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The Courtship of Lady Tokio
Disclaimer: all character rights belong to Watsuki Nobuhiro, Shueisha etc. This is a fictionalized account based in part on historical facts.
Chapter 27 – Passages of Time
Late March 1865 – Nishi Honganji – Duplicitous Enough
Although he was the one who had summoned Saitou, Hijikata did not immediately look up when the Third Captain entered the room. Instead, he continued to rifle through the papers in front of him, as if somehow of their own accord, they would rearrange themselves into a neat, organized system. Saitou sat down cross-legged on a cushion, and while Hijikata continued to ignore him, he stretched with languid ease for a sheaf of paper that lay within reach. It elicited a short snort of amusement; it was a rant on the ways in which Itou Kashitarou was, to summarize, a pompous, effeminate, ineffectual intellectual pretender and an insult to Bushidou in general. Hijikata quickly snatched the paper from Saitou’s hand and glared at him. Then, after a brief moment of silent posturing, Hijikata proffered another note. Saitou’s eyes skimmed over the page.
“... You’re sending me to Edo?”
“Recruiting new members is a part of your regular duties as a captain.” Hijikata tipped his head back, giving the impression that he was looking down his nose at Saitou – not an easy feat for a shorter man.
“... With Itou Kashitarou?” Saitou watched Hijikata’s reaction carefully.
The new Shinsengumi Counsel had quickly gained a following among the ranks – the younger members especially looked up to the strong, handsome and learned man, a samurai by birth and a natural leader. “And he doesn’t yell,” was an added bonus as far as they were concerned. Hijikata had not taken to Itou – well bred, well educated, well liked and not feared, in many ways his polar opposite – in the months since his arrival. He resented that Kondou had asked Itou to join the Shinsengumi without consulting him, while Kondou had been in Edo last autumn. ‘Kondou-san is too trusting,’ had been his initial reaction when Itou arrived in Kyoto.
Hijikata shrugged with feigned indifference.
“Itou insists that he go on this trip, because he knows some men willing and worthy to join us. I trust that you’ll be an adequate judge of that.”
To Saitou, the insinuations were clear. Hijikata did not trust Itou, not as far as he could spit. Itou on the other hand made a point to be perfectly polite and politely spiteful towards Hijikata. They had only two things in common; their ability to command and that neither would let pass an opportunity to undermine the other. If Itou was doing the recruiting, without doubt he would recruit men loyal or pliable to Itou’s machinations. As it was already, Itou’s circle had begun to challenge the Shieikan faction for influence. And Hijikata would be damned if he allowed them to usurp the leadership of the Shinsengumi. A cycle of one-upmanship and retaliation was in full swing, and (causing Okita and others to snicker) referred to by Saitou as “the battle of Evil versus Evil”.
“I’ll be going as well, but you’ll be working directly with Itou.” Obviously, Hijikata could hardly act as his own spy.
“Why not assign Okita?” Saitou asked, but he answered the question for himself even as the words were out of his mouth. Of course, Okita was too close to Kondou and Hijikata – Itou’s suspicions would be naturally aroused.
“What’s wrong, Saitou? Itou’s not your type? He told me he thought you were a fine man.” Hijikata’s mouth curled in a devilish sneer as Saitou casually fingered the hilt of his sword.
“Anyway, Souji is unsuited to the task at hand.” Hijikata added as an afterthought.
Okita too could be very trusting.
Another, more closely held reason was the diagnosis of Doctor Matsumoto Ryoujun. A few days ago, Doctor Matsumoto, the renowned physician of Western medicine, had visited the Shinsengumi headquarters at Kondou’s invitation. He had proceeded to conduct medical examinations of every member, and his general diagnosis was that the compound was unhygienic and their personal habits unsanitary, for which he had prescribed a healthy dose of intense spring cleaning. (Besides the enforced sterilisation of their quarters, it remained to be seen whether his visit had had any lasting effect – many members, especially the executive, baulked at the fact that Saitou had been held up as an example to follow in grooming etiquette.) The doctor had spent the longest time conducting Okita’s session. Afterwards, Hijikata and Kondou had pressed him for details, in answer to which he muttered something about patient confidentiality, and his only advice for them was to see that Okita got as much rest as was possible and that particular care be taken to provide a wholesome diet. Hijikata exhaled slowly and shook his head at the recollection.
