falter.” The look Okita had given him was one that said he knew what he was talking about.
For a second the happy go-lucky façade Okita always wore in front of others melted. His eyes stared at the snow, reflecting acute sorrow and regret. Saito, always so cool and collected, frowned looking almost sad too. “All this shall pass, Okita-san. Sorrow will dissolve in time. Yamanami-san wanted it to be this way. Do not dwell on sorrow.”
“He’s like my older brother,” and Okita, happy smiling kind Souji Okita, had cried as the snow fell around him. And Saito, cold merciless wolf that he was, had put a hand on the boy’s shoulder in comfort.
She said nothing when he’d done recounting the sad story. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would burst. She wondered how Okita and Saito had felt as she could only vaguely imagine it in her mind. She’d wished she’d met someone like Okita, she was sure she would have liked Saito’s friend.
Saito was sitting quietly, his eyes distance. She realized suddenly that she was the first person he’d told about any of his Shinsengumi days. A rush of gratitude and wonderment hit it square in the heart. To think he’d told her before Kurasawa, Ueda, and Yaso…especially Yaso. That had to mean he cared at least a little bit about her. She realized tears were caught in her eyes, but instead of pain ridden tears like last time they were happy ones.
She reached over and involuntarily took his cold hand in hers. She felt him jump and turn his head to look at her. “Thank you for telling me, Goro-san,” she said, staring at the snow rather than his face.
He was silent, but she felt his left hand cover hers. She choked back tears, smiling happily. How happy she felt, holding his hand. Neither was aware of Kurasawa watching them from the shoji Saito had left slightly ajar.
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She weaved through the fair in late December, watching the other brightly dressed women. Most of men wore varying shades of brown, green, and blue even dispute the festival. She knew it was likely because they had nothing festive to wear being so poor. She looked at Yaso. She was wearing a lovely light blue flower patterned kimono with yellow obi. Her hair had a bira bira in it that twinkled as she walked. Amane was wearing a light purple kimono with colorful orange obi. Satsuki and Haruna had both oddly decided on green kimonos with Satsuki wearing a darker shade and Haruna wearing a light shade. She had decided to wear yellow with a pink ribbon holding her hair back and pink obi. She was stunning like Yaso was in her kimono, but she was sure she looked cute.
Kurasawa had decided on a light brown kimono with green obi. Ueda was wearing a blue kimono with a brown obi and haori. Saito had decided to be drab and wear a black kimono with black haori. He looked like a walking skeleton. An utterly ridiculous choice for a festival, everyone would think he’d come from a funeral.
They walked the streets, she’d expected them to be crowded, but it didn’t appear that bad. Such festivals were much larger in Tokyo. Most people looked weary and lean faced and some looked half dead where they stood. The thought that so many of these people had been Aizu samurai made her feel upset that this had happened to so great of men and women.
The flannel kimono kept her warm against the chill of the day. She glanced at Saito. He was looking at some vendors tinkles with Yaso. She glanced at her feet, trying not to remember the feel of his hand on hers or his haori around her shoulders. She shouldn’t, not on such a day.
Haruna was talking excitedly, “Perhaps we’ll run into Ichiro-chan.”
“Who?” Amane looked skeptically at Haruna’s blushing face.
“You haven’t heard of Ichiro-chan? He’s the most handsome man in Gonohe.”
“He’s also yakuza,” added Satsuki, looking a little nervous. Yakuza? Why was Haruna even talking about someone related to criminal activities?
“Criminals shouldn’t be given any consideration,” she said with disdain. “They make their living from dishonorable means. Forget about this Ichiro criminal.” She didn’t even bother calling him -san, such people were not worth that title.
Haruna and Satsuki started to argue about this man’s involvement in illegal pursuits while Amane shook her head. Kurasawa was oblivious to them, talking in a soft tone to Ueda about the fair. Ueda, his arms crossed characteristically, mumbled something about stupid women. Saito agreed, smiling when Yaso gave him an annoyed look and slapped Ueda on the back of the head. How wonderful, being here with these people. She was happy, truly happy and Saito was here too which only made it better. So nice.
She didn’t see the man watching her from across the fairgrounds or the way his brow creased with confusion at her as he watched her stroll past. Only Saito saw the man’s look, but dismissed it as a man merely gazing at a pretty woman.
“Where the hell are they?”
Kurasawa had dragged the men off somewhere and Yaso had gone with Haruna to get some treats for the ladies. Amane and Satsuki were getting edgy because Yaso and Haruna hadn’t returned yet.
“Let’s go find them, Amane-san,” Satsuki whined, “I’m sure they just got lost.”
“Gonohe isn’t that big, they probably just stopped to talk with someone. Yaso told us to wait here so we’re waiting.”
