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The Courtship of Lady Tokio

by Misaki Toyodome ::: 26.Mar.2006

Chapter 26 - A Bitter Way to Say Farewell

Early March, 1865 –

It was unnaturally warm for early spring, the man known locally as Yoshio thought as he chewed a strip of dried squid. He chased this down with a shot of sake, and while he theorized as to how long this bit of squid had actually lain in the dingy cupboards of the izaka-ya, a snippet of conversation from another table caught his attention.

"So you're saying the Shinsengumi tricked the priests at Nishi-Honganji into accepting their terms?"

"Why else would O-Nishi-san have given in? Nobody wants those Miburo in their neck of the woods, let alone living with them. Talk about wolves at the door."

"Huh. Well, it's typical if you ask me. Those guys have no manners. Why just the other day, I saw them ambush this merchant with his cart, claiming that he was running weapons into the city. I mean, it wasn't a fair fight, ten of them against these four merchant types."

"Were they running weapons?"

"... I dunno. Twasn't fair though, if you ask me."

Yoshio grimaced and knocked back another cup of sake. He could have told them that yes, those 'merchants' were running weapons, and the fact that they'd been apprehended meant another setback to his plans. No matter, patience was of the essence, and time was on his side. 'Good things come to those that wait.' He liked that maxim.

Yoshio fancied himself somewhat as a philosopher. He was now mulling over a favourite Confucian riddle. 'If a tree falls in the forest, with no one to hear it, does it still make a sound?' Of course it did – in fact, the most important actions and events were often those that one did not see. Hence, while people in the neighbourhood knew him as 'Yoshio the Carpenter', his true identity was kept hidden. And what he was doing now was felling those trees in that forest, one trunk at a time. Metaphorically speaking, of course, and he liked that metaphor.

One of the trees that he was working to fell at the moment – he smacked his lips as he took another mouthful of drink – was a most beautiful tree. She had almost been taken beyond his reach, but he had not lost sight of her. Oh no, ever since that day when he had happened upon her at Kiyomizu, that pure stroke of luck when she had crossed their paths unbidden and unsuspecting, he had been waiting to take an axe to that pretty little neck of hers. That day - that day was a cautionary tale in what could happen when one acted rashly. With no forethought, only the excitement of grasping the opportunity that had presented itself, they had rushed headlong to seize her, and they had paid for it dearly. The eleven of them, his former comrades, they had practically been sitting targets for the Shinsengumi while he had gone to consult Katsura-sensei. Sensei had been worried, he recalled, that this would cause unwarranted difficulties (which in hindsight it had). Still, it had been decided at that time that she would tell them everything she knew about Aizu's operations, and then die. Almost six months had passed since, but he had vowed that things would be carried out according to Katsura-sensei's instructions. And the day was fast approaching.

Politicians and officials were all very well and practical, but what would really cause a stir would be a pretty, dead girl. And it was appropriately in line with their policies as she was properly connected – to Aizu, to Matsudaira, to the Bakufu. It would be sensational, and it would also be sweet revenge. How could his comrades rest in peace on the other side of the Sanzu-no-kawa, while she still breathed? This girl had dared to escape, and incurred a blood debt. It would have to be settled before she left Kyoto, and then he could concentrate on what to do about the Shinsengumi.

Yoshio asked that his bill be put on his tab and exited the building, with a few words of farewell to the other patrons as he picked up a lantern. He stretched his arms above his head for a few moments and started to walk. As a shadow moved out of a side alley, Yoshio's hand went instinctively to his carpentry tools.

"Relax, it's only me, no need to reach for your chisel." A low voice greeted him.

"Shiozaka," Yoshio acknowledged gruffly, "how long have you been waiting out here?"

"Oh, since about two bottles of sake ago. You seemed like you were enjoying your own company, so I let you alone."

"You should have come in." They started to walk in step.

"Nah, and have you subject me to all that 'trees and forest' business again?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, that lecture you gave the last time we met, about how there were trees falling in the forest and nobody was around to hear them, and nobody would notice until it was too late that there was no forest anymore. Ah, you're a man of metaphors and maxims, you are."

"What's wrong with that?" Yoshio asked defensively.

"Besides being utterly boring?" Yoshio glared. "Well, for one thing, there's an inherent contradiction in what you were saying. First you were talking about how people would not notice that the trees were falling one at a time, because the forest hid them, but then, you went on about how 'people are careless, they can't see the forest for the trees' and that they'd only wonder where all the trees were gone when the forest was no longer there. You know, you gotta decide, do they see the forest, or do they see the trees, and what won't they see when it's all gone?"

"Hmm, hadn't thought of that. I'll need to concentrate on this conundrum."

"Please don't, for all of our sakes." Shiozaka rolled his eyes.

"Well if you only came to insult me," came the testy response.

"Actually, I brought you a gift." Shiozaka reached into his robes and fished out a piece of paper. "Straight from Shinsengumi headquarters y'know, from the wolves' den itself."

Yoshio lifted his lantern to study it closely before putting it away carefully.

"It's exactly what I was looking for. I'm surprised that you were able to get it so easily."

"Hah! The Miburo are much too preoccupied with their internal issues at the moment to see what's right beneath their noses."

"The relocation scheme?"

"They've got a lot of stuff to move, for a whole barrack of men. Poor O-Nishi-san, how good you were to many of our countrymen." Shiozaka shook his head. "It seems that Hijikata isn't getting on so well with this new Itou Kashitarou and his faction. It's only aggravated matters that Itou is the new military counsel, y'know, in Yamanami's place."

