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The Courtship of Lady Tokio

by Misaki Toyodome

Chapter 25 - A Friendship of Swords and Sadness

Late February, early morning, 1865 –

"It was a fine way to die. You did well."

Startled by these unprompted words of praise, Okita came out of the reverie that the full pale moon on the lightening horizon had instilled in him as he and Saitou strolled through the cedar grove.

"Alright you, what have you done with the real Saitou Hajime?" Okita demanded warily.

"Ahou ga."

"Hmmm, that's more like it but I'm still not convinced."

"Shut up before you make me undo an idiot boy."

"Well then, go off and find one and undo him. In case you hadn't noticed, you are in the company of a respected elder, no doubt in the hope of hearing some words of wisdom to help you through these difficult times. Fear not, for I have taken pity upon your plight and – YOW, that's freezing!"

Lost in the lyricism of his own inanity, Okita failed to notice Saitou raising his sheathed sword and deftly knocking it against the dew-laden branches above the head of his chattering companion.

"Gah! My clothes are soaked ... of all the low down and dirty... what... are you...you're laughing, stop it, stop it this instant...that's a horrible sound...uggh...you really need to work on that."

One thing Okita could very well lecture on was laughter. He had a gift for it. That and swordsmanship. Preferring to hark back to Saitou's earlier words of praise than to dwell on the nature of his recent drenching, Okita shook his head and grinned.

"Yeah, it's true, I am the finest swordsman in the Shinsengumi, after all. No wonder Yamanami-sensei asked me..."

At the mention of Yamanami's name, however, the mirth drained from his voice.

"Saitou-san ... my soul is heavy."

"No wonder you were such an inept sparring partner yesterday."

"Hmm?"

"The soul of a Samurai is his sword".

It was the first principle of Bushido, and this simple statement had the desired effect. Each man remembered their friend and Vice Commander, who had taught them so much. There could be only one way to honour him justly. It seemed to Okita that the forest must have anticipated their thoughts, for no sooner were the words out of his friend's mouth than they came upon a clearing, bathed in the grey mist of the cold dawning of a winter sun.

Without a word, Saitou stopped in his tracks and drew his blade. Already, his sleeves were bound by thongs, ready for the fray.

'Now, just when did he do that...' Okita mused to himself as he walked on a bit further before stopping to tie his own sleeves, outwardly expressing these thoughts he threw out one last taunt,

"Y'know, sometimes, you're more ninja than samurai. I suppose it'll come in handy for all that sneaking about Tokio-san's father though-"

As he spoke, Okita had prepared himself, and well that he had. Another man would have fallen at the first blow that fell. Another man would not have been aware that Saitou was about to leap the six yards between them without so much as a grunt.

Parrying and weaving, the dawn chorus of the breaking day fell into silence. The birds and animals held their breath. Nothing but the sounds of two, fierce souls rang out, reverberating through the glade as they met and danced their deadly dance.

This bout, it was clear, was far more important to the two men who fought than one as simple as 'to the death'. Far from it. This was to the life. To the lives of their friends and comrades. To the lives of each other. To the Shinsengumi.

It was a celebration, and how they marked it!

Their breath, visibly mingling as they became more entangled, parted, halved and quartered before it had time to evaporate by blades flashing faster, swimming, it almost seemed, rather than flying through the air. Okita's grace had always been second to none, even Saitou could not match the elegance of his movements. This was accepted, because it was the truth, and how true he made it seem. As the body was one with the spirit, Okita was one with his sword, effortlessly spinning away now, lithely countering and pivoting, probing and testing his comrade to the limit, on they danced.

Saitou was his equal in swordsmanship however, and the fluidity of his motions coupled with his greater strength offset Okita's blade perfectly. A feral nature harnessed through years of self discipline and pure strength of mind, he met Okita's blade every time, perfectly synchronized, in total harmony, it was a melody of point, counterpoint, each time the challenge was made. His expert poise and ability could never have been more apparent, for he could never have been forced to fight so well by any other. Eye to eye, across their blades, their oaths were forged anew, in the flame of the fight, in the peace of the morning. They were Samurai. They were Shinsengumi. And as they began to laugh, the first rays of the rising sun hit the clearing. The dew on the trees magnified and divided the light as it glanced off the metal. It was a good day to be alive.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. Okita's shoulders heaved as his body was wracked by convulsions of coughing. As his sparring partner doubled over, Saitou appeared at his side and was about to help him stand, when he felt the deathly chill of steel against his neck. Okita smirked at him over the edge of his weapon with his blood-flecked lips.