“Please…Amane,” she stressed out the e as she wailed, “Amane-san. Tokio-san,” Satsuki clung to her kimono, “come with me to find Yaso-san and Har-san?” When she didn’t answer Satsuki pouted and went back to more easily corrupted woman. Satsuki was like a child in that a) she pouted and threw a tantrum to get her, b) she sulked and plead when that didn’t work, and c) attacked the one more likely to cave in. “Amane-san, please?”
“No,” Amane was starting to falter, though whether it was Satsuki’s nagging or her hunger Tokio couldn’t tell.
“How about I stay here incase they come back and you two go try and find them?”
“Thank you, Tokio-san, come on Amane-san, she said it was fine,” she started to drag her away. She watched them walk off in bemusement, they really were like little children sometimes, especially during fairs. She found festivals were a nice break from the stressing life of poverty. Lately Kurasawa was struggling even more to support everyone, despite Saito’s added income. She still wondered how Saito made any profit, his sake was too expensive, but she supposed a lot of men wanted drink to wash away their sad lives.
A familiar person sat down beside her. She hadn’t had any real conversations with him for a while; they’d always been in social situations with everyone hanging on their every word. “Tokio-san,” he supplied, yanking his cigarettes from his kimono sleeve.
“Can’t you refrain from smoking for tonight?”
“Hm.” She thought for a second he was taking her seriously, but she wasn’t looking at his face, unaware of the wolfish smile brewing there. “No,” he struck a match and took a puff.
She watched the fairgoers, families of shabbily dressed children and weary parents. Elders walked slower, remembering the Year End Fairs of long ago when clan had been more than just a name and swords swung from samurai hips. There were only a few carrying swords, but they were given wide breath when passed compared to the average citizen. Saito had worn his daisho despite the happy event and she wouldn’t have been surprised to find he slept when the swords against him rather than Yaso. She snorted at the mental imagine, barely hiding laugher, which received a cautious look from Saito.
“I wanted to talk to you about that night,” she knew exactly which night he was referring to. She lowered her gaze, feeling reluctant. She didn’t want to talk about that night, too much heartache.
“If we must…”
“We must.” He took a drag and blew out gray clouds, rolling the burning cigarette between lean fingers. She wondered how he didn’t burn himself, but reminded herself he was skilled in more than just swordsmanship.
“Ask.”
“I have a feeling…no… I’ve observed your actions…and they confuse me.” He wasn’t looking at her, but at a colorful lantern a little child was swinging around rather recklessly. She watched the pretty red lantern get flung back and forth.
“What confuses you, Goro-san?”
“Not much. I asked you what was bothering you before, remember?” She nodded her head, still watching the lantern. It was safer to observe that than his face. “You said you were angry and than you were on the verge of tears,” he inhaled smoke, blowing it out slowly. “You called me an idiot…”
“Sorry, but you deserved it.”
“I don’t see how I deserved it.”
“You know I wouldn’t regret saying no to Okura-sama, yet you still thought that was the reason.”
“People are fickle and change their feelings from day to day. It was a logical conclusion. I thought you’d refused Okura-san because of your initial dislike of the change it would cause in your life, not out of love. I took love into consideration when I named your friends and Okura-san, but I’d neglected a vital part. I was not aware that there was a lover,” she stared in surprise at him, “that kept you chained here. There aren’t any excuses for my wrong assumption.”
“You assumed wrong again,” his cigarette bobbed in his hand, the confusion only evident in his eyes.
“There is no lover?”
“No.”
“Then…”
“I won’t marry Okura-sama because I’d have to leave Tonami and because I know I’ll never love him. Not because I have a lover.” Saito put the cigarette to his lips, looking as if he was understanding everything now. “Where did you possibly get the idea that I had a lover from?”
“Satsuki-san and my wife.” She winced, what had those two been thinking! She wanted to go ring their necks for this, now Saito thought her a loose sort of woman. She blushed, pressing a hand to her face in horror. “My original assumptions I said before Kurasawa was my thoughts on the matter before I’d heard about a lover. They made sense, but I figured a lover would have been the deciding fact to refuse. My apologies, Tokio-san, I did not mean to label you as an unchaste lady.”
“I understand. I just can’t comprehend on how you think I would…partake in such activities outside marriage.”
He shrugged, “Even the most virtuous of people I’ve met have. It wouldn’t have surprised me over much, love and lust have a way of surpassing such social norms.”
She glanced over at where the child with the red lantern had been, but he’d long passed by with his parents. A little girl was chasing what appeared to be her younger brother around their parents’ feet. Saito snubbed out his cigarette on the ground. She watched him silently, a question nagging at her. She shouldn’t ask, it was too personal, too private. He didn’t like personal questions usually, it would only annoy him.