Saitou handed back the note and recrossed his legs.
“I don’t see why I should bother. You could send Toudou or Nagakura, or even old man Inoue.” He was not at all enthusiastic about the idea of going to Edo. There were people there he would very much rather avoid.
“Toudou is going with us, but he’s out of the question,” Hijikata responded testily, “he was the one who introduced Itou to Kondou-san in the first place. And Nagakura’s too honest, he’s not duplicitous enough.”
“... Duplicitous?” A note of genuine humour entered Saitou’s voice. “And I assume you mean that I am. Coming from the ‘Demon Vice-Commander’, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“Saitou, you’re going. That’s an order.” Hijikata scowled and turned back to his papers, a signal that the matter brooked no further argument.
Saitou rose to his feet and with a not quite respectful bow, exited the room.
As his footsteps receded down the corridor, Hijikata let out a short, agitated sigh. In the garden, a cherry tree bloomed with all its might. All across Kyoto, blossoms of pink and white swayed in the breeze as though to mock the horrors of the city with their delicate gaiety. Hijikata watched as a fluttering of petals fell gently to the ground and if his mind had not been elsewhere, he might have been inspired to compose a haiku. His thoughts though were preoccupied by the dark side of Kyoto, not this illusion of peace and beauty. And being as it was, at the end of the day, Hijikata would rather have Saitou on his side than not.
“Tokio, you really shouldn’t sit like that, staring into space with your mouth open. It’s terribly unbecoming.”
Takagi Katsuko reproached her daughter as she entered the room – Tokio’s reaction was to let her mouth hang open even wider at her mother’s scolding. Another woman’s voice declared,
“Which is not necessarily a bad thing, considering how hard we had to work to fend off all those suitors.”
At the entrance of this other person, Tokio snapped to attention and knelt upright.
“Teru Hime-sama! I did not realise you were here, I beg your pardon.” She bowed deeply, and then with a flush of embarrassment she added to her mother, “You could have told me the Princess was visiting.”
Katsuko merely shook her head.
“Please, be at ease. I just had a sudden urge to call on you.” Matsudaira Teru smiled warmly at the younger woman, and Tokio, still a little pink, smiled back.
“But Hime, you should have summoned me, you should not have troubled yourself to come here.” Tokio made a small protest.
“It was no trouble.” The noble woman knelt down, rich brocades of silk fanning out behind her. “It does me good to leave my quarters, away from the overbearing servants.”
“Hime-sama, she is your overbearing servant.” Katsuko pointed out and sat down next to her daughter.
“Oh. Well, yes, I suppose.” Teru Hime reached into her obi and pulled out a fan. “Anyway, Tokio, as I was saying, it’s good for you to be more unappealing. I thoroughly approve.”
“Hime-sama, please do not encourage her. She has refused every potential match we could think of so far.” Tokio wrinkled her nose at her mother’s words, earning her another frown.
“I don’t see why that’s a bad thing. Marriage will do terrible things to a woman – it will never live up to one’s expectations, and disappointment is very damaging to one’s complexion. This, above all, should be avoided at any cost.” Teru Hime opened and shut her fan, as though to emphasize her words.
“Hime-sama is biased of course.” Katsuko commented with a raised eyebrow.
“But of course. My former husband was about as dull and as unremarkable a specimen of man that ever lived. What was it that I used to say about him?”
“That he was an affront to the eyes and an insult to your intellect.” Tokio offered.
“Ah yes, that was it.” She exhaled sharply and shook her head as though to rid it of the memories. “Thank heavens we separated. Having been forced to lower myself to his level for several years, I am lucky that I am left with all my faculties intact.” She tapped her forehead with the tip of her fan.
“Please, Your Highness, it is not all that bad. Marriage is important. Family is important.” Katsuko looked from Teru Hime to her daughter, and back to Teru Hime.
“Oh Mother, I would give almost anything to never have to deal with another man ever again!” Tokio did not try to disguise the tone of dejection in her voice.
“Tokio, your mother disagrees because she has been fortunate in her marriage and she still has fantastic skin. But I’m simply stating a fact – that more often than not, marriage will spoil a good woman.” Teru Hime leaned forward and fixed her eyes on Tokio. “While unwed, a woman might ruin a thousand men’s lives, but afterwards, it limits her to ruining just her husband’s. It’s terribly restrictive.”
