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The Courtship of Lady Tokio

by Misaki Toyodome

Chapter 15 - In Pursuit of Lost Time

August 1864 –

'Tokio...'

Saitou remembered the last time he had met her. The night before Kinmon no Hen – how strange it seemed for him to be compelled to meet her, and under such conditions. And yet, how natural. Nothing forced, nothing imposed, nothing constrained. There had been her letters. He had not been drawn to her because she sent him letters. He had been drawn to her because of the self she had shown him in them, she had put so much of herself into those letters. And now, here he was, in her room, looking at a sheaf of parchment he had found in her correspondence box. One more letter, once more the'last time'.

28th July 1864 -

Dear Saitou-sama,

Please do not reproach me for writing to you again. If you do, at least spare a thought that I have been reproaching myself. I understand that it may appear pitiful of me not to be able to let go, that I am not being a lady of good grace, but still I would have one last say. I am always looking to have the last say, am I not? Still, between you and between me, there are so many things left unsaid, and I dream of saying them to you.

Last March, when I wrote you farewell, I really thought that it would be the end. I did not think that I could pursue my feelings for you any further – partly, because of my situation, and also because I felt that there was no way that I could feel for you any more than I did then, I was so full with thoughts of you already. Or so it seemed. Of course, I have discovered since that it was otherwise. I discovered that the universe can expand.

For me, at least, it did. And on one hand, I want to reproach you, I blame you, for rubbing salt in the wound. Was it really necessary, to show me the bleakness of my plight in such stark perspective? Was it really necessary to show me what I would be missing and thus increase my sorrow? After all, what power would Hell have if we could not dream of Heaven? On the other hand, I am grateful, so grateful, gratefully yours. How can I thank you for raising me above my appointed lot, even if only in your eyes and mine? How can anyone thank enough the person who inspires them? I want to thank you for showing me my dreams in the fullness of reality. And I also want to thank you for showing me the beauty found in beauty lost.

This could be my last confession. This could be my last farewell. This could be the last time, so please remember and please don't forget. For what it's worth, I love you. And what is worse is that I really do.

And for what it's worth, there's nothing in this world that I ever wanted more than to never feel the breaking apart of me because of you. Now, this is the end, and this is, finally, my chance to yield in good grace. Please, take care of yourself, and as always, you have my best wishes, my best of everything.

Yours, as ever,

Takagi Tokio.

She had not sent it. Perhaps she had decided that to send it would only provoke more than it would lay to rest. Saitou read the letter again, carefully folded it, and secured it within his robes. Who could honestly say that they knew what was going through his mind at that very moment? Who would have had the nerve to approach him then, and say, 'I feel your pain'? He steeled himself. After all, he had his duty to perform. He started through the rest of the correspondence. Saitou was here, in her room, because Hirosawa had hinted that there might be some useful information to be found. Hijikata had frowned – it had made little sense to be searching here, when her Choushuu abductors were sure to have secured her away at one of their secret bases of operations. The most obvious course of action was to scour the streets of Kyoto for news and witnesses to her abduction. Still, it would be ill-advised, not to mention rude, to ignore the advice of Hirosawa.

And perhaps there would be a vital clue, thought Saitou, as he realized there was a hidden compartment in the correspondence box. A drawer – he managed to open it (a clever little trick clasp), and inside, he found an 'inrou', a signet stamp, and an address. 'The Aoi-ya?' He narrowed his eyes, his mind trying to unravel this discovery. A restaurant-inn? A name too, 'Okina'. Okina – an old man. He placed the items carefully into the front of his robes. Perhaps the quickest way to find Tokio would be to let her lead them.

Aoi-ya, late night –

A sharp rap on the door caused the man commonly known as Shiro to open his eyes wide awake. He tensed, and listened again. Another rap, and a call for somebody to open the door. Shiro got up quickly – no doubt Okina would have woken also, but he knew the older man would not bother answering a random late night call. He feigned bleary-eyed half-sleep as he undid the bolts of the side door (it was, after all, past one in the morning). His eyes could see better than most in the dark, and standing there, he saw two young men, one smiling affably and another whose face was as impassive as stone.