She asked anyway, “Are you happy…?” married to Yaso…
He cracked his neck and looked at her, his amber eyes smothering. She turned away, too afraid to meet the look in those eyes. “I was rarely happy during the late Bakumatsu period and only occasionally during my youth and beginning in the Shinsengumi. My youth had been a turbulent time. My father Yusuke Yamaguchi-chan had died when I rather young. My mother was a good woman from what I recall and died when I was eighteen. I have…I’m not sure if my siblings are still alive, but I had an older brother Hiroaki-chan and older sister Katsu-chan. I killed a Hatamoto when I was nineteen and fled Edo. I joined the Shinsengumi two years later, known then as the Mibu Roshi, in 1863. I wasn’t immediately a squadron captain, which happened later. I was relatively happy than I suppose, some days more than others.”
“Okita,” he chuckled, “always made me laugh a good one.” He’d called him just Okita…no -san. He’d never done that to anyone and she remembered he called him just Okita when he’d mentioned Yamanami’s death. “They say Okita died alone. I’d wished I’d been there, that fool probably would have liked to know the Shinsengumi didn’t stop without him around and that evil was still getting its just deserts.”
He was frowning now, “Toba Fushimi, Koshu-Katsunuma, Ueno, Utsunomiya Castle, Battle of Aizu. There were raids and skirmishes, but those are the battles engraved most in my memory. The blood on my blade is not innocent blood. I killed for Aku Soku Zan and will until I die. I regret nothing. I’ll forget nothing. I’ll never falter to kill those who are evil. Aku. Soku. Zan.” He said each word like perfectly executed sword chops. “All the members of the Shinsengumi understood that and those who did not either died or were assassinated. My alliance, my loyalty was not to the Shinsengumi, it was to killing evil swiftly. The Shinsengumi was merely the means to an end. Am I happy? Was I happy,” he laughed, “I’ll always be content by following Aku Soku Zan. The times change, people change, and sides change, but that is forever.”
“Even though those people you kill are evil does it really make you any better than them when you take their lives?”
Saito stood, shaking out his hakama and straightening his kimono. “What else should be done with criminals? There is nothing more fitting for villains than to get that which they inflict.”
“It still tarnishes the soul to kill. Even yours,” did she dare to venture? “Hajime-san.” The taste of his name, the name that had never changed, falling off her tongue was like the best permission she’d ever tasted.
He said nothing, his body turned to her. The village was dark, only the dim candle light from houses or the occasional lantern someone held cast much light. The sun was setting, heralding the arrival of the moon. Pinks, oranges and a faint blue up high in the heavens gave a background to Saito’s straight tall figure. He turned and his amber eyes were slightly wider than usual, but they narrowed the next instance. Before she fully comprehended what was going on he was bowing to her. He bowed deeply and of a duration longer than three seconds. She just stared, too speechless to bow back as she should have.
“Sada-san,” she’d mentioned her real name to him in one of their conversations. She’d taken up the name Tokio because Teru had dubbed her such back during the Shogunate. She had liked it better than her name and had merely let everyone call her Tokio. “So many times you said, ‘“Thank you, Goro-san.”’ I’ve not once said it back. You’ve done much I should have thanked you for and unintentionally you’ve done more than you will ever fully understand. Thank you for everything, especially for being you. Ai shiteru, Sada-san…Tokio-san.” He said it with his characteristic indifference on his face, but his voice and the look in his amber eyes said he meant it.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. She just gaped at him as he straightened. She couldn’t bring any words out, he turned and walked into the small crowd, but she saw where he was amongst them because of his height.
She just sat in the darkness, smiling to herself as the sun set. Hajime… Saito…Goro…All his names didn’t matter because he was hers no matter which name he took and he’d proven that tonight. He loved her and she loved him. That was all that mattered.
She pulled the letter from Morinosuke out from her sleeve and sat a short distance from Amane. She smiled as she reread it. He’d had a safe travel, he wrote, and had settled easily back into life in Kobe. He’d moved there a few months before coming to see her from Tokyo. He mentioned a restaurant he liked that he’d hoped he could take her to sometime. She smiled, refolding the letter and tucking it away. It was a small solace in these beak days to know Morinosuke was well. Almost a whole year had passed, she mused, so little seemed changed. She glanced at the ladies, and yet she’d met him in that little bit of time and he had flipped her world upside down.
She sat for a while, thinking it was better that she’d met him. She felt more content, less restless, and more liberated somehow since she’d met him, despite the fact that he wasn’t hers. She had reconciled herself to the fact that he was married to Yaso and not her, yet just knowing he was in this world was a comfort she needed to get through the day. If he died…if he wasn’t there…she was certain her little spark of happiness left would diminish with him. Just seeing his face every couple days was enough to keep her going. He didn’t even have to address her or look at her, though she preferred it, it was enough. She was content by just being near him.
Saito came into the room. He had spent his whole day with Kurasawa. “Kurasawa-san wants everyone to help with the preparation for the Year End Fair.”
“Of course, Goro-san,” Amane replied, smiling. She went over to him and starting talking about the Year End Fair. She watched him from her current position, liking how the green kimono looked on him. His amber eyes looked particularly vivid today, his lips moving quickly as he said something to Amane, his full attention on her.