"You never saw it coming." Another cough and he withdrew his sword, it weighed heavily in his limp hand. "I won. I am the greater swordsman, proven once and for all."

"Hmph. Whoever lives longest, that's who'll really win, you idiot."

"Well then, I'll still win!"

Saitou glared at Okita while he hoisted his comrade up, hauling one arm around his shoulders and tried to support him.

"Saitou-san, stop stop stop!"

"What?" Saitou snapped in impatience.

"This isn't going to work."

Saitou paused, and looked at his companion, whose feet were almost dangling in the air.

"You're too short." He let go of Okita unceremoniously and Okita staggered backwards.

"I am NOT too short! I am just the right height for Tokio-san!"

With that indignant outburst, Okita's body crumpled in another fit of coughing and he stumbled to a tree stump to sit.

"Ahou."

Saitou's voice sounded unconcerned but his eyes missed no detail as he watched the other man. He tossed him a gourd of water. Okita took a swig, swished it against his teeth before spitting it out, rinsing his mouth of phlegm. Then he drank and sighed.

"Some days are worse than others." He looked up through the needle-like leaves at the pale sky. "The doctors tell me that rest is all they can prescribe. Hahaha! Ironically, it's the thing I can least afford at the moment." He paused to take a deep breath, to ease his sore lungs. "I'm not afraid of dying, Saitou-san, I am afraid of becoming weak."

"Okita..."

"I know I know, live like a man, die like a man-"

"No, it's the bird-"

Before Saitou could finish his sentence, a heavy drip splattered on Okita's head and a crow cawed victoriously overhead and flew away. Okita froze for a full few seconds, and then a horrified howl issued forth. Birds took flight and animals hid at the sound. Okita quickly stood up, looked desperately around him for a second and then grabbed the flask of water on the stump, poured its contents over his hair, and then grasped at a piece of cloth hanging before him and frantically tried to wipe off the offending mess. Then with a start, he stopped, and looked up slowly, meeting the infuriated glower of his companion, and slowly let go of his sleeve. Saitou looked furiously from Okita to his soiled sleeve and then grabbed him by the front of his robes.

"Ahem." Okita smiled angelically. "Don't worry about that little thing, it was just a bird, it'll wash right out."

"You'll be doing my laundry for a month."

"Sheesh, no need to be so petty."

Okita ducked as Saitou swung, and broke out in another racking cough. Saitou frowned, trying to decide whether to hit him or help him, and then wordlessly took Okita's arm around his shoulders, bending down this time, and started to drag him back in the direction of the Shinsengumi compound.

"Saitou-san, really, there's no need, don't, urgh! Your sleeve! Keep it away! It's disgusting!"

An old farmer who had just entered the grove to collect firewood as he did every morning heard a resounding thwack followed by an exclamation of pain. The farmer froze in fear and puzzlement as he saw a tall, dangerous looking man towing a shorter man with a woebegone face along the path. He bowed in confusion as the short man waved at him as they passed, and scratched his head after they had gone.

"Strange people you find in the woods these days," he muttered to himself.

Saitou watched the men file into the dojo, some bleary-eyed and others yawning. As they paired off and started their warming up exercises, he continued with his solitary practice. Some of the men stopped to look at the Third Captain at times, but he paid them no heed.

"Hey Saitou!" Harada Sanosuke called out from behind him. "Where's Okita?"

"Sleeping." Saitou answered without looking.

"... So it's true? He's caught another cold?" Harada walked over and asked in a concerned voice. Saitou did not answer. Harada ran a hand through his hair and exhaled air through puckered lips. "Ptff. I was hoping that he'd come with me, but it doesn't look like he'll be able."

"I'll go with you." Yamazaki Susumu, in the compound for a rare change, joined them.

"Go where?" Saitou asked, not stopping the movement of his hands.

"To Akesato-san's place," Yamazaki answered. "It turns out that Yamanami-san had provided for her quite well."

Saitou lifted his head thoughtfully for a moment.

"Why on earth would we send this oaf?" Saitou looked at them for the first time, his eyebrow raised in mocking question.

"Yeah right, an oaf am I?" Harada took a step forward, while Yamazaki answered,

"Because this 'oaf' for some reason beyond any of us happens to have a way with women."

"Hah! You're all just jealous. Why, there's nothing to it, you just have to be kind and strong and listen to what they want to tell you, is all. Oh, and the 'wanna see my big spear' line always gets them." Harada winked lewdly at his own joke.