"Good evening...? Sirs?" Shiro faked a yawn. He wanted to get back to sleep quickly, and sleepy indifference might be enough to drive these two men away, whatever it was that they had come for.

"Please excuse us for calling upon you so late, but it was an urgent matter." The shorter man smiled apologetically. "We were wondering whether we could talk to 'Okina-san'."

"Okina's asleep. We all are, in fact, so please return in the morning."

"Well, in that case, we change our polite request to a formal demand, if you'll excuse us." Okita said, still in a very polite voice. Saitou pulled out the inrou, and showed it to Shiro.

"If this means anything to anyone here, that is."

Shiro tensed. That was the secret stamp of the Aizu-kou, and the Tokugawa shogunate. Shiro paused, as if to consider. To be sure, under his pledge, he was bound to serve any who held the seal.

"Show them in, Shiro-san." Shiro gave a slight start. Okina could really creep up on one when he wanted.

As the two men stepped inside the restaurant, they quickly took in their surroundings. Just an ordinary restaurant, but certainly not an ordinary old man. Saitou nearly smirked when he saw Okita, beneath his smiling veneer of politeness, turn wary. They sat down opposite Okina at one of the restaurant tables, and Shiro lit a lamp. Okina considered each of them with some curiosity, which was mirrored in Okita's face. Saitou merely glared.

"To get straight to the point," Okina began to speak, "I presume that Koumyouji have called in the Shinsengumi to aid with Takagi-san's abduction."

"Sugoi, you can tell that before we've even said anything?" Okita looked impressed. Saitou narrowed his eyes slightly. So this was Tokio's information network.

"Well, I make it a point to know who's who in Kyoto, young Captain Okita, and you have there Lady Takagi's inrou, and she was abducted this evening." Okina looked slightly proud of himself.

"Ahaha! Wow! You're a spy!"

"Yes, but different to your Yamazaki-san."

"You know Yamazaki-san?" Okita raised his eyebrows; it would not do for the Shinsengumi kansatsu-gata to be a well-known figure.

"Of course I do." Okita had an air of self-satisfaction. "Though your Yamazaki-san has no idea who I am."

"Maybe we'll tell him then."

"And maybe you won't. It would be wise for you not to get too close to us. Our operations, though we may work for the same side, are quite different."

"You said you'd get straight to the point." Saitou cut in brusquely. "What can you tell us about Takagi Tokio's kidnapping."

"Hmph! Respect your elders, is what I say, young man." Okita curled a lip at Saitou.

"I'll respect you when you've proved you deserve my respect. Where is Takagi's daughter?"

"Mah mah, Saitou-san, there's no need to be rude. We did after all wake them up suddenly this late at night."

"The younger man is right, you'd do well to listen to him, you insolent pup."

"Actually, I'm older than him, Okina-san."

"You are! Really?"

"Why does everyone act so surprised when they hear that?"

Saitou let out a loud hiss of impatience, and drawled,

"Well this is going nowhere fast."

"Ah, but neither is it going anywhere slowly."

Saitou glared at Okita, and mentally made a note to think of someway to make him suffer once this was over.

"Ahem. Really getting back to the topic, I will tell you young men," said Okina, emphasizing the word young in such a way to make it derisive, "I'll tell you that I'm already looking into the matter. I'm still waiting for reports, but rumour has it that she's been taken somewhere a little out of town, in the direction of Fushimi." He drank his tea. "If you bright sparks want to head in that direction, then I'll make sure that you receive word once I know more. Which shouldn't be too long, since the requests went out a good few hours ago." The Shinsengumi men gauged him apprehensively. "What, aren't you going to bow down and praise me for my magnanimity? After all, I'm giving you this information free."

"Arigatou gozaimasu, Okina-san. We appreciate your help." Okita, acting as guileless as ever.

"... Thank you."

"Okina-san, if I may be so bold, who are you?" Okita was looking curious again.

"Muhaha! What, I'm just an old man, who used to work in the gardens of Edo castle, that's all."

"Nnn?" Okita looked puzzled.