She’d felt a little sad earlier, but all that dissolved as she watched him. How strong his face, how independent and proud his stance (with good reason as a former Shinsengumi captain), how lovely a sight this man was to her. She smiled, glancing at the tatami mat. She heard his footsteps withdrawing from the room and caught one last fleeing glance of gold eyes.
-----------
December came and the weather was hideously cold. She’d taken to wearing more than one layer of kimono when it snowed. It was the thirteenth of December. Amane and Haruna were taking care of the shimenawa and shide. Kurasawa had given Satsuki the job of collecting the kadomatsu and arranging them before the entranceway. Her job had been to prepare the toshidana with the kagamimochi, sake, persimmons, and other such food for toshigami. So she had the hardest job. She’d go into Gonohe and buy most of the things with the money Kurasawa had given her. She needed rice, sake, and to buy some persimmons.
She left early, deciding to walk. The wind was whipping her hair and her kimono sleeves as she trudged along. She walked with resolution, determined not to turn back because of the severity of the gusts blown at her. She had survived worse than a little bad weather.
She arrived in Gonohe at the beginning of the snow fall. She cursed her bad luck and found some vendors. There weren’t many of them for two reasons. Most of the Aizu were samurai who refused to farm because of their pride and the rest who’d resorted to farming found it hard work. The summers in Gonohe were known to be terrible for harvests. She stopped at the nearest vendor’s tent, ducking underneath the fabric to get away from the rain. She smiled at the tired looking middle-aged man tending the produce. He eyed her wearily, probably wondering if she was going to try and steal anything.
She checked to see how much money Kurasawa had given her. Barely enough to fill the toshidana if she wasn’t economical, but she could understand Kurasawa’s stringency with his money. Life in Tonami was of two varieties: poor and poorer. Kurasawa had been lucky at being made the advisor and councilor by the new government. He even directed the immigration of the prisoners of war. She assumed that was why he knew Saito. Saito…warm amber eyes…she shook herself, better not think about him right now.
She looked over several different persimmons, frowning. The Hyakume were cheaper, but she liked the spicy taste of the Maru. Tsurunoko would be good too. She decided on one of each and paid the man. She left that tent and went in search of someone selling rice. It wasn’t hard to track someone down selling it; it was the main staple after all. The prices were all about the same, but she brought it from the man who looked like he had the best rice. She checked her funds, not enough for any good sake. She frowned at that, Kurasawa would understand.
She stopped as she was walking pass a vendor, staring at the back of a man she’d recognize anywhere. She started laughing loudly, causing him to turn and glared at her. He looked truly evil when he glared, his look made several women and men behind her walk faster.
“Don’t you look dashing, Goro-san,” she drawled, seeing his merchant getup. He wore a long sleeved black happi with a small star crest on the back, lighter blue hakama, and a gray kimono beneath. He really looked silly which was probably because she was use to him wearing just a kimono and sometimes a haori.
“Don’t you ever mention this to anyone,” he hissed. “Move on if you aren’t going to buy anything.”
He glared harder when she made no movement to go. “I think your scaring off all your potential customers by looking so evil.” He smiled which only made him look more villain-like. “I’m sorry for laughing, Goro-san,” she bowed politely. “Can I see what you’re selling?”
He gave his characteristic humph, but showed her he was selling sake. She smiled, “Just want I need. How much?”
He looked annoyed at her, but told her. She winced at the price, crap. Stupid expensive sake. She didn’t have nearly enough. She pulled out her funds and frowned, “Do you know any cheaper sake sellers? You’re prices are ridiculous.”
“I need to make a living somehow,” he mumbled, “It’s not my fault you’re too poor to even afford good sake.”
“Goro-san.”
“I don’t know anybody,” he replied. “How much do you have?” She told him and he laughed at her, “You’re a cheapskate.”
“Kurasawa-san’s the cheap one.”
“Sure. Here,” he pulled out several folded bills of his own money and laid them on the table next to the sake. He handed her a small jar and waved her away, “Shove off now, Tokio-san.”
She smiled, “Thank you, Goro-san. It’s for the toshigami. You’re a good man,” she looked up as she said the last few words, watching his expression. His eyes stared somewhere beyond her at the street, looking almost as if he was remembering something. Really bizarre behavior for Saito. Then he was back to normal and glaring at her to get away from his stall. She thanked him a second time and left, humming as she walked away. Her mood for the rest of the month would be firmly happy she was sure.
Yaso was watching Satsuki sweep the entranceway of snow. She noticed how thin and tired Yaso looked. She had noticed over the last couple of months how Yaso eat very little, but she’d never eaten much at mealtime. She pondered this now, feeling slightly unease as she bowed to both ladies and they bowed back. She sat down beside Yaso. Yaso gave her a sideways look, “Why are you so happy?”
“Hm,” she came out of her thoughts when Yaso spoke. She couldn’t tell Yaso it was because of her husband. She blushed, “No reason.”