"Hah! Typical! Typical of dogs of the Bakufu, backstabbing each other and turning on themselves." Not like the Ishin-Shishi, Yoshio drew himself up. The Ishin-Shishi were united in their cause and ideals, unlike those power hungry pack of animals.

"Anyhow, I've to head to meet Yamagata after this. How about you?"

"... I've got some things to prepare." Yoshio grinned just at the thought of it.

"... Are you sure about this?" Shiozaka looked faintly skeptical, knowing what Yoshio had in mind.

"Hah! Katsura-sensei himself approved it. Of course I'm sure."

"Katsura-sensei agreed to it half a year ago, when there really was no other choice, considering what you and your men risked. He hasn't mentioned anything about it since the first attempt failed."

"The first attempt failed because we did not think it through properly. This time, I know my prey, I know what I'm doing." Yoshio nodded vehemently, as though to emphasise his confidence. Retribution – the honour of his fallen men required this.

"Well, I won't stop you." Shiozaka sighed. "But you know the drill, 'spill your guts' before you spill your guts." Yoshio nodded – death before betrayal, that was the rule. "But trust you to go after the pretty ones, Inoshishi."

With that, Shiozaka parted ways with the man he had called Inoshishi, the last living member of the Ishin Juunishi.

It was an unpleasantly warm spring night, and the heat only aggravated Saitou's ill temper. He was wearing too many layers, and he was feeling too contrary to take any off, but that was not the cause of his bad mood. No, the cause of his bad mood had just sauntered in the gates of the compound, slightly tipsy and noisy and hugging the shoulders of Nagakura and Harada.

"A lonely life for a drinking man, a fighting life for a Samurai-san..." The off-key tune drew closer and grew louder.

"Okita!" Saitou's voice snapped above their singing. "You were supposed to meet me an hour ago at the training hall."

"I was?" A puzzled look appeared upon Okita's flushed face, while Nagakura and Harada gave one last rousing chorus of the popular song.

"Ooooh, a soldier's plight to be alone at night!"

"I left you a message this afternoon. It was on your desk."

"No you didn't, or if you did, at least I didn't see it." Okita gave a little sake-scented burp, incensing the already irate and sober Saitou.

"What, did Okita-kun stand you up, Saitou-kun?" Nagakura adopted a tone of mock concern.

"Your singing, Nagakura, was less of an irritant than you addressing me directly," came the retort.

"Okita-kun, shame on you! Don't you know how Saitou-kun pines for you when you're not here?" Harada chimed in, stoking the furnace that his comrade had started to ignite. "Go on, Okita, give him a kiss and make up." Harada, it seemed, had forgotten in his drunken state what had happened the last time he had taunted Saitou.

"I will not give him a kiss!" Okita played along with the mood, shaking his head, affecting the mannerisms of a shy maiden. The tell-tale vein began to throb on Saitou's forehead. "Oh dear, I think he's mad. Don't you Nagakura-san? Look at it, it's gathering pace, our very own Saitou-meter! Hahaha..." His laugh petered out as he noticed the darkness descending over Saitou's face.

"What's he gonna do, mix up my clean and dirty laundry? Ooh I'm so scared!" Harada put his hands to his cheeks and made an 'o' with his mouth. "Well, here's news for ya: I have no clean laundry!" He declared proudly and puffed out his chest. And then noticed that both Okita and Nagakura were looking at him askance. "What?"

It was just in time that Nagakura turned his attention back to Saitou, who was muttering something that sounded like "Aku, Soku, Zan", and quickly moved to calm him down.

"Now now, Saitou-kun, remember what happened just a while ago, what with the fighting and the yelling and the solitary confinement. Come on, into the training hall, we can sort it out there."

Saitou glared at the other three, not taking his hand off the hilt of his sword, but he followed after Nagakura who called for Okita and Harada to come too. Okita went after them towards the hall, calling out how he was a master of the Drunken Fist style of fighting. Harada grumbled to himself, "it's only dirty laundry", and went to grab his spear.

It turned out to be a 'training session' in only the loosest sense of the word, when they were explaining themselves to Hijikata why they had substituted discipline for disorder and routines for improvisation, and protective gear for fists full of other people's hair and the polite exchanges of a match for the vulgar profanities of the docks.

It was a pleasantly warm night for March, Tokio thought as she folded some clothes away for storage. A light breeze entered through the open door, and in the pond, a fish jumped. She needed to pack light for the journey to Edo, and she had already a sizeable amount of gear with all the gifts for her family. New kimonos for her mother, sister and brother. Trinkets and toys for her younger siblings. Books for her brother's studies. Combs for her sister. As much as she would miss Kyoto, she would be comforted by her family. After all, the last time she had said farewell to them, she had not thought that she would see them again – her marriage into the Saigou family would have practically cut her ties to the Takagi name. Such is the fate of women, to have their identities bound by the men in their lives.

She wondered what Saitou was doing at that moment. Perhaps training, or drinking. What else might he be up to on such a night? She didn't know, and as she put together the pieces of her luggage, she thought wistfully about how much she did not know about Saitou Hajime's life. She wondered whether he might be thinking of her too, and she smiled to herself that it was not unthinkable that he was. In less than two weeks, she would be leaving, and she had no inkling as to when she would see him again. That thought alone filled her with the urge to run out of the compound, to run to Mibu, to go and see what he was doing. Would he miss her? Perhaps, in his own strange way. He knew that she would miss him fiercely. 'But no more last words,' she thought resolutely.