"Ahou ga." Saitou turned back to the task at hand.

"Hey!"

"Is Okita-kun going to be alright?" Yamazaki asked Saitou, both of them ignoring Harada.

"I'm not a doctor." Saitou answered, sidestepping the question. "So, Akesato-san will be free now." He changed the topic.

"Yep, turns out Yamanami-san went to visit her folks while he was away, and although he couldn't afford a full Gion wedding, he had enough to pay off the debts so she can go home. She'll be inheriting his estate as well, and also his pension." Harada nodded in admiration and in sorrow. "He sure knew how to treat a lady."

It was difficult to believe that they would never see Yamanami again. It was so difficult to go about their lives as though nothing much had changed. Saitou fixed a sleeve that was about to roll back down.

"Harada, we'll be leaving soon, are you ready?" Yamazaki asked quietly.

"... Yeah, just hang on a second." Harada squinted suspiciously at Saitou. "Oi, Saitou, just what exactly does Takagi Tokio see in you? I mean, is it your freakish obsession with laundry?"

Saitou didn't respond, occupied as he was with pulling up another bucket of water from the well. Yamazaki burst out laughing as Harada started to prance around, twirling a white sheet in the air.

"Oh look, clean laundry! How doth the smell of freshly hung garments tickle mine senses! Oh sweetie, I love you so!"

Harada coyly batted his eyelids and started kissing the air. Yamazaki leaned in towards him and joined him, puckering their lips closer, and promptly they both staggered around clutching their stomachs, gasping for air. As they caught their breaths, Yamazaki turned to Harada and asked,

"Hey, were you doing Tokio-san?"

"Yes, yes I was." Harada admitted guiltily.

Neither man had too much time to ponder the implications of this slightly unsettling admission, however, as they suddenly recalled who it was they were taunting and simultaneously became aware of the mortal danger they were in, that little bit too late, as it transpired. With a surge of dirty soap water and a clatter of the washboard, Harada and Yamazaki were drenched and yelped as Saitou first caught Yamazaki and stepped on his head, keeping him down against the flagstones as he strangled Harada with a wet cloth.

"Ugh! Gross, Saitou, that's your fundoshi!" Harada clawed and struggled his way out of Saitou's vice-like grip, and bit Saitou's hand. The commotion immediately drew a crowd. Trying to split them up, Toudou rushed towards Harada and received a vicious jab to the jaw meant for Saitou.

This would become known as the Great Fight of February, Second Year of Ganji, mistakenly recorded as having been started by a struggle over clean fundoshi. As destruction spread throughout the compound, Hijikata throwing a fit and almost passing out he shouted so much, Kondou made a mental note that really, it was high time they found a new base of operations – Mibu had just grown too small for the Shinsengumi. It was only much later in the afternoon that a black eyed and bandaged Harada and Yamazaki with a huge lump on his head and a large footprint-shaped bruise on the side of his face turned up at Akesato's oki-ya. As far as Saitou's explanation to Hijikata went, lasting bodily harm was the least that they deserved. After all, it was his pride that had been injured. Saitou was sentenced to three days of confinement in his room.

The emptiness of time that week had left Tokio with an aching heart. Having been forbidden to leave Koumyouji, and deprived of much human interaction – her father was still displeased with her – she had had too much time to dwell on those things that made her sad. Sadness, she reflected, was not a single state of mind. What treacherous meditation.

As she worked through it, breaking on through from one side into another, finding each time fresh sorrows waiting to waylay her, there, in that many roomed house of tears. There was the sadness of Death. The sadness of those left behind by the dead. These two were at the forefront of her mind, but then they would bring other unwelcome companions. The sadness of incompletion. The sadness of completion. The sadness of knowing that happiness ends. The sadness of reveling in sorrow. The sadness of poetry that would never be read, or worse, written. The sadness of children growing up. Of them not growing up. The sadness of love without release. It was the last night of February, or perhaps the first night of March, that she added another to her list – the sadness that she was alive, she was in love, but still she asked for more. She was dwelling on that thought when her bedroom door slid open with a secret sigh, she shivered as a draft entered the room but nevertheless, she sat up to greet her midnight visitor. She wondered how it was that even in the lightless night of a cloudy sky, Saitou Hajime's eyes still glittered gold.

"You should not be here," she whispered against his ear as he sat down beside her, he could feel the warmth emanating from her cheek and she could feel the chill of his. "... But I have been hoping to see you." The overwhelming pounding of her heart at that moment – it hurt enough to almost break.