Tokio chuckled appreciatively and Katsuko smiled in spite of herself.
“And the more dense and unremarkable the man is, the bigger his sense of entitlement. Why these men feel that they deserve the brightest, most beautiful women – it just shows their infinite capacity for self-delusion. For the most part, it is a senseless waste of a woman’s life.” Teru Hime pre-emptively cut off Katsuko’s would-be dissent with an imperious flick of the fan. “Tokio, as I have already said to you, since I did train you in all your guiles and artfulness, I expect more for you than to be a mere trophy.” Tokio bowed in acknowledgement, and Teru Hime continued. “I was proud of you, for dissolving that Satsuma engagement. Oh, Katamori, just wait til I get my hands on you!” She gripped her fan tightly as though she wanted to wring it. “To think that against my own feelings, I surrendered your services to my brother, knowing how helpful you would be to him, and then he had the impudence to try to use you to settle some political score.”
“Hime... Please... It is my greatest honour to serve the Matsudaira family, and I am sincerely sorry for all the trouble I caused.” Tokio bowed low, both out of deference and a sense of lingering remorse, and Katsuko sighed.
“Nonsense, it was not your fault. Anyway, that business is in the past. The issue here is to avoid marriage in the future. Every anniversary will age you by a decade. I thoroughly approve of affairs, however – they make one ten years younger.”
“Hime-sama!” Katsuko sounded scandalized, while Tokio laughed.
“Hime, if I were to have an affair now, would that make me nine years old then?”
“Oh. That would not do at all – so I forbid you to have any affairs until you are at least twenty-six years of age.”
“Of course, Hime.” Tokio laughed again at the horrified expression on her mother’s face.
“And remember that when you’ve returned to Aizu. Don’t think we won’t hear about it, that just because neither your parents nor I will be there with you, that we won’t find out about such things.”
“Of course, Hime.” Tokio bowed her head and smiled.
“Hmmm, you do look glad to be leaving us.” Teru Hime frowned slightly.
“Not at all, Hime, I will miss you immensely. It’s just that it has been so long since I’ve been to Aizu, and it will be nice to be home.”
“And to say nothing of the fact that you’ll be escaping all those pesky suitors.”
The smile that remained on Tokio’s lips did not deny it. Katsuko sighed and reached out to straighten Tokio’s collar.
“And are you all packed? When was it that you leave again?” Teru Hime tapped the fan in the palm of her hand.
“We leave in eight days. I am mostly prepared, but Morinosuke is not being cooperative. He refuses to help with his own inventory.”
“Oh really?” Teru Hime’s voice rose in question.
“My brother is reluctant to leave Edo; he does not remember Aizu very well.” Tokio tilted her head and looked at her mother.
“But he will be attending the Nisshinkan. Surely he understands that this is a very prestigious thing.” Teru Hime gave a little incredulous laugh.
“He understands,” Katsuko explained, “but he’s just a little anxious. He will be fine once he gets there and makes some friends.”
“Afraid to go to school? Oh that’s so typical of boys. Tokio, I trust that you’ll take a firm hand with him.”
“But of course. Timidity is contrary to the Takagi family creed. Mother has been too soft on him while I have been away.”
Katsuko clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth but refrained from mentioning that she thought that it was because of Tokio that her son had grown up to be somewhat meek, and Teru Hime bore a lot of responsibility for the way Tokio was.
“Oh, younger brothers – how absurd they can be! Did I ever tell you that Katamori is deathly afraid of spiders?”
The afternoon continued in this vein, with frequent peals of laughter as Teru Hime enumerated the inherent flaws of men, and Katsuko countering that a woman’s strength was that she could love a man in spite of those flaws. When Takagi Kojuurou returned from his duties later in the day, he did not dare to intrude; for a man with any instinct for self-preservation would immediately feel that in Matsudaira Teru’s presence, he was indeed the weaker sex.
Despite the physical similarities, the two men who sat facing each other could not have been more unlike, the maid thought as she set out the tea things. Her master, Yamaguchi Hiroaki, was a gentle and quiet person, a man who put one at ease. His visitor – she had heard it was his brother, and certainly, judging only by the same amber hues of their eyes and the build of their bodies, she did not doubt it – but his visitor, he seemed as likely to eat her as the snacks she had nervously placed in front of him. She hastily retreated from the room to the safety of the kitchen.