Her bow, she would take. "It's not the most practical weapon," Saitou's comment replayed in her mind. That may be, but it was the one she felt most comfortable with – and anyway, she would have little need to worry about self-defence in Edo. Those fears as well, they would stay in Kyoto. In Edo, it was merely a matter of politics, whereas in Kyoto, those mere politics were a matter of life or death.

A heavy wooden box at the back of her room caught her eye, and she turned to look at it, pursing her lips. After a moment's contemplation, she opened it and unfastened the ties of the paper guard, carefully unwrapping the top. She ran her hand over the smooth white silk revealed, relishing the texture, but a little regretful too – this was her wedding kimono, which she would now never wear. It had been decided from the moment she had pledged her heart to Saitou Hajime. He could not be with her, so she would never be a wife. This too would remain in Kyoto. "Do not marry, Tokio," his voice echoed in her memory.

"I will not marry, Hajime." She murmured softly to herself.

Her hands rested for a moment, and then lifted the thick garment from its case. With a sharp fling of her arms, thick billows of shining white hemmed with crimson cascaded over the floor. She buried her hands in the fabric and stroked it against her cheek, before swiftly untying her obi. Slipping out of her cotton yukata, she pulled the silk garment over her bare skin, luxuriating in its feel, knowing that she really should not and that it would take an age to fold again and put away. Her arms slid through the sleeves, and the cloth swept around her body, she held it wrapped around her waist, and lay down on the floor. As she looked up at the pale moon, her black tresses falling in patterns around her, she knew that she could not marry, but still she could dream.

7th March, Koumyouji –

"Tokio, there you are, come with me." Takagi Kojuurou sounded in a good mood, and Tokio tilted her head in question. "I have a surprise for you."

As she followed her father out to the courtyard, she saw a group of Shinsengumi, among them Saitou, Okita and Toudou. 'Surely he does not mean them?' Tokio furrowed her brow for an instant, but then smiled at the men. Okita waved at her, but it was Saitou's gaze she held. Her heart danced as she fancied she saw a hidden smile in Saitou's eyes.

"No, not them," Kojuurou said sternly, as though reading her mind. "Over here."

He led her to another section of the courtyard, where men were unloading pack horses and milling around greeting each other. Someone had just arrived, it appeared, but she couldn't see anyone she recognised. Just then, two hands covered her eyes, and a familiar voice asked,

"Guess who?"

Her face lit up as she took the hands away from her eyes, exclaiming out loud,

"Taizou? Is that you?" She laughed as she turned around and faced her childhood friend. "Taizou! What are you doing here? It's been an age! Are you still growing? You seem taller than I remember." She was positively beaming.

"I've grown since the last time we saw each other, and how many times do I have to tell you, the name is Ookura, you can't keep calling me Taizou."

Yamakawa Ookura looked down at Tokio, slapped her playfully on the shoulder and then looked over at Kojuurou. They greeted each other heartily, while Tokio began to order the unpacking of Yamakawa's cases. The Yamakawa family was one of the more famous families of Aizu, and were close friends of the Takagi family. The eldest son, Ookura, was widely touted as a rising star of the region, if a bit of a rogue – and he and Tokio had been each other's first playmates. That had been a long time ago, she reflected, and she had not seen him for over two years now.

As she was smiling indulgently at her friend's antics (he was cracking jokes at the expense of her father's expanding waistline), she noticed Saitou looking her way, frowning hard. Her smile wavered as he kept glaring, and she lowered her gaze abashed. Yamakawa came back to her, and grinned.

"Hey, your father tells me that's the Shinsengumi over there. I've heard about them, they sound like they've been keeping busy with all the Ishin-Shishi."

"... They are some of the captains of the Shinsengumi. And yes, they've been doing a good job."

"I hear that they saved your life."

"They have." It was such a simple statement for so huge a thing as they had done for her.

"Will you introduce us?"

Tokio gave a small start, and glanced at her father. Kojuurou was already heading back inside, so she nodded at her friend. Her father might have disapproved, but after all, it wasn't forbidden, and she knew them well enough.

As she walked over with Yamakawa to the Shinsengumi, she could see that they were preparing carts and barrows for transportation. Okita waved as she approached, and called out,

"Tokio-san, it's so nice to see you!"

Yamakawa looked bemusedly at Tokio.

"My, you seem popular. You've obviously pulled the wool over their eyes, otherwise they'd know like me to dread your company."

Tokio narrowed her eyes at him, but she proceeded to introduce him to the other men.

"Okita-sama, may I introduce to you Yamakawa Ookura, an old family friend and assistant to Matsudaira-kou."

"Pleased to meet you, Okita-san. I must say, I'm honoured to be meeting such a famous swordsman." Yamakawa bowed to the group.

"Please, no flattery," Okita laughed a little self-consciously. "And the pleasure is mine. These two here are my colleagues, Saitou Hajime, Captain of the Third Unit, and Toudou Heisuke, Captain of the Eight Unit. And some of our troops." The men bowed in unison. Was it just her imagination, or did Saitou appear more hostile than usual, Tokio wondered.