She draped a blanket over his shoulders. He caught her arm as she did and pulled her towards him. She resisted for a moment, but then acquiesced. It would be warmer, and she cared too much for his closeness to care about propriety. Anyway, if anyone were to actually catch them together, a self-conscious sense of propriety would not be enough to excuse them.

"I've been busy." Saitou offered brusquely by way of explaining why she had not seen him sooner.

"... I heard. I hope that your laundry is sufficiently clean now." Saitou frowned as Tokio stifled a chuckle.

"Who told you?" He growled in a low voice. Tokio inclined her head to look at him better.

"Word travels fast – women are particularly interested in the matter of undergarments when it comes to attractive men."

He snorted contemptuously, and then slowly he smirked,

"What exactly did you mean by that?"

Tokio flushed as she realised that her comment had backfired. Seeking to change the subject, she asked,

"So, what did you do for three days, alone in your room?"

"... Do you really want to know?" His voice dropped dangerously, and her blush deepened, she half-heartedly struggled in abashed protest as he pressed her closer against him. "As a matter of fact, it gave me enough time to catch up on Yamazaki's reports." He loosened his grip and she relaxed, although she did not pull back away. "You know Yamazaki-" Tokio nodded. "- He had an update on my findings in Osaka."

"Your findings in Osaka? Did you apprehend the Choushuu roushi you were looking for?"

"Not yet, but we will."

"... You might try letting them swim a while. It might be interesting to see where they lead..."

"We've already thought of that. That weapons route that's supplying them needs to be cut."

"The weapons from the store in Fushimi, or from the Furutaka store?" She furrowed her brow in concentration.

"Both. Yamazaki thinks they have the same manufacturers. The swords come from one smithy, we know that much. The workmanship is too similar for it to belong to different parties."

Saitou watched her as she digested this information, biting slightly on her lower lip. After a few moments, she shook her head ruefully, and smiled apologetically.

"I'm afraid that I'm no longer a factor in operations here, I couldn't even ask the Aoi-ya to help you. I'm sorry."

"Hmph. The Shinsengumi hardly needs the advice of a mere slip of a girl." She gasped in mock resentment. "Also, Hijikata's been hell bent on this whole relocation scheme of his.

"Relocation? So rumours that the Shinsengumi is looking for a new base of operations are true?"

"He's settled on Nishi-Honganji, but the monks are not being cooperative."

"Nishi-Honganji..." She lowered her head and cautiously laid it against his shoulder, as though expecting him to shrug it off. "The Shinsengumi are still suffering from the loss of Yamanami-sensei, but life for Hijikata Toshizou simply continues about its business..." She frowned reprovingly, as though she were looking at Hijikata.

"Tokio, the Shinsengumi has grown too large for Mibu. And it was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement there anyhow. As for Hijikata," Saitou narrowed his eyes slightly, "it is not so strange to imagine that he wants a change." Tokio looked up at him as he spoke. "People deal with grief differently."

"So Hijikata-sama deals by trying to forget as quickly as possible..."

"Hijikata deals by trying to move on. It's not so strange that he should want to."

Such a matter of fact tone, it made her wonder how Saitou dealt with grief. After a moment's contemplation, she murmured,

"Still, Nishi-Honganji is an unusual but clever move." He looked at her sharply, and even in the poor light he could tell that she smiled slyly. "The monks there have been sympathetic to Choushuu, which explains why they've been awkward about the relocation proposal." She half-closed her eyes languidly as she spoke. "At the very least, they have harboured Choushuu fugitives, and for the Shinsengumi to realign their base there would be a good tactical move."

She noticed Saitou studying her carefully, and lifted her head off his shoulder in question. She arched her back and stretched away from him. He caught her to prevent her rolling out of his arms.

"... You sound like Hijikata." She frowned and he smirked, and she pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "He also said that Nishi-Honganji have been too sympathetic to Choushuu and have harboured too many Ishin-Shishi." He pulled the blanket back. "I take it that you see little problem with the Shinsengumi occupying a venerated religious institution."

"I can't really say much, can I, what with Aizu here at Koumyouji. I understand that Nishi-Honganji is very important to the people of Kyoto and that they might be upset at the so-called bloodthirsty wolves of Mibu setting up shop there, but since that's the reputation that you've already cultivated, what does it matter? The Shinsengumi will gain more presence and visibility by the move, and in any case," she yawned prettily and yanked the blankets towards her again, "it would be making Choushuu's work a little harder, and your work a little easier, so I don't see why you would be bothered by it."