Picking up his teacup, an affable smile broke over Hiroaki’s face.
“So, Saitou Hajime, Third Captain of the Shinsengumi. I suppose you have news of my younger brother. Is he still making the lives of those around him as miserable as possible?”
The corner of Saitou’s lips curved a little.
“Surely you don’t think I’ve changed that much?”
“Oh those poor souls. I must remember to pray for them.” The older man shook his head in pity.
“In most cases, they deserve to be made miserable, and the other times, it’s worth it for my own amusement.” Saitou picked up his tea.
“Of course it is.” Hiroaki gave a little snort – he had no doubt that his brother was very good at amusing himself. “Saitou Hajime... I would never have imagined it. It’s good to see you though. It’s been too long.”
“Well, I did have my reasons for staying away.”
“Ah.” Hiroaki shook his head. “But that unfortunate incident has been laid to rest, thanks to Father’s efforts.” He could only assume that his sibling was referring to the first man he had ever slain. “And you, I seem to recall, maybe it was in your teens but you were always a little slow, you learnt to write at some stage. A practice, perhaps, that you might want to keep up every now and again – even Mother talks about you as though you were dead. And Hisa’s children don’t even remember that they have another, much more unpleasant uncle.”
“For all practical purposes, they don’t. The Yamaguchi name is no longer mine.”
“You are still my brother despite your name. A thorn, by any other name, will still stick in one’s side.” Hiroaki raised his hand to his brow in mock despair.
“And I do seem to recall that I started learning my letters at the same time as you, and was by far the quicker student.” Saitou said tauntingly. “Although, given the quality of the competition, it’s probably not much of a boast.”
“As disrespectful as ever of my position as the eldest, I see.” Hiroaki did not seem really annoyed, but chuckled instead. There was a closeness to the to and fro exchange that was reassuring to them both. “But you do seem a lot older now than when you left.” Hiroaki studied his brother’s face closely and did not flinch as the man now known as Saitou Hajime glared at him for the indiscretion. “I’ve been hearing about the Shinsengumi, keeping an ear out for news of your exploits. About how you’re now officially in the employ of Aizu, about Choushuu and the Ishin-Shishi, and of course I was most interested in the Ikeda-ya affair and Kinmon-no-Hen. I see that they’ve left their mark.”
Saitou did not respond though; he made no say that for all the sword-clashing and blood-letting, his thoughts perhaps were more comfortable there, where the dead men lay, than lingering upon the debris of an altogether different conflict.Hiroaki waited a while, and then added,
“But all these stories I’ve heard, I’d rather hear about them from you. So, tell me everything, from Kyoto and your work to why you’re in Edo now.”
And with a little prompting, Saitou began to talk about his time in Kyoto, his triumphs, his frustrations, his comrades and enemies, of the Shinsengumi. The conversation flowed as it could only between those who knew each others’ follies and flaws. Hiroaki affirmed that indeed, his brother was one who was feared as Miburo, but in the intimate light that he knew him, could not possibly be intimidated. Instead, he kept interrupting Saitou to ruffle feathers unused to ruffling. Most enjoyable was the sight of his sibling’s unsuccessful attempt to prevent his tea from escaping his nostrils after he’d slipped in his enquiry about the impact upon the Kyoto soba industry of the half dozen or so mini-Hajime’s that were no doubt running about the place. After the vehement (almost murderous) denial, he could not resist the temptation to strike from this other angle.
“No children? What’s the matter, too much starch in your fundoshi?”
Being as it was (he could hardly draw his sword against his older brother), Saitou at that moment counted it as a blessing that he now lived in Kyoto, and that he would be headed back there in a fortnight.
Yet, for all the fraternal familiarity, Saitou did not tell Hiroaki of everything that had left him scarred – for there were some scars too private to show, even for the bonds of blood.
“Saitou-kun, I’m headed to the baths. Care to join me?”
Saitou looked up and saw Itou Kashitarou standing in the frame of the doorway. He shook his head and replied,
“I’ll bathe later, after I finish.” He refocused his attention on examining his blade, a meticulous routine that he never ceased to tire of.