"Okita, we're leaving." Saitou had already gotten up and opened the door. He hesitated, then bowed to Okina. Okita got up and followed him.

"Thank you for helping us with our investigation."

"I wish you luck. Though, if you don't manage to rescue the dear girl, then most certainly I will, hahaha! I am quite fond of her, such a pretty little thing."

Okina shut the door behind them, and Shiro bolted the door. 'Really, such a dear thing,' thought Okina wistfully. A dark expression, so unexpected on the face of a seemingly harmless old man, caused Shiro to bow a little more respectfully than usual before he went back to bed. If harm came to Takagi Tokio, the shadows would dance in Kyoto to avenge her.

Quickly, Saitou and Okita walked through the moonlit streets of Kyoto. A cat crossed their path, and jumped up over a fence and disappeared behind the narrow houses. Okita was musing on the strange meeting.

"I wonder what he meant, a gardener at Edo castle?" He said half to himself.

"Ahou." Saitou quickened his pace, causing the shorter man to have to stretch his legs further in order to keep up. "He didn't say he was a gardener. He said he worked in the gardens." Okita still looked puzzled.

"The Oniwaban," Saitou said shortly.

"Aah! I see!" His momentary comprehension clouded over again. "Wait. But what are they doing in Kyoto? And why does Tokio-san know them?"

Saitou didn't bother answering – he felt Okita was trying to distract him on purpose, trying to keep his mind from brooding too much on the situation. And in truth, Okita was. He had never seen Saitou so troubled, try as he might to hide it. Rage, fury – all the dark emotions that usually they both tried so hard to deny. Giving in to them meant giving up the true way of the warrior. When they fought, they did not fight in anger, but for justice, and when they meted out justice, they did it not for their own satisfaction, but for what they believed to be the greater good. Saitou understood this too. Still... Still he felt it, the raw, freezing wrath.

He glanced down at Okita, and frowned.

"Okita, one of us needs to go back and report to Hijikata. Go back to Mibu, I'm going to take a horse and ride. Follow me as soon as you can."

Without giving Okita time to respond in protest, he started to run towards the nearest travel post. Okita's indignant objection that he was the Senpai, and Saitou should not be giving him orders, was perfunctorily ignored.

Tokio had to admit, it was a pure stroke of luck in a very bad situation that she had not lost her left geta when she had been carried off. And she had to thank Okina, for the kunai that had been strapped to and hidden against the raised sole, "just in case". Just in case. Her captors, probably with half a notion to cause her as much discomfort as possible, had not removed her footwear when they had bound her feet together. And really, they hurt quite a lot. Still, it was thanks to this that she had now managed to worry the kunai from its protective cover, and to start to slide it against her bonds. It was slow work, and painful, not just because the blade was not very sharp, but also because the bonds were so tight that her hands could move very little. The skin around her thumb and wrists was bleeding from the friction burns, and her nails were bleeding from the effort of trying to retain a grasp on the small steel object. She tried not to think about the candle burning away, as time passed painfully, just so painfully. Still, it burned itself into her mind, and among the desperate thoughts that crossed her mind, one amused her. She wondered whether they would go through her correspondence box, and find her last letter to Saitou. (The last of her few last letters, that is.) Wouldn't it be some kind of poetic justice if it were delivered to him, her last word, her last say after all?

Saitou kicked the horse harder than normal, urging it to go on, to go faster, through the moonlit streets and past the sleeping houses. It had been more than six hours since she had been abducted. Six hours – an eternity of bad thoughts. He had fought hard, and he had succeeded, in keeping his composure, in bearing himself professionally, at least on the surface. He had managed to reign his feelings in, and use them as fuel to feed his unwavering focus. Her letter, however, had nearly thrown him off balance completely. How dare she! How dare she claim the last word. Once in one lifetime would be enough, he fumed, to have to endure such emotional turbulence. Her last word, and there they had it, how convenient it would be if she were to disappear now, her life smothered. One Tokio in one lifetime was enough. They had already lost so much time. There had already been too many last times. 'No more,' he thought. As he sped in pursuit of Tokio, it seemed as though he was also in pursuit of lost time.