"I'm not bothered by it, and obviously neither is Hijikata, and damn you woman, stop hogging the covers."

As though to emphasise his words, he growled and grabbed the sheets, and she gasped as she lost her balance and grasped him around the shoulders as she collapsed onto the futon. She only half managed to stifle a quiet burst of laughter as he tried to get back up and she held on tight, when they heard somebody come out of his room and start to walk down a corridor not far away. In the stillness of the night, they froze with the instant tension of possible discovery. The footsteps crept along, and the tension was enhanced as they became acutely aware of their closeness. The pulse of her wrist pounded against the back of his neck. He found her self-conscious blush deliciously amusing as her eyes darted from his eyes to the door, to the ceiling and then back to his eyes. She no longer looked away, taking deep, silent breaths and trying not to tremble. In the cold of the night, their bodies' warmth seeped through the layers of clothes and mingled. Even as the footsteps disappeared, they did not move, they did not want to move, unwilling to break that something that was passing between them at that moment. Very, very slowly, did Saitou bow his head, and her eyes were still open when his lips barely grazed hers. It was a deceptively simple touch belying a demanding core. She closed her eyes after a while, her eyelashes fluttering against his in an unforeseen caress.

As he drew away unhurriedly, she snapped and grabbed the front of his robes, her heart a thousand sunbursts in her chest. He let her push him roughly onto his back as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. She lay very still like that, but gradually, a warm wetness bled through the cloth as she cried. He did not move, he barely even blinked through her sighs and deep breaths and suppressed shudders. Eventually, they subsided, and turning over, she wiped the residual moisture from her face with the back of her hand.

"I am sorry." It was a barest whisper. He did not reply. "It's just that I felt a little overwhelmed. There has been so much sadness recently. Yamanami-sensei... And the lady called Akesato... Everything that is happening in Kyoto. And soon, I will be leaving here. And then there's you, it frightens me at times how much I care..." He did not reply, but the arm around her waist tightened ever so slightly. "But I have faith, Hajime. I have faith in you." She smoothed out the fabric about his shoulder. "I am sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"... Mourning takes its toll."

"Even on you?" Her smile had a touch of rue.

He did not answer.

In her case, her already heightened sensitivities had been overloaded by the contact between them. The closeness between them had reduced the world to where they were touching, her cheek on his shoulder, her breath on his neck, her hand on his ribcage, his arm around her back and waist, her knees curled up against his side. All the emotions that had been brimming had spilled over, the surface tension breaking with his kiss. Saitou understood – for she was not the only one to care. She understood, of course, that he would not be there if he did not. She had learned to love him before he had even thought it possible, and he had rearranged his mind to make room for her to stay. And in her release, he had wordlessly taken his comfort. They lay in contented silence for a while, growing closer still though unmoving.

"... Do you always keep your bow at hand?" He asked in a perfunctory manner.

Startled by the sudden question, Tokio quickly glanced over at the bow and quiver on its stand within an arm's reach of her pillow.

"... That night when Koumyouji was attacked, I realised that I may need to defend myself."

"It's not the most practical weapon for warding off intruders." Saitou drawled, thinking back to a conversation from what seemed a lifetime ago, and a voice saying that Kyudo was not for the taking of life.

"It's the one I feel most comfortable with."

"And can you shoot in the dark?"

"Well enough to cripple a man."

Saitou turned his head towards her and took note of the harsh glint in her eye.

"... You've changed." It was a frank statement, neither accusing nor admiring.

The simple fact of the matter was that Tokio had changed, she had grown somewhat, a little older, a little wiser, and little more aware that the world had the potential to hurt her.

"... And so have you." She shrugged at him.

"Hmph. How so?" He raised an eyebrow with the tone of his voice.

"Well, you did not always think I was beautiful..." Her voice trailed off daringly.

"Ahou. Whoever said I think that now?" He snorted derisively, his breath showing white in the chill air.

"Oh, so you don't? I'm glad that we cleared that up," her low voice murmured teasingly, "and I might as well tell you that for my part, I am only interested in your undergarments."

It was not often that Saitou Hajime was caught off guard, but this was one of the few times that he missed a beat, and Tokio buried her head against his shoulder again, but this time to muffle her laughter. Even in sadness, it would be one of the happier nights of the recent months, for the both of them. She loved him for almost everything he was, and he decided that that was enough to make him want to stay for a very long time. But time slows for no man, and before the cock crowed and before the sun rose, he would slip noiselessly from her quarters and when she awoke in the morning, she would be alone. In the cold air of the morning, the memories of his touch would help to keep her warm, yet at the same time, leave her with such an empty space to carry in her heart.