“Bathe later, on your own? What’s wrong, Saitou-kun, some things you’d rather keep sheathed? It’s a shame, I’d heard such promising tales...” Itou laughed as Saitou’s hand almost slipped on the hilt. “No, I only jest. I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all.”
Saitou nodded curtly but gave no answer. An enigmatic smile appeared on Itou’s perfectly symmetrical lips. A servant girl hurrying down the corridor blushed as she passed him. Her cheeks flushed brighter when she looked back over her shoulder as she turned the corner, and saw that he glanced at her also. The smile still in place, Itou turned back to observe Saitou for another moment, before speaking again.
“I just wanted to ask how your mission went.”
“My mission?” Saitou did not look up.
“But of course, your mission.” There was a teasing tone to Itou’s voice that caused the skin on the back of Saitou’s neck to prickle, though no flicker of emotion showed on his face.
After a few seconds to think, Saitou stated,
“... I think the recruits this time are better than most.” The recruits were better than most, and just as Hijikata had predicted, many of them were loyal to Itou. “Though, it remains to be seen how they fare with steel in their hand instead of bamboo or wood.” On the streets of Kyoto, the rules of a dojo match mattered not but only that one could kill before being killed.
“Ah, yes, the recruits. Actually, I’m perfectly confident in my selection of the new members – not that I don’t value your opinion. But I was referring rather to your other mission.” Itou paused for effect. “Hijikata-san did bring you to Edo for a reason, after all, did he not?”
Saitou did not look at Itou directly, but instead fixed his eyes on the reflection in his sword. Itou was no fool, that much Saitou acknowledged, and it stood to reason that the Shinsengumi Counsel might have guessed as to why Saitou had been assigned to the trip. Itou stepped from the hallway into the room, and knelt down a couple of feet away from Saitou. Saitou exhaled slowly. But if indeed he knew, Itou seemed more like the sort to use Hijikata’s own game against him, not to seek open confrontation.
“Get to the point.”
Saitou’s brusque remark prompted Itou’s smile to widen.
“Ah yes, the point. Well you see, Hijikata-san explained everything to me. He asked for indulgence on your behalf.”
“... He did?” Saitou frowned, wondering exactly what indulgence had Hijikata explained to Itou.
“Why, he told me all about Lady Takagi Tokio, and how you were pining for her.”
This time, Saitou’s hand really did slip and he nicked his thumb on the blade. He turned around to glare at Itou who looked thoroughly delighted with himself. With quite an exercise of will, Saitou regained his composure enough to resist the temptation to swing his sword and cleave that self-satisfied smirk in two.
“Aha, so I see that he spoke the truth.” Itou followed up, laughing a little. “He explained that ever since she had departed for Edo, you had grown quite difficult. I must say, I did notice myself that you seemed out of sorts, though it’s hard to tell with you. He told me that you had not parted on good terms.” Saitou’s nostrils flared but he made no answer. “I think it was quite considerate of Hijikata-san really, that he arranged for you to come to Edo on the pretext of a recruitment drive, so that you could reconcile with her - he doesn’t strike one as a man of, shall we say, compassion. So, how did it go?”
Saitou almost expected his ears to start bleeding. Some part of his brain registered a kind of respect for Hijikata – that he had cunningly hidden his own motives for assigning Saitou to the trip in Saitou’s own torment. He unclenched his jaw and squeezed the cut on his thumb – it was barely deeper than a papercut and the only thing it hurt was his sense of self-possession.
If truth be told, Hijikata had told Itou that Saitou had demanded the assignment himself. He had seemed to take a perverse satisfaction in offering to Itou the personal details of a private man. Itou had been quite entertained by the explanation, while thinking at the same time that Hijikata was taking a foolish step – in his opinion, the Vice Commander risked alienating a worthwhile ally for the sake of a cheap laugh. In fact, Itou was gambling on the likelihood that Saitou would resent Hijikata for divulging such information. ‘The enemy of my enemy’, the saying went, and Saitou made for a formidable foe.