"I'm here to take over Takagi-san's work in Kyoto for a while, so I'm glad to have made your acquaintance sooner rather than later." Yamakawa said with a pleasant smile. This made sense, Tokio thought, as she realised why he had come to Kyoto. "And I know that Sada-chan here owes you a lot, so as her friend, I'd like to thank you for looking after her."

"Sada-chan?" Okita blinked rapidly a few times, perplexed.

"Taizou, I'm not Sada anymore, I haven't been for years." Tokio protested at the use of her childhood name.

"Taizou?" Okita seemed even more confused, but as Tokio and Yamakawa glowered at each other, neither seemed inclined to explain that it was a misreading of the characters for Ookura, which Tokio had stubbornly used to annoy him when they were younger.

"I did not expect to be seeing the Shinsengumi here today." Tokio turned her attention back to the Shinsengumi, uncomfortably aware that Saitou did seem to be annoyed at her.

"Well we're here to borrow these carts and such, in order to move our stuff to the new headquarters, you see." Toudou explained.

"I hope everything goes well for you at Nishi-Honganji." Tokio said gently, but inwardly she was dismayed that Saitou would not meet her eye.

Just then, Yamakawa was called away, and hastily withdrew, making assurances that he would call upon them at their new base soon. Tokio hesitated to follow, though she knew she should, but she was reluctant to leave just yet. Okita, sensing her mood, chuckled slyly and said,

"Well, now that you're here, Saitou-san certainly feels it was worth coming with us."

"Ahou." Saitou scowled, not stopping the movement of his hands as he harnessed a horse to the cart, a bit more forcefully than necessary. The horse whinnied in protest as the poles slapped on its flanks.

"Because you know, Saitou will use any excuse to come to Koumyouji so long as you're here." Okita smirked mischievously at Tokio, and she blushed.

"Okita!" Saitou growled at him from across the back of the horse, and threw a pair of reins at him. "We don't have all day for you to sit around and chat like a girl." He walked around to her as Okita sighed, grumbled and went to finish his task. "And as for you, shouldn't you be inside, looking after your friend instead of distracting the easily distracted?" He looked down at her fiercely.

"...Will I see you soon?" She asked in a near whisper.

"... Aah."

He would see her on his next day off, of course, and by that time, he expected that his unexpected jealousy at her old acquaintance would have dissipated. She seemed reassured by his answer, and nodded before turning to go. As she left, saying her farewells to the others, she glanced back at him once, a look and smile that was reserved just for him, and he felt uncommonly aggravated, that she had once been called 'Sada', and that he had not known this. It was a troublesome feeling for such a rational man as he. He watched her as she walked back inside after Yamakawa; Yamakawa so naturally at ease with her and she with him. Despite the fact that there was nothing 'wrong' about that, it still burned him in parts of his mind that he rarely acknowledged existed. He narrowed his eyes as an unbidden image played before him, of Tokio, younger and in the past, unknowable, unattached to him and unattainable...

"Saitou-san," Toudou's voice cut in and directed his attention back to the present, "we're all set to go now, but if you'd rather keep staring into that horse's eyes..."

The Eighth Captain sounded amused at Saitou's expense, but Saitou was galled to realise that he had in fact been eyeballing the horse while thinking of Tokio. The horse, on the other hand, stamped its hoof victoriously, aware on its own animalistic level that it had just out stared a wolf.

9th March 1865, Koumyouji –

"My lady, this arrived for you a few moments ago." O-Kiku found Tokio sitting on the engawa, watching a cat stalk a sparrow in the garden. She held out a note. Tokio lifted her chin from her hand.

"From who?"

"He just said it was from Mibu, and asked that I be discreet."

The cat pounced, the bird flew up in the nick of time and chirped indignantly from the roof, and Tokio took the note. She smiled impishly at the way O-Kiku sniffed. O-Kiku had been a bit more understanding of her dealings with the Shinsengumi ever since her abduction, but that wasn't to say that she approved of her associating with them either.

"O-Kiku, please don't tell anyone about this, you know how it is."

"Hmph. As if it would make any difference – you never listen to what you don't want to hear." The maid said tersely. "Just don't blame me when it all goes pear shaped. And please don't compromise yourself or I would die of shame."

"O-Kiku!"

"I'm just saying, it's not unheard of." With that, the older woman left, leaving a blushing Tokio behind.

Tokio shook her head, and then turned her attention back to the note. As she opened it and read, an irrepressible smile played on her lips.

"Meet me at 10 o'clock, at the usual place. Saitou"

At first, the side gate came to her mind, but overleaf, a crude sketch of the river indicated the bank. 'He must have changed his day off,' she thought to herself, and she felt her mood soar at the thought that Saitou had asked her to meet him, putting at ease her worries about his bad mood of the previous day. A voice in the back of her mind chided her for allowing the slightest gesture from him affect her so, but she ignored it for the simple happy thought that yes, it was true that he wanted to spend time with her too.

Late evening –

Yamazaki Susumu shivered as a gust of wind threatened to carry away his straw blanket. It was his only protection against the elements as he watched people coming to and from the inn. The warm weather of the previous week had given way to a chilly spell, and he grumbled to himself about how Hijikata really expected too much from him sitting outside in the cold. (His gut instinct told him that he'd gain very little information tonight from his stake-out, but one simply did not complain to Hijikata about the task at hand. At best, it would get you a double shift, and at worst, it could result in seppuku.)

He blew into his hands, trying to breathe some warmth back into his chilled bones. Only another half hour to go on this watch, he told himself, time seeming to drag on as the wind increased.