“I bet it has to do with a man,” Satsuki said, sweeping away the light layer of snow. “It would explain her refusal to Okura-san.”
She blushed deeper at that, Satsuki was too observant. Only she and Morinosuke knew about her feelings for Saito and that was how it would stay. She sat, glancing down at her zori sandals. Yaso poked her playfully in the side resulting in her laughter and pushed her hand away. “Is he handsome,” she asked.
She blushed, most women wouldn’t think Saito was even remotely good looking much less handsome. She found his sharp features and tall figure attractive though, it gave him a sort of musculature look which she preferred to boyish charm any day. Even though she’d never met Souji Okita, she’d heard enough tales about his cute boyish looks that she really thought he couldn’t have been that handsome, not compared to Saito. But most would disagree and have called Saito the ugly one.
He was exciting to look at, she found, the way his face could appear expressionless but his words and eyes portrayed anything but. His hair, which she adored in its long state, was probably silky smooth to the touch. She wondered if Yaso was lucky enough to be able to run her fingers though it. She shuddered with delight and than of course he looked really good in a happi coat. Then she came back to reality when Yaso waved a hand in front of her face. “You there, Tokio-san?”
“Oh let her space out about her friend,” Satsuki stressed the term friend with a wink in her direction. She blushed even more ferocious. “What’s in the basket?”
“Things for the toshidana.”
“I see.”
--------
Later that night as the girls all sat gathered around in Yaso’s room conversation took a turn for the worse. “I can’t believe you have to put up with such an intimidating man,” Haruna said, glaring at where his folded nemaki lay. Yaso had just laid it out for when Saito returned from Kurasawa’s room.
“It’s not so bad,” Yaso said. “He’s very mild towards me and treats me quite civilly.”
“I heard he was untidy with women,” Haruna added, “or at least that is what he was like during the Shinsengumi days.”
“It wouldn’t have surprised me if he visited Shimabara,” Satsuki added.
“Satsuki-san,” Yaso was blushing wildly at the thought. It wouldn’t have surprised her much if it was true, men liked their pleasures after all and Saito was still a man. She couldn’t begrudge him that even if she’d wanted to, she wasn’t his wife.
“Don’t be foolish,” Amane said, working on switching up a patch in one of Kurasawa’s hakama. “Saito doesn’t seem like the sort of man to be fickle with women, but you’re also giving Yaso a bad notion of her husband. I’m sure by now she knows him better than us.”
“What was his Shinsengumi days like? He never talks about it with us,” Haruna asked, looking over eager.
Yaso had turned a little pale, her eyes downcast. Something was wrong. She spoke softly when she did, “He doesn’t talk to me about those sorts of things. In fact I’ve not heard him even once mention anything about the Shinsengumi. I do wonder sometimes why he doesn’t even mention it in passing, but I just assume he’s still getting over it.” Her voice had gotten almost too soft to hear by the end of her little speech. None of them said anything for a moment, feeling uncomfortable.
“I don’t really know him any better than any of you do, it feels like we’re merely sleeping partners.” It was Amane who hugged Yaso as she started crying. “I want to make him happy, but how can I when I don’t know how?”
She watched her cry, her throat felt sickeningly tight. Poor Yaso…she didn’t deserve to be treated like she didn’t matter. She could understand Saito’s uncaring attitude to other people, but he shouldn’t be like that with his wife. “Are you sure he isn’t just hiding behind indifference?” She ventured out, half kneeling on one leg, hoping that perhaps Yaso, like so many, had just not picked up on Saito’s nonchalant kindness.
It was than that a soft knock at the frame of the shoji made all the women turn to stare. Saito entered though the shoji and Yaso turned her head away, clumsily wiping at her tears. No one moved besides Yaso. Saito frowned, glancing at one of them at a time. He waved his hand in a motion of dismissal. No one moved immediately, but than all the women flocked out like scared hens at the sight of the Wolf.
“We shouldn’t have abandoned Yaso with that demon,” Haruna was saying.
“You can always go back,” Satsuki said, shaking her head. “That man is frightful with such a look on his face.”
No one else commented. They all spilt off eventually in search of bed. Although her original destination had been her futon she found herself outside her room in the garden. The night was freezing cold and her kimono could not keep back the shivers that rocked her. She sighed, why did Saito have to be so harsh? Yaso hadn’t needed harshness; she’d needed gentlest. He should have held her, not glared like that. She sat down, frowning. The grass was covered in a thin layer of snow. She leaned her head against the shoji, staring out at the late night.
She awake with a sharp nudge to her side. She was freezing. Her head was rested against something cold. There was dampness on her kimono and head. She opened her eyes. The sandaled feet that had nudged her made a move to do so again. “I’m awake,” she sat up and found Saito standing over her. He was smiling. How beautiful his face looked when he smiled like that.
“So you are,” he muttered, amusement in his words and amber eyes. “Are you aware that it is very late and you fell asleep outside while it was snowing?”