For his part, Saitou had almost succeeded in putting Tokio out of his mind. He had concentrated on observing Itou and profiling the new recruits. He had enjoyed himself at his old haunts – the izaka-ya where he had been a regular, the best soba stall in the whole Kanto region. With Hijikata, he had also visited the Shieikan Dojo in Tama with messages from Kondou to his family, Okita to his sister and her family, and leaving with a memento for Hijikata from an ex-lover (a sharp slap to the face that left a sting, and an imperative “Go to hell!”). There had been moments of simple familial content when his father had welcomed him into the house, not as a prodigal son but as a samurai in his own right, and his mother had insisted on washing his uniform.
He had almost succeeded in putting Tokio out of his mind. If it had not been for the lovers quarrelling on the Edo-bashi, he thought that he might have managed it. It had transpired that with a week to go before the return to Kyoto, he had passed a crowd gathered around a young couple. The girl was desperately pleading with the man who had climbed over the rails of the bridge and poised to jump.
“I swear to you that I didn’t receive your note!” She clung to his arm, trying to pull him over to safety. “I didn’t get it! I would never hurt you like that!”
“Liar!” He shouted at her, his face blotched with tears and redness. “You didn’t receive my note because you were with him, that bastard! I’m going to kill myself! You know I can’t swim! I’ll do it, I swear, you’ll be sorry -” His words ended abruptly as Saitou hauled him up by the hair and shoved him into the arms of the girl, who immediately wrestled him to the ground and started to beat on his chest. The crowd cheered in encouragement. Saitou left the scene without a word and with a few strands of hair stuck to his palm. The shouting continued behind him.
“Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that again, you idiot!” The girl was furious. “Don’t you ever, ever, dare!”
Now, Saitou was beginning to regret that he had not just pushed the man into the Sumida River. For the whole incident had started him thinking, and he should have known better than to begin thinking ‘what if’? What if there had been a message for him? What if it had not been delivered? What if she had been waiting for him? What if there was an explanation? ‘What if’ had forced him to remember, and he had found himself looking for a way to find her, to pose to her these questions that refused to let him be. The only answer that he received was that she was no longer in Edo and that she had returned to Aizu. He heard it from a retainer of the Aizu compound, who mistook him for the retainer of a suitor. He hardened himself once more and thought himself fortunate for the distance, that it prevented him from acting the fool for her again.
“Saitou-kun?” Itou’s voice brought him back to the present. “So, were you able to see her?”
Saitou fixed his attention on an empty space of air. She was gone, and he was heading back to Kyoto, and there was nothing more to it than that.
“... Why would I see her? That affair is long over.”
“Come now, it’s only been a month or so.” Itou’s insistence nettled Saitou’s considerably fraught patience.
“... As I said, it’s long over.” The cold gleam of his eyes caused Itou to pause and reconsider pursuing the topic. Saitou turned his attention back to his sword.
A heavy-laden silence followed, and it was a while before Itou spoke again.
“I apologise, Saitou-kun. I did not mean to offend you. It’s just that what Hijikata-san said...” Saitou gave a short “hah!” of derision. Itou narrowed his eyes. “... Hijikata-san should not have told me.”
“The Vice Commander does a lot of things that he probably shouldn’t.” Saitou lifted his blade level to his eyes, first with his right hand and then with his left.
“... I take it that you’re not always on the best of terms with Hijikata-san.”
This time, Saitou met Itou’s scrutinizing gaze and considered his answer.
“Not always, no.” He paused before adding, “I admit that there are times when I may be ambivalent about his existence.”
What might have been a flash of triumph flared in Itou’s eyes, but just for a second. Itou lowered his head in a half-bow, and then stood up.
“Well I’m going to head to the baths now, I’ll bother you no more for tonight. Though, if you do care to join me, you’re most welcome.”
Saitou nodded in acknowledgement and watched as he left the room. He waited until the footsteps faded away before standing up, as though in a trance, and then thrust his sword once, slicing the air. A candle’s flame wavered. Questions of ‘what if’ fell to the ground, transposed on the two, perfectly mirroring halves of the unfortunate moth that had been drawn to the light. Before he sheathed his sword, he flicked it as though to flick off blood, except it was not blood but the lingering vestiges of doubt and disappointment, and it was not his blade that he deliberatively encased but his soul.
As Itou Kashitarou soaked in the outdoor baths, he looked up at the bright stars of the night sky and mused about how smoothly his plans were falling into place. Slowly, stealthily, he was laying the foundations, and his time would come. And when the time came, he would have Saitou Hajime as a man on his side, of that he would make sure.