"You're getting out of moving duties, consider yourself lucky." Hijikata had said to him, as though he was being rewarded. He had half a mind to tell his superior that he'd rather be loading carts and lugging around luggage than sitting on bare dirt pretending to be a beggar, and his agents would agree. He automatically identified the people passing by, they grew less and less as the night progressed.

'Civilian... Civilian and his servant... swordsman,' he watched discreetly as the man walked passed the inn but did not enter. 'Dog, gah, go away, don't you dare lift your leg!' He swatted at the animal, '... monk; actually Takagi Tokio pretending to be a monk...' It took him all of two seconds for him to grasp, but from his position on the ground, he could see her face, try as she might to hide it under her hat. He almost called out but stopped himself just in time: he could not afford to blow his cover, and he was not sure he should blow hers either.

He knew that Saitou was not meeting her tonight – in fact, Saitou had stopped by about an hour ago, and under guise of handing him a few coins, told him that the packing was almost complete for the move tomorrow, and that he was going to get something decent to eat, seeing as no food had been left in the Mibu compound. No, Saitou had had no intention of meeting her that night – and he could think of no other reason why Takagi Tokio might be out at night. Quickly, he gave a signal calling one of his agents towards him. Another beggar-like figure shambled over from a patch of darkness.

"Find Saitou, and tell him that Takagi Tokio is headed to the river. He'll know what it means." Yamazaki instructed him in a hushed voice.

"Yes sir. Captain Saitou is at Mibu?" The agent asked quietly.

"... Actually, he's probably at the soba place."

Nothing in this world was perfect, Saitou reflected, but good soba came pretty close. Reluctantly, he put down his now empty second bowl, and remained looking at it for a moment as though willing more noodles to appear. He was in no rush to return to the compound. Tomorrow, there would be the mayhem of the move, and if he went back to Mibu now, he would have to endure the antics of his colleagues as they bid a boisterous farewell to the Yagi estate, or would be coerced into loading another haul of junk that he failed to see the need for in the new headquarters. No, tonight he relished this rare moment of peace, of solitude, and the satisfaction of a good meal. He ordered a flask of sake, and Saitou felt at ease – even men of his vocation and demeanour were allowed some simple joys in life. However, the night was not content to allow Saitou a respite, and so it was that much to his displeasure, Yamazaki's agent interrupted his quiet evening, and with wrath that he reacted when he heard the message; and the restaurateur was distressed when Saitou flew out the door without settling his bill, and as Yamazaki's agent reluctantly paid in his stead, he wondered glumly whether he would ever work up the courage to ask Saitou for his money back.

She had assumed that Saitou had not met her outside the compound because there were so many guards around these days. She had assumed that was why he had indicated the river. She had assumed that he would join her along the way. When he failed to do so, she had assumed that he would be waiting for her at the river. And now, as she saw that he was not waiting, she was beginning to think that she had assumed far too much. A wave of unease washed over her, and she berated herself for being so reckless, for letting her excitement cloud her sense of caution. How many times had she been told that she should not be out alone, especially at night? She was just about to turn back, wary of a man approaching in her direction. She hesitated barely long enough to wonder whether he was a messenger from Saitou and to decide that he was not. She drew her hat down lower, and started to walk.

And then, as though she were watching it happen to someone else, she saw her staff being knocked from her hands, and she realised that the man had caught both her hands and was twisting her arms behind her back. She heard a gasp and a cry of pain, and was surprised that it was coming from her. As she stumbled backwards, she knew that she was reacting far too slowly - but the sudden, sheer shock of the situation had drained the strength from her limbs. Into her ear, he was murmuring in a low voice, as though his words were a lover's sentiments: sweet promises, secrets between the two of them. The sound of her heart beating began to drown out her other senses. He was laughing now, a low rumble, and while she tried to struggle, she discovered to her horror that she had lost her voice in fright. All that she could force from her throat were a few hoarse cries. A detached voice in her mind told her that she would die, and that she deserved it for being so foolish. The horrible feeling that fear had locked her out of her own body, and she could no longer control it.

His grip tightened around her wrists as he pushed her from behind, and her figure doubled over. She choked as she felt a crushing force around her throat. Even as she thrashed weakly against his hold, a part of her registered some of what he was saying.

"Should have killed you there and then... Shinsengumi... Comrades are dead... Symbolic gesture... pretty girl... peace of mind..."

The sound of her choking died quietly in the night air, and the hand around her throat was wringing the life out of her, and as she passed into light-headed darkness, she thought how odd it was that she could see red and steel. With a powerful pull, she felt her mind rushing back, felt it reconnect with the physical and the personal, no longer outside watching but feeling from within, a flash of recognition as she saw amber eyes. And then she collapsed.

There were few things more satisfying than things going according to plan, Yoshio reaffirmed. He twisted her arms a bit tighter, and she stumbled backwards towards him.

"Lady Takagi Tokio, how nice it is to see you again." Her wrists, he noted, were slim enough to grasp in one of his hands, and doing so, he also pushed forward to cause her to buckle over. "Of course you might not remember me personally, but we had the pleasure of your company at Fushimi a while back." It almost looked like she was bowing, and he laughed. His free hand gripped her throat from the underside and she gave a weak gasp. 'Such a pretty throat and jawline,' he mused. Her life for eleven men, her breath for their blood. Yoshio grinned as he tightened his stranglehold of her neck, his knuckles cracking under the exerted pressure.