- 2nd March 1865, late afternoon –

"Okita-han, thank you very much, but please do not tire yourself out too much."

"I'm alright, Akesato-san, and I'm sorry that I wasn't here for the big move."

"Okita-han, I told you, I am no longer Akesato, and to call me 'Sato'." The lady formerly known as Akesato chided the young man in her lilting, Kyoto dialect.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. O-Sato-san," Okita corrected himself. "But anyhow, Harada-san and Nagakura-san did most of the heavy work yesterday. I'm hardly going to tire myself out doing this."

"Those big men managed fine on their own." She coaxed him to sit down, laying tea and sweets on the table, which was the only bit of furniture arranged properly in the room, cluttered with stacked boxes. "You were still recovering from your cold."

"Your words wound me to the quick, O-Sato-san! Am I not as much a man as they?" Okita placed a hand over his heart in jest, and then laughed. "I won't complain though, they had to do the hard work and all I have to do is unwrap the dishes."

This was Sato's new house, bought with Yamanami Keisuke's pension. She had thought about returning to her family home after she had been released from Gion, but decided instead to stay in Kyoto, and closer to the Shinsengumi. Her memories here were important to her. And the Shinsengumi treated her with the respect reserved for the families of their leaders. They had helped her find a new home, and were now helping her to settle in. She appreciated their company during the day, and appreciated it even more that they left her alone at night. The night was for her and her alone, to think and remember her lover.

Okita would make her laugh, he had so many stories about Yamanami, and it made her smile that she had heard many of the same stories from Yamanami himself, from his point of view, which usually had Okita as a childlike troublemaker, and in which case Yamanami was the victim of many of his pranks. The way Okita told it, Okita was always the innocent bystander who got dragged into trouble. After the tea break, Okita returned to unpacking household items out of their boxes, and Sato stepped outside to sweep her front gate. She should have been glad, she noted, that for the first time in her life, she had some form of domestic freedom and ease, and a place to call her own. Yet, she could not help but treat her newfound position with the sorrow of a widow.

Her house was a modest house, with a modest garden, and the front gate opened out onto a fairly busy street in the main market district of Kyoto. It was convenient, as she was within a few blocks of her new workplace, a kimono workshop, where her expertise and experience would be of use. She had brought some fantastic kimonos of her own from Gion, gifts from wealthy patrons, but she doubted that she would ever wear them. Those too were now also just memories.

As she swept, she noticed a girl watching her from a store across the street. She lowered her head and did not meet her eyes – the few times she had left the confines of Gion as a geisha, she had drawn many stares, but that was because Akesato was meant to do so. Now, she was just Sato. She straightened up after she had finished sweeping, and she saw that the girl was still looking at her. An exceedingly pretty girl, Sato noted. She was about to head back inside, when the girl hurriedly crossed the street.

"Excuse me," she called out in a hushed voice. "I'm sorry to bother you, but, I was wondering, have we met before?"

Her accent and manner of speaking immediately identified her as a woman of a high samurai household. In which case, she would surely be mistaken about knowing Sato.

"I'm afraid that you must be mistaken," Sato smiled gently. "I am new to the area, I have just moved here."

"... Akesato-san?" The girl peered into her face.

Sato stopped moving, frowning, wondering where this girl knew her from.

"I apologise for my rudeness," the girl seemed flustered, "my name is Tokio, Takagi Tokio, and I just thought... Not that you would know me but..." Her voice trailed off.

"My name is Sato," Sato stated firmly, and then added, "now."

Tokio bowed, realising that she had been right, though she had hesitated to identify this attractive but plainly dressed lady as the geisha who had appeared in a whirl of elaborate robes at the Shinsengumi compound.

"... I saw you at Mibu, a week ago." Tokio murmured, and Sato's heart wrenched at the thought. "I just wanted to say... I, I do not know what I wanted to say." She finished meekly.

Sato took a couple of deep breaths and walked the short distance to the front engawa of the house. She sat down, and gestured to Tokio to do the same. Tokio followed, glancing back once at her guard over at the store, a stocky man with a beard who frowned as Tokio entered the gate.

"... Tokio-han, Tokio..." Sato repeated, recalling the name. And then her eyes widened in recognition. "Saitou-han's Tokio-han?"

A light colour rose to Tokio's cheeks as she looked down at the ground, wondering how well known her relationship with Saitou Hajime was.