Dearest Sato,
It is now the end of May, and hopefully this letter will come to you within a month. Thank you very much for writing to me and I apologise that I did not reply sooner. As it was, your letter was delayed since it had to be forwarded from Edo – after some thought, I decided to return to Aizu and am now at my family estate in Wakamatsu, where I am acting as guardian to my younger brother. He is attending school and though he is as frustrating as all boys his age can be, we are enjoying the relative freedom of the regions, away from the demanding rigours of life in the city. The politics, the society obligations, the disapproving looks of disappointed parents; it can get rather draining.
It was so good to hear from you. I was much moved by your stories; I can only imagine how hard it is to be looking after other people’s children, especially orphans, and I admire you so much for it. You are so gentle and kind, it is not surprising that the children have warmed to you. Though, you work so hard – between the kimono shop and minding the children, I worry that you do not have enough time to rest. With this letter, I am sending a few items which may be of use to you – although I am ashamed to admit that I lack the courage of your charity, if I may be of any assistance to you, please do not hesitate to ask.
Also, I am grateful for your news of the Shinsengumi. Yes, I have heard of Doctor Matsumoto – he is a most famous physician and he has tended to the Shogun himself. I laughed out loud that he set the entire group to spring cleaning – I can imagine them grumbling that it is the sword and not the mop that they should wield. I am relieved to hear that Okita-sama seems to be in good health. I sincerely hope that we were simply being overly-concerned and anyhow, surely we may trust in the doctor’s judgement. I’m sure that Hijikata-sama and Kondou-sensei would not allow Okita-sama to continue if his health was really in jeopardy.
As for Saitou-sama... Thank you for telling me, but hearing that he travelled to Edo, I am almost grateful that I was not there. If I had heard that he was in the same city as me, it would have been unbearable, considering the nature of our parting (or rather, the lack thereof). Still, if he should ever ask, if it would not be too indiscreet or too awkward, please could you tell him that he has my best wishes and that I am sincerely sorry. But only if he should ask.
Enough already about such things; I apologise for rambling on in my usual self-absorbed way. I just pray that you and the children are well and in good spirits. The summer’s rainy season will be upon us soon and travel will be made more difficult, as will the post also. It may be a while before you hear from me again, but please know that you are in my thoughts and in my heart.
Fondly,
Tokio.
Even after he had finished reading the letter, Okita was reluctant to let go until Sato gently took it out of his hand. She folded the pages along their original creases and opened the top drawer of her dressing table. Her face clouded over slightly as her eyes fell on Tokio’s previous letter, from Edo; she had not dwelt on it at length but it was obvious to Sato that the girl suffered much heartache. She set the two letters together and closed the drawer.
“So she has been asking about me.” Okita smiled a little wistfully at Sato. “You really shouldn’t be worried, the both of you. I’m doing much better now – I was just going through a bad bout of colds.”
“You do look a lot better than a few months back,” Sato conceded. “The colour of your cheeks looks healthier. But please don’t begrudge us our concern, Okita-han.”
“Ah you women, you fuss too much.” Her visitor rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, and then turned his eyes towards the cases that Sato had told him had been delivered with the letter. Rolls of cloth of various weaves and colours. Chests of toys and books for learning. Sweets and snacks and some seeds for planting in her garden. “She said she was sending a few items, eh? All of this, all the way from Aizu?”
“They were actually ordered in Kyoto. She’s nothing if not efficient, Tokio-han is.” Sato bowed her head in admiration.
“The children will be spoilt rotten by all this.” There was a hint of childish envy in Okita’s voice as he picked out some spinning tops, colourful ones of green and red swirls.
Sato chuckled.
“Which is why I’m going to have to hide most of this away before they come back. They’ll be impossible if they see all of this at once.”
“You know, I kind of feel strange saying this, but you make a great mother, O-Sato-san.” Okita grinned. “Speaking of which, where are those urchins today?”
“They took advantage of a break in the rains to go out to play. They’re probably down by the shrine with the other children.”
The ‘they’ in question were two orphans whose parents had recently passed in the district. Sato had offered to take care of them until relatives could be located; that had been two months ago but she did not mind when no aunt or uncle came forward to claim guardianship. They had bonded, the widowed and the orphaned, kindred spirits in their loss.