"It was unfortunate how things transpired, we should have killed you there and then really, but we failed to anticipate that the Shinsengumi would come after you." She was too weak to struggle effectively against him. "And because of that my comrades are dead." Kataki-uchi: her death would restore their honour. "And your death will prove a very symbolic gesture you see, that Aizu couldn't even protect one girl, the sweet Flower of Aizu, and I'm telling you, it will be sensational." He could see how quickly he had bruised her slim neck. Her hair coming undone against his arm was very soft, he noticed. She would make a very beautiful corpse, which is why he had decided not to use his sword. "You're not really so important anymore since Saigou cancelled the wedding, but people always pay attention to pretty girls, and this is also important for my own peace of mind, you must understand."

Yoshio lifted her head slightly, and was satisfied as he saw her eyes begin to roll back into her head. He was about to break her neck with one final, hard snap when he heard the sharp ring of steel being swiftly drawn. In the next instant, cold metal cleaved through his flesh, his left arm was shredded lengthways in two. As his body stumbled backwards, then tumbled onto his knees, he saw the snarling face of his attacker. He felt a shattering pain explode in his right shoulder as the sword punched through.

There was no point in him wondering how it was that Saitou Hajime had found them. That he had found them was all that mattered. Yoshio did not believe in protracted rivalries, in arch-nemeses and such: on the bloody field of battle, one rarely met the same opponent twice, it was either kill or be killed, and those who lost were merely plot points in the victor's story. He had not figured on becoming a plot point. Fate, he thought, had a wicked sense of humour – that this had all come to naught despite his planning, and he had once again been foiled by the Shinsengumi. He almost felt like laughing. And this is how the world ends, he thought philosophically, not with a bang, but with a whimper escaping involuntarily from his lips as the terrible, gaunt figure positioned the tip of his sword against his throat.

"Are you the one called Inoshishi?" The harsh voice demanded.

Even faced with certain death, Yoshio could afford to be surprised – his code name, there must be a mole leaking information to the Ishin-Shishi's enemies. The flicker of recognition was enough for Saitou – and as Tokio came to, she opened her eyes to the silhouette of a man impaled through the neck on the sword of the tall shadow.

Saitou's first instinct after dispatching her would-be killer was to pull Tokio towards him. She felt the breath being forced out of her body again as his arms wound tightly around her. He could hear her jagged breathing as she struggled to catch her breath, and he breathed deeply, slowly, as though he was willing air into her lungs. After a few moments, the fear started to give way to tremendous relief, and they both relaxed visibly. It was not long, however, before that relief was infused with anger, and that anger chilled him to the bone. At the back of his mind, a part of him reasoned that he should not be angry at her, that the one responsible was already dead. But it was for her that he felt this overwhelming concern, and so it was true that she also bore responsibility for his state of mind. She must also bear responsibility for what had almost transpired.

How could one adequately describe that particular feeling of anger, the one that made him want to strike the very person that he would readily forfeit his life to protect? Saitou had sheathed his sword as though consciously sealing away his fury, but such strong emotions would break through even an iron-clad will. Tokio had felt the change in him, how the safety of his embrace had suddenly turned to a suffocating stiffness. Her heart wrenched sickeningly as she understood the conflicting emotions inside of him, and she pushed away from him even as he fought the urge to shake her, to rage at her for her foolishness.

"Hajime-sama," she whispered after a while, her voice laden with apprehension, "I am sorry." She was feeling nearly too weak to stand.

"... What the hell were you thinking?" She thought that she would have preferred it if he had yelled at her, this low growl was so much more explosive and menacing.

"I am so sorry." She crouched down on the ground, put her head on her knees, weighed down by remorse and regret.

"What the hell were you doing?" The question was considerably louder now. "What senseless, idiotic idea possessed you tonight?"

"... I am sorry."

"It was almost too late to be simply sorry, Tokio. They say that the only cure for stupidity is death, but I had assumed that you knew better." He sounded so, so bitter and cold, and she did not move. Or rather, she could not move: she felt paralysed as the events replayed in her mind.

Saitou crouched down and roughly pushed her head up off her knees to look at him. The tears rose to her eyes, and because she did not want him to see, she closed them tight. In a thin voice, she managed to tell him,

"This came for me today." She pulled out the note from her robes.

Saitou took the note, and let go of her head. It slumped back onto her knees and Tokio did not make a sound. As Saitou read it, a surge of dread swept over him. He stood up rapidly as though to shake the feeling.

"I didn't write this note for you." He said curtly by way of explanation. "This was for Okita. And I didn't draw this." He flicked the back of the note. She did not respond. "And this, this is what you would have gotten yourself killed for? Are you a fool?" He snarled.

Her body gave a shudder, then stilled again, and she looked up at him. Despite that she had been deceived, that she had made a grave mistake, that her feelings for him had been used as bait in a trap, there was no diminishing that absolute trust that she held in him. This fact thrust nightmarish scenarios into Saitou's mind, that this might happen again, for the same reason.

"And if you're going to let something as trivial as this impair your judgement, you are a fool, Tokio, and I have no time for fools." He would have to press the urgency of the fact that he would not allow for her to be taking such risks, that he would rather not see her at all in that case. "After all that you've seen in Kyoto, after all that I've shown you, that you would still be as careless as to be tricked by such a cheap ploy!"