"I heard from Yamanami-sensei." Sato said gently, looking at Tokio with a new appreciation. "I am pleased to meet you."

"Please, the pleasure is mine, O-Sato-san," Tokio answered quickly. She hesitated, and then tried to continue. "I, I just wanted to extend my condolences... I am sorry for your loss." Sato bowed her head graciously. "I did not mean to impose, you must excuse my rudeness..." Tokio seemed to become less sure of herself as she talked.

"I understand. And thank you." Sato came to her rescue. "Not many people understand, they cannot understand what he meant to me." Tokio nodded her head slowly, and encouraged, Sato began to speak more freely. "You see, when I met him, I was hiding in a garden, crying about my future. My father's illness had worsened, and I could no longer support my family simply by being a geisha of the arts..." Tokio stiffened, knowing what that implied. "A geisha who sold more than her arts could earn more money, but I still had my pride. The idea, it upset me terribly." Sato shuddered at the recollection. "Yamanami-sensei, he saw me, and asked me what was the matter, and I couldn't help myself from telling him, he was so gentle. And he comforted me and stayed with me, and then, he became a most generous patron. He never asked any more of me than just my company." She smiled so sadly. "He was so gentle to me, and when I fell in love with him, he gave me everything he had." She waved her hand, indicating the house. "This, my freedom, everything that I hold dear, I owe it all to him."

"... He was such a good man. The world is a sadder place for his passing."

"The men we love," Sato fixed Tokio with a look that made her shiver, "we love them despite the danger to ourselves. Our love has such power to hurt us, and we love them in spite of that." She spoke in the present tense, Tokio noticed.

"Being who they are, they are prepared to die everyday..." Tokio sighed, recalling Saitou's words.

"And knowing this, I still was not prepared... Are you?" Sato murmured asked painfully.

Tokio froze, and shook her head. Sato closed her eyes, willing back the tears. She could manage this during the day, but at night, her sorrow was relentless.

"And still we love them. And the pain that I feel now is the happiness I had before. That's the deal."

"And life continues about its business with no regard that your world has ended..." Tokio spoke softly.

"The world ends, and I still linger." Sato looked at Tokio. "I used to dream of my freedom, of the freedom to be with the man I love. I used to dream of having our own house. I imagined setting the table for two. On very hopeful days, I imagined setting a meal for the whole family." She saw Tokio close her eyes. "Women like us who love men as they, we must be careful, for the suit of woe makes for such a comfortable fit, and it wears for a long, long time." There was poetry in her voice which came of her time as a geisha – years of training had ingrained it in her as second nature.

"... Do you regret it?"

"Do I regret falling in love?" Sato looked down at her feet and smiled. "Never. I do not even regret becoming a geisha, it brought me to meeting Yamanami-sensei. I don't know if you understand, but I am sad but I cannot regret... It would be disrespectful to his memory and to his love."

"... I think I do understand." Tokio reopened her eyes, the barest trace of tears giving them a brighter sheen.

"I wish you and Saitou-han more happiness and more time than we were allowed." Sato looked away from Tokio and watched two sparrows chittering in a tree. "I asked Yamanami-sensei, about why you couldn't be together now, and he told me that it was because Saitou-han was only a Shinsengumi captain, whereas you were one of the grandest women in Aizu." Sato smiled a little mischievously. "Well, if you're here, talking to a former geisha, you cannot be nearly so respectable as all that. There's hope for you yet."

Tokio chuckled, and bowed her head.

"Thank you, for taking the time to talk to me, and for all your kind words."

"... Thank you, for letting me talk." Sato smiled back sadly.

Tokio had understood more than just her words, Sato felt, she knew what it meant to be in love with a man of the Shinsengumi, and a love that could not be completely fulfilled. It was strange, that she felt comfortable talking to this lady of the Aizu court. Under ordinary circumstances, it would have been unthinkable. Then again, these were extraordinary times. A little hesitantly, she ventured,

"If you please, please feel free to drop by again. I do not have friends outside Gion, and, it has been nice to be able to talk to someone who understands..."

Her voice was so gentle, and Tokio felt as though she understood a little why Yamanami Keisuke had loved her. Beyond Sato's beauty, there was a depth and warmth and gentleness that matched the late Vice Commander.

"O-Sato-san, I am most flattered, and I would dearly like for us to be friends..." Tokio smiled, "but unfortunately, I am leaving for Edo in about a fortnight." Tokio bowed her head, and Sato felt a pang of regret. "I hope that you will allow me to write to you though."