She felt her kimono and hair, the thin layer of snow had doubled while she’d slept. The sky looked ready to burst into snow again any minute. She shuddered, damn snow, damn winter, damn it for existing at all. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Saito leaning over her wrapped his brown haori around her shoulders. She stared in surprise. What a kind thing…wait a second. Why was he even out here? Shouldn’t he be with Yaso? What was he thinking? She should smack him for his inconsiderate nature.
“Why aren’t you with your wife?”
He shrugged, “I find it unnecessary to stay inside when she’s sleeping. Tonight has made me restless.”
She wondered what he had talked about with Yaso, but knew it didn’t concern her. She was suddenly aware that his haori smelled like cigarette smoke, she wanted to bury herself in its warmth, imagining that it was his arms around her. She shook herself, now was not the time to be swooning over him. She glanced over at him and found for once he wasn’t smoking. The look in his eyes was softer than usual as he seem to be contemplating something of importance. When he felt her scrutiny, he gave her a bemused look. Her heart fluttered. That insensitive idiot. Did he realize what he did to her?
“I remember a night where it snowed so strangely like tonight. It was in 1865. A few days before Yamanami was to commit seppuku. Souji Okita and I were outside watching the snow. It had snowed just before sunset and was snowing once more. Only a very light layer. Okita and I were talking…”
“Have you ever seen such weird acting snow, Saito-san?”
“No.”
“Very blunt, Saito-san,” Okita had smiled warmly. A long moment of silence.
“You must not falter.” The look Okita had given him was one that said he knew what he was talking about.
For a second the happy go-lucky façade Okita always wore in front of others melted. His eyes stared at the snow, reflecting acute sorrow and regret. Saito, always so cool and collected, frowned looking almost sad too. “All this shall pass, Okita-san. Sorrow will dissolve in time. Yamanami-san wanted it to be this way. Do not dwell on sorrow.”
“He’s like my older brother,” and Okita, happy smiling kind Souji Okita, had cried as the snow fell around him. And Saito, cold merciless wolf that he was, had put a hand on the boy’s shoulder in comfort.
She said nothing when he’d done recounting the sad story. Her heart was pounding so fast she thought it would burst. She wondered how Okita and Saito had felt as she could only vaguely imagine it in her mind. She’d wished she’d met someone like Okita, she was sure she would have liked Saito’s friend.
Saito was sitting quietly, his eyes distance. She realized suddenly that she was the first person he’d told about any of his Shinsengumi days. A rush of gratitude and wonderment hit it square in the heart. To think he’d told her before Kurasawa, Ueda, and Yaso…especially Yaso. That had to mean he cared at least a little bit about her. She realized tears were caught in her eyes, but instead of pain ridden tears like last time they were happy ones.
She reached over and involuntarily took his cold hand in hers. She felt him jump and turn his head to look at her. “Thank you for telling me, Goro-san,” she said, staring at the snow rather than his face.
He was silent, but she felt his left hand cover hers. She choked back tears, smiling happily. How happy she felt, holding his hand. Neither was aware of Kurasawa watching them from the shoji Saito had left slightly ajar.
--------
She weaved through the fair in late December, watching the other brightly dressed women. Most of men wore varying shades of brown, green, and blue even dispute the festival. She knew it was likely because they had nothing festive to wear being so poor. She looked at Yaso. She was wearing a lovely light blue flower patterned kimono with yellow obi. Her hair had a bira bira in it that twinkled as she walked. Amane was wearing a light purple kimono with colorful orange obi. Satsuki and Haruna had both oddly decided on green kimonos with Satsuki wearing a darker shade and Haruna wearing a light shade. She had decided to wear yellow with a pink ribbon holding her hair back and pink obi. She was stunning like Yaso was in her kimono, but she was sure she looked cute.
Kurasawa had decided on a light brown kimono with green obi. Ueda was wearing a blue kimono with a brown obi and haori. Saito had decided to be drab and wear a black kimono with black haori. He looked like a walking skeleton. An utterly ridiculous choice for a festival, everyone would think he’d come from a funeral.
They walked the streets, she’d expected them to be crowded, but it didn’t appear that bad. Such festivals were much larger in Tokyo. Most people looked weary and lean faced and some looked half dead where they stood. The thought that so many of these people had been Aizu samurai made her feel upset that this had happened to so great of men and women.
The flannel kimono kept her warm against the chill of the day. She glanced at Saito. He was looking at some vendors tinkles with Yaso. She glanced at her feet, trying not to remember the feel of his hand on hers or his haori around her shoulders. She shouldn’t, not on such a day.
Haruna was talking excitedly, “Perhaps we’ll run into Ichiro-chan.”
“Who?” Amane looked skeptically at Haruna’s blushing face.
“You haven’t heard of Ichiro-chan? He’s the most handsome man in Gonohe.”
“He’s also yakuza,” added Satsuki, looking a little nervous. Yakuza? Why was Haruna even talking about someone related to criminal activities?