The thought infuriated him. This would not happen again, he could not allow it to happen again. She would have to learn.

"Hajime-sama, I am sorry, I am so sorry." Her voice was a thin murmur, and she was making an enormous effort to hold herself together. "I knew that it was dangerous, I know that I should have known better, but-"

"But what, Tokio?" His voice cut her off harshly. "You should know better, and I have rarely been so disgusted."

They stayed silent and unmoving for a while, and as Tokio clung to the last vestiges of composure, Saitou fumed over what to say, how to most effectively drive in his point that she must never, ever do anything so rash on his account. 'How could she have been so reckless?' The angry question rose again and again in his mind. Tokio did not dare to look at him. 'How could I have been so foolish?' Distress and remorse threatened to swamp her. Knowing not which words to speak, they were silent.

And while they were still trapped in silence, they heard footsteps approaching, a lantern swinging down the road, and a hesitant voice call out,

"Sada-chan? Is that you?"

Tokio jerked her head up in surprise, and the sight of Yamakawa's familiar face loosened the heartstrings that had been stretched so tightly. Any goodwill that Saitou might have felt for Yamakawa vanished as he watched Tokio start to cry in earnest; in an instant Yamakawa was kneeling next to her.

"Sssshhhh, it's alright, I'm here now." Yamakawa hushed her and gently wiped away her tears as the sobs wracked her body. "It's alright Sada-chan, it's just me." The easy familiarity of that gesture wounded Saitou where no sword ever could.

Yamakawa gave the area another look around – he had seen the dead man at Saitou's feet, he had registered the almost feral wrath of the Shinsengumi captain, but his immediate concern had been Tokio. Now, he took more notice of these things.

"What happened?"

"... I just happened to be passing by." Saitou looked away, and in that moment, he masked all and any emotions the situation evoked in him with a seemingly bored professionalism.

"... Sada-chan?"

Tokio's hands were still held against her eyes, and it took a moment for her to answer.

"I snuck out tonight. That dead man was Ishin-Shishi. He must have known that I was from Aizu, and he decided to kill me. And I have Saitou-sama to thank for my life, again."

"I went to your room tonight, and you weren't there." Yamakawa with his back to Saitou did not see him flinch. "I looked for you in the compound, and then O-Kiku-san told me that you might have gone outside. I've been looking for you for a while." Tokio lowered her head. "O-Kiku-san's going to be furious, not to mention Kojuurou-san. What on earth were you thinking, Sada-chan?" Yamakawa's voice grew stern.

"... I wasn't thinking..." Tokio bit her lip.

"Oh really?" Yamakawa's voice rose as did Saitou's eyebrow.

"I just really, really wanted to get out tonight. I really wanted to, I don't know, I can't explain to you, Taizou, but I'm sorry." Tokio rapidly stood up, almost knocking Yamakawa over. She leaned back against a tree, and closed her eyes. In a desperate whisper, she implored, "Please do not tell Father about this. Please." Yamakawa hesitated to answer. "I know that I've been incredibly foolish. It won't ever happen again, so please..."

"Do you promise?" He looked her in the eye and she nodded. "And not just in Kyoto?" She nodded twice. It could be that she was hiding something from him, but he did not feel inclined to pursue it there and then.

"I promise." Her words were not to her childhood friend however, but to the other man standing behind him.

Yamakawa gave a slow nod, and then turned around to Saitou.

"We'd appreciate it, Saitou-san, if you would be discreet about this."

"I'm sure you would." Saitou glanced at him coolly out of the corner of his eye.

"I take it that's a yes?" Saitou noted that Yamakawa did not appear in the least bit intimidated by the body laying on the ground or the man who had killed him.

"... I have an infinite number of better things to do than to be bothered by the foolish actions of a girl." Saitou indeed could lie convincingly about his most fundamental feelings.

Then with a dismissive snort and a nod of the head, Saitou walked away, slowly, deliberately, and the words that begged to be shouted from Tokio's lips were instead left like barbs in her throat. As Yamakawa walked her back to the compound, he did not suspect her fresh tears had far less to do with her close call with the enemy than the man who had walked away.

14th March 1865, Nishi-Honganji –

"Saitou? What are you doing here?" Yamazaki Susumu's surprised voice cut unpleasantly into Saitou's room.

Saitou half-opened one eye at the unwelcome intrusion into his half-sleep, and answered in a low voice.

"Well, this is my room."

He had not really being napping, but merely resting during one of the first few moments of quiet since the Shinsengumi had arrived at Nishi-Honganji. The move to the new compound had gone relatively smoothly, except for a brief showdown between Hijikata and Itou – each had claimed the room overlooking the garden as his own and neither were the type to give any ground. Hijikata had won, Hijikata always got what he wanted, but it had been quite amusing to see someone who wasn't willing to let him have his way without a fight.

Saitou rolled over, turning his back to Yamazaki. If he ignored him, he might leave. However, Yamazaki was apparently reluctantly to go, hovering at the door, something obviously on his mind. Saitou rolled over again, glaring at him, wordlessly threatening him to leave.

"... I'm surprised to see you here. I would have thought that you'd be over at Koumyouji." Yamazaki said quietly.

"... What business would I have there?"

Yamazaki shook his head.

"Takagi Kojuurou and Tokio are heading back to Edo today. In fact, their party should be leaving at any minute now."

Saitou remained motionless while seconds hung heavily in the air.

"... They were not supposed to be leaving until next week."