Sato was just about to reply in agreement, when the screen behind her rattled open quickly and Okita's mock reproach called out,

"O-Sato-san, here I am slaving away inside while you're busy chatting and enjoying yourself with- AAH! Tokio-san, what on earth are you doing here!"

Startled, Tokio had jumped up, and her hand to her heart, she exclaimed,

"Okita-sama, you gave me such a fright! I didn't know that you were here."

"We're taking it in turns to help O-Sato-san move in," Okita answered, referring to the Shinsengumi. "But why are you here?"

"I saw Tokio-han outside, and we just started talking." Sato answered.

"I was shopping for gifts to bring to my brother and sister in Edo, when I saw O-Sato-san." Tokio said at the same time.

Okita looked at them suspiciously.

"O-Sato-san, do you know who she is?"

"Yes of course, Yamanami-sensei told me. Tokio-han is Saitou-han's secret-"

"Wah! She's not his secret anything!" Okita flailed his arms and interrupted as Tokio blushed crimson. "She's MY fiancιe!"

"She is?" Sato blinked rapidly in confusion.

"I am?" Tokio inclined her head.

"She is?" A new voice, belonging to Harada Sanosuke who had just entered the gates, joined in.

"She is not." Another voice behind him, Saitou's, almost snarled.

"She is. We're just the right height for each other!" Okita announced defiantly, putting his arm around Tokio's shoulder. He smiled at Tokio, and she smiled back bemusedly, and he blushed a little but did not move. He stared challengingly at Saitou.

"Oi, Okita, what the hell's going on, when did you get engaged to Tokio-san, when's the freaking wedding, and what the hell is going on! Hey, O-Sato-chan, did Okita just propose to Tokio-san and did she say yes or- OWW!"

Saitou's closed fist came down on Harada's head. Other than that however, Saitou's expression veered between boredom and unconcern.

"Ahou." Saitou placed the boxes that he had been carrying inside the front porch and came back out again. "She is not the right height for you." Tokio's heart beat wildly at that unexpected and uncharacteristic statement of what counted as public possessiveness from Saitou Hajime. "She's just the right height to be my chin-rest."

There was a moment of silence before the arguing started again.

"Tokio-san, this lout just called you a chin-rest! Fear not, for I will defend your honour!"

"Ahou ga. Tokio, your blocky bearded guard is waiting for you, go back to Koumyouji."

"What! How dare you call her by just her first name, you disrespectful scoundrel!"

"What the hell is going on? Am I just stupid or has the world gone crazy!"

"Ahou. You're just stupid."

"O-Sato-san, I am so sorry for the inconvenience, but I better be going. I apologise for this confusion."

"Oh, it's not your fault, Okita-han is just a troublemaker-"

"I am not the troublemaker, O-Sato-san!"

"O-Sato-chan, Saitou just called me an idiot."

"Harada-sama, Saitou-sama cannot help but be honest."

"Hey! Tokio-san, that hurts."

"THAT IS ENOUGH!" A voice bellowed out. They all whirled around to see Tokio's guard standing at the gate, red in the face. He cleared his throat. "Ojou-sama, we must be going. I have arranged for the gifts to be delivered to Koumyouji tomorrow."

Tokio nodded, and as she was bowing and about to say farewell, Okita walked over to Saitou, stood underneath him, glaring menacingly. Saitou did not move, but glared back at the shorter man, and then, without any warning, Okita jumped. His head hit the underside of Saitou's chin, and Saitou's head flew back at the impact. Tokio, Sato, Harada and her guard froze in horror and the two sparrows flitted away.

"That is for all the people of chin-rest height in the world everywhere!" Okita cackled as he fled. "See you soon, O-Sato-san, all your dishes are unpacked! Take care Tokio-san!" Okita disappeared like the wind before Saitou had time to recover.

The scene that he left behind had Tokio peering into Saitou's mouth to see whether his tongue was cut, while Saitou's glares seemed fit to annihilate everything within his line of sight, and Sato tried to soothe Harada as he grew more upset, with Tokio's guard starting to go red in the face again. Tokio would leave for Koumyouji after a few minutes, reassured that Saitou had not bitten off his tongue as he cursed a blue streak, and with her thanks to Sato and promises to write, and Harada grumbling to himself about how he was not an idiot.

Okita meanwhile, streaking a cloud of dust as he raced through the town, rubbed the top of his head. Saitou's chin had been extremely hard, and he had a nasty bump welling up.