“Criminals shouldn’t be given any consideration,” she said with disdain. “They make their living from dishonorable means. Forget about this Ichiro criminal.” She didn’t even bother calling him -san, such people were not worth that title.
Haruna and Satsuki started to argue about this man’s involvement in illegal pursuits while Amane shook her head. Kurasawa was oblivious to them, talking in a soft tone to Ueda about the fair. Ueda, his arms crossed characteristically, mumbled something about stupid women. Saito agreed, smiling when Yaso gave him an annoyed look and slapped Ueda on the back of the head. How wonderful, being here with these people. She was happy, truly happy and Saito was here too which only made it better. So nice.
She didn’t see the man watching her from across the fairgrounds or the way his brow creased with confusion at her as he watched her stroll past. Only Saito saw the man’s look, but dismissed it as a man merely gazing at a pretty woman.
“Where the hell are they?”
Kurasawa had dragged the men off somewhere and Yaso had gone with Haruna to get some treats for the ladies. Amane and Satsuki were getting edgy because Yaso and Haruna hadn’t returned yet.
“Let’s go find them, Amane-san,” Satsuki whined, “I’m sure they just got lost.”
“Gonohe isn’t that big, they probably just stopped to talk with someone. Yaso told us to wait here so we’re waiting.”
“Please…Amane,” she stressed out the e as she wailed, “Amane-san. Tokio-san,” Satsuki clung to her kimono, “come with me to find Yaso-san and Har-san?” When she didn’t answer Satsuki pouted and went back to more easily corrupted woman. Satsuki was like a child in that a) she pouted and threw a tantrum to get her, b) she sulked and plead when that didn’t work, and c) attacked the one more likely to cave in. “Amane-san, please?”
“No,” Amane was starting to falter, though whether it was Satsuki’s nagging or her hunger Tokio couldn’t tell.
“How about I stay here incase they come back and you two go try and find them?”
“Thank you, Tokio-san, come on Amane-san, she said it was fine,” she started to drag her away. She watched them walk off in bemusement, they really were like little children sometimes, especially during fairs. She found festivals were a nice break from the stressing life of poverty. Lately Kurasawa was struggling even more to support everyone, despite Saito’s added income. She still wondered how Saito made any profit, his sake was too expensive, but she supposed a lot of men wanted drink to wash away their sad lives.
A familiar person sat down beside her. She hadn’t had any real conversations with him for a while; they’d always been in social situations with everyone hanging on their every word. “Tokio-san,” he supplied, yanking his cigarettes from his kimono sleeve.
“Can’t you refrain from smoking for tonight?”
“Hm.” She thought for a second he was taking her seriously, but she wasn’t looking at his face, unaware of the wolfish smile brewing there. “No,” he struck a match and took a puff.
She watched the fairgoers, families of shabbily dressed children and weary parents. Elders walked slower, remembering the Year End Fairs of long ago when clan had been more than just a name and swords swung from samurai hips. There were only a few carrying swords, but they were given wide breath when passed compared to the average citizen. Saito had worn his daisho despite the happy event and she wouldn’t have been surprised to find he slept when the swords against him rather than Yaso. She snorted at the mental imagine, barely hiding laugher, which received a cautious look from Saito.
“I wanted to talk to you about that night,” she knew exactly which night he was referring to. She lowered her gaze, feeling reluctant. She didn’t want to talk about that night, too much heartache.
“If we must…”
“We must.” He took a drag and blew out gray clouds, rolling the burning cigarette between lean fingers. She wondered how he didn’t burn himself, but reminded herself he was skilled in more than just swordsmanship.
“Ask.”
“I have a feeling…no… I’ve observed your actions…and they confuse me.” He wasn’t looking at her, but at a colorful lantern a little child was swinging around rather recklessly. She watched the pretty red lantern get flung back and forth.
“What confuses you, Goro-san?”
“Not much. I asked you what was bothering you before, remember?” She nodded her head, still watching the lantern. It was safer to observe that than his face. “You said you were angry and than you were on the verge of tears,” he inhaled smoke, blowing it out slowly. “You called me an idiot…”
“Sorry, but you deserved it.”
“I don’t see how I deserved it.”
“You know I wouldn’t regret saying no to Okura-sama, yet you still thought that was the reason.”
“People are fickle and change their feelings from day to day. It was a logical conclusion. I thought you’d refused Okura-san because of your initial dislike of the change it would cause in your life, not out of love. I took love into consideration when I named your friends and Okura-san, but I’d neglected a vital part. I was not aware that there was a lover,” she stared in surprise at him, “that kept you chained here. There aren’t any excuses for my wrong assumption.”
“You assumed wrong again,” his cigarette bobbed in his hand, the confusion only evident in his eyes.
“There is no lover?”
“No.”