"Apparently, their plans changed. They should be starting towards Osaka very soon." Yamazaki shrugged. He remained watching Saitou for a few more moments, until the other's unmoving figure made him look away in discomfort, and he left the room. It was an uneasy feeling, that he had seen a man's innermost struggles, stripped bare and raw, that he knew he should not have witnessed.

Barely a minute had passed when Yamazaki, waiting for Hijikata in another room, heard Saitou's door slide open and shut forcefully, rapid footsteps disappearing down the hall. Things had changed, it seemed, between Takagi Tokio and Saitou Hajime. Yamazaki had not pressed for details since that night, and the only one offered was that an Ishin-shishi had been killed. In the coming weeks and months, Yamazaki would often wonder what exactly had happened – Saitou was still Saitou, but an elemental shift had occurred, which manifested itself in subtle but disturbing ways.

As the procession made its way along the low road, none of the guards heeded the tall, lone figure watching them from a grove of pine trees on a small hill just off the path. People always watched travellers. But under the straw hat, a treacherous fire smouldered in Saitou's eyes. He could see Takagi Kojuurou just behind the company's vanguard, and a small carriage halfway down the convoy. He watched as it moved across his plane of sight.

"Tokio..." he hissed.

She had not sent any word that she was leaving so soon. His hand clutched the hilt of his sword - a familiar, calming gesture. She had not sent any word that she was leaving, and he had assumed that he would have another week or so to reconcile with her. And now, she had taken that chance away from him. He was the one who had wanted to punish her, for her foolish actions, and he had deliberately stayed away from Koumyouji, allowing time for his recriminations to bear down on her. She had in turn punished him in a most hurtful way that he had never considered. He had intended to visit her in a few nights, to resolve the issue, and he had thought it would be all the better if Yamakawa found him there. The satisfaction that should have been was instead replaced by an immobilizing frustration, a sense of betrayal, and the acrid taste of words he had meant to tell her. The last time she had left for Edo, he had had only a small stake in her departure – and this time, he had planned to show her that this was no longer the case. But the future rarely plays out as people would have it, and as he lifted his face towards the high blue sky, the procession made its way steadily along the road out of Kyoto. It was a bitter way to say farewell.

As the city disappeared behind them, and they began on the low stretch out of urban Kyoto, Tokio resolutely shut the screen of her carriage window. She was determined not to look back anymore, she would no longer hope to see even a glimpse of Saitou. He had not come to see her off, and instead of the wracking tears that might have overwhelmed another jilted lover, she was left listless and empty.

"You are a fool, Tokio, and I have no time for fools." The memory echoed in her mind.

He had not forgiven her, or surely he would have come. Perhaps she had sounded too desperate in the note she had sent; perhaps that had turned him against her even more. Every jolt along the road, every turn of the wheel seemed to batter her soul as it took her further away from Kyoto and her hopes.

As O-Kiku sat opposite her mistress, the pain was so tangible that she found it almost unbearable to look at her. She had a selection of aphorisms and platitudes ready for most occasions, but there was no balm for the broken heart but time. And over time, she reflected, women come to know that theirs is not to live and love, but to serve and to wait. Tokio was still young, and as unimaginable as it may be to her lady now, O-Kiku believed that she would recover and thrive – the distance between Edo and Kyoto would aid in the process. Was it not true that what did not kill one only made one stronger?

Satou Bankichi of the ceramic shop in Monzen-cho scratched his head slowly as he read over the letter again. His son, a young man barely into adulthood, knelt in front of him, looking confused and concerned.

"Father, what should we do with it?"

"Well Hajime, obviously the courier is a half-illiterate moron, and this letter is meant for a gentleman called 'Saitou'."

"I know that father, but what should we do?"

The son sighed. He had been utterly taken aback when he saw the letter upon his return from the kilns that morning, from a lady he had never even heard of.

"There's nothing we can do, really. There are no Saitou's in Monzen-cho, and so many in Kyoto, and I don't think it's our business to be asking any of them if they know a lady called Tokio."

The older man coughed self-consciously, as he recalled how sincere the note was, how lovely and sad the unknown girl sounded, and if it was a secret affair (as he had deduced), then it would certainly not be proper for them to start talking about it. Anyhow, she would have left Kyoto by now, it seemed.

"Keep it or throw it away, it's yours now." What a fortunate man this Saitou must be, to be cared about in such a way – what man did not dream of such a romance?

"Keep it?" Satou Hajime blushed deeply to the roots of his hair.

His father handed the letter back to him, and then got up and disappeared into the shop. Some customers had come in, and soon they were looking at the latest wares that Hajime had just brought back.

"Keep it?" The youth mumbled to himself again. He wondered what sort of lady this Tokio might be, and he lapsed into a reverie as he pondered over her words.

'How can I begin to excuse myself, Hajime-sama, for my utterly foolish actions of the other night? Please, I beg your forgiveness, and I ask of you, I will be leaving for Edo the day after tomorrow, and I will be wretched if I must go without seeing you, without knowing that you have forgiven me, that still you care..."

The bells of nearby Nishi-Honganji began to toll, and the sound reverberated loudly in the afternoon. Spring had arrived in Kyoto, the season of lovers and flowers, and Hajime imagined how beautiful this girl must be, and how it was really to him that she wrote, and how he would go to her and reassure her that all was right, and they would go down to the river where the cherry blossoms had just started to bloom, and all would be well in this world.