“Then…”
“I won’t marry Okura-sama because I’d have to leave Tonami and because I know I’ll never love him. Not because I have a lover.” Saito put the cigarette to his lips, looking as if he was understanding everything now. “Where did you possibly get the idea that I had a lover from?”
“Satsuki-san and my wife.” She winced, what had those two been thinking! She wanted to go ring their necks for this, now Saito thought her a loose sort of woman. She blushed, pressing a hand to her face in horror. “My original assumptions I said before Kurasawa was my thoughts on the matter before I’d heard about a lover. They made sense, but I figured a lover would have been the deciding fact to refuse. My apologies, Tokio-san, I did not mean to label you as an unchaste lady.”
“I understand. I just can’t comprehend on how you think I would…partake in such activities outside marriage.”
He shrugged, “Even the most virtuous of people I’ve met have. It wouldn’t have surprised me over much, love and lust have a way of surpassing such social norms.”
She glanced over at where the child with the red lantern had been, but he’d long passed by with his parents. A little girl was chasing what appeared to be her younger brother around their parents’ feet. Saito snubbed out his cigarette on the ground. She watched him silently, a question nagging at her. She shouldn’t ask, it was too personal, too private. He didn’t like personal questions usually, it would only annoy him.
She asked anyway, “Are you happy…?” married to Yaso…
He cracked his neck and looked at her, his amber eyes smothering. She turned away, too afraid to meet the look in those eyes. “I was rarely happy during the late Bakumatsu period and only occasionally during my youth and beginning in the Shinsengumi. My youth had been a turbulent time. My father Yusuke Yamaguchi-chan had died when I rather young. My mother was a good woman from what I recall and died when I was eighteen. I have…I’m not sure if my siblings are still alive, but I had an older brother Hiroaki-chan and older sister Katsu-chan. I killed a Hatamoto when I was nineteen and fled Edo. I joined the Shinsengumi two years later, known then as the Mibu Roshi, in 1863. I wasn’t immediately a squadron captain, which happened later. I was relatively happy than I suppose, some days more than others.”
“Okita,” he chuckled, “always made me laugh a good one.” He’d called him just Okita…no -san. He’d never done that to anyone and she remembered he called him just Okita when he’d mentioned Yamanami’s death. “They say Okita died alone. I’d wished I’d been there, that fool probably would have liked to know the Shinsengumi didn’t stop without him around and that evil was still getting its just deserts.”
He was frowning now, “Toba Fushimi, Koshu-Katsunuma, Ueno, Utsunomiya Castle, Battle of Aizu. There were raids and skirmishes, but those are the battles engraved most in my memory. The blood on my blade is not innocent blood. I killed for Aku Soku Zan and will until I die. I regret nothing. I’ll forget nothing. I’ll never falter to kill those who are evil. Aku. Soku. Zan.” He said each word like perfectly executed sword chops. “All the members of the Shinsengumi understood that and those who did not either died or were assassinated. My alliance, my loyalty was not to the Shinsengumi, it was to killing evil swiftly. The Shinsengumi was merely the means to an end. Am I happy? Was I happy,” he laughed, “I’ll always be content by following Aku Soku Zan. The times change, people change, and sides change, but that is forever.”
“Even though those people you kill are evil does it really make you any better than them when you take their lives?”
Saito stood, shaking out his hakama and straightening his kimono. “What else should be done with criminals? There is nothing more fitting for villains than to get that which they inflict.”
“It still tarnishes the soul to kill. Even yours,” did she dare to venture? “Hajime-san.” The taste of his name, the name that had never changed, falling off her tongue was like the best permission she’d ever tasted.
He said nothing, his body turned to her. The village was dark, only the dim candle light from houses or the occasional lantern someone held cast much light. The sun was setting, heralding the arrival of the moon. Pinks, oranges and a faint blue up high in the heavens gave a background to Saito’s straight tall figure. He turned and his amber eyes were slightly wider than usual, but they narrowed the next instance. Before she fully comprehended what was going on he was bowing to her. He bowed deeply and of a duration longer than three seconds. She just stared, too speechless to bow back as she should have.
“Sada-san,” she’d mentioned her real name to him in one of their conversations. She’d taken up the name Tokio because Teru had dubbed her such back during the Shogunate. She had liked it better than her name and had merely let everyone call her Tokio. “So many times you said, ‘“Thank you, Goro-san.”’ I’ve not once said it back. You’ve done much I should have thanked you for and unintentionally you’ve done more than you will ever fully understand. Thank you for everything, especially for being you. Ai shiteru, Sada-san…Tokio-san.” He said it with his characteristic indifference on his face, but his voice and the look in his amber eyes said he meant it.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted. She just gaped at him as he straightened. She couldn’t bring any words out, he turned and walked into the small crowd, but she saw where he was amongst them because of his height.
She just sat in the darkness, smiling to herself as the sun set. Hajime… Saito…Goro…All his names didn’t matter because he was hers no matter which name he took and he’d proven that tonight. He loved her and she loved him. That was all that mattered.