Sato began to close up the boxes and Okita moved to help her to put them into the oshi-ire.
“When you write to her again, could you tell her that I was asking for her?” Okita asked as he pulled out some futons to make room.
“Of course, but will you not write to her yourself?” Sato pushed a heavy box towards him.
“And risk Saitou-san finding out and sending me to deepest hell?” Okita laughed. It was not so much Saitou’s anger that Okita sought to avoid, but a sort of sense of betraying his comrade.
“Oh those two, what are we to do? How is Saitou-han doing these days?”
“Still the same, just varying shades of black moods. He’s working more efficiently than ever though. He claims that the streets of Kyoto have never been safer, but I know the streets have never been more dangerous.”
“... Would you not ask him about Tokio-han’s message? Surely he never received it, otherwise he would have gone to see her, and would not be so troubled by her departure.”
“... I don’t know, O-Sato-san, I don’t think he would even listen at this stage. Besides, meddling might only make him resent the whole thing even more, especially as she’s faraway in Aizu.” Okita reached for another case, and Sato nodded in understanding.
Meddling in other people’s affairs was nearly always ill-advised, especially where it concerned a man such as Saitou Hajime (and Tokio knew it, which was why she had stressed “but only if he should ask”).
“Hey I just remembered, I didn’t tell you about my encounter with Hitokiri Battousai, did I?” Okita said suddenly.
“Hitokiri Battousai?” Sato sounded and looked appalled. “You are lucky to be alive!”
“O-Sato-san, that’s mildly insulting, you know. If you ask me, he’s the one who’s lucky that he got away.” Okita corrected her.
“When was this?” For all the ghastly rumours surrounding the now legendary Ishin-Shishi, or rather because of them, he was an object of fascination.
“A few nights ago. He’s an amazing swordsman – it was the most interesting night I’ve had in a while.” He said this with honest admiration.
“Were you injured? Were you hurt?” Sato peered into his face with concern, as though expecting him to start spurting blood.
“Only a few bruises and scratches, and I did return the favour.” Okita scratched his nose. “My men and I tracked him across three districts, but when Nagakura’s troop showed up, he decided that the odds weren’t in his favour and disappeared.”
“... Is he as terrifying as they say he is?” Sato’s voice quavered slightly. “Does he really have hair like a demon?”
“To look at him, he’s nothing special, except for that red hair and the scar on his cheek...” Okita shrugged his shoulders.
“Well I am so glad that you are unharmed, Okita-han. Please, do take care.” Sato bowed to him.
“Hahaha, not to worry, I am invincible! And I definitely beat him in terms of looks – I am undoubtedly the handsomest swordsman in all of Kyoto!” Sato covered her mouth with her hand and chuckled as Okita struck a pose and grinned. “Say, I’m kind of thirsty now, after moving all those boxes.”
“I’ll go make some tea, shall I?” Sato smiled at him and rose to go to the kitchen.
While she was gone, the dark clouds in the sky opened again, the thick, warm and steady fall of summer rain. Okita looked out at the garden, at the blue and violet hydrangeas glistening with water, an unusually pensive expression gracing his features. ‘Hitokiri Battousai,’ he murmured to himself. The redheaded swordsman was as deadly as ever – the First Unit had lost four men that night. The image of the scar rose to his mind as he thought of the man who wore it. When their swords first met, he would not have used such a word for the Battousai. He was no kind of man, but a demon, so consumed by his mission that he seemed impervious to the reality of the death of those whom he killed, and those the dead left behind. In his apparent indifference to life, he had set the city adrift upon a tide of blood. A tide that seemingly had no ebb. No, no kind of man.
That had been his assessment, and had remained so up until their most recent encounter. Something had been different. Okita reflected on what it takes to kill a man, on what it takes out of a person to take a life. How many had he himself cut down? He recalled what Saitou had said to redden the face of a young recruit who had seemed too eager to redden his sword. “When you cut a man down, you don’t just take away everything he has, you take away everything he’s ever going to have.” Yes, red, and then very quickly white again. One year ago, he had fought a demon of ice and fire, a thing born of the deaths of a hundred men and the forewarning of a hundred more. The steel of his sword gleamed coldly, his eyes were windows onto hell. An involuntary chill passed through Okita, followed by a feeling of relief. For in its place, four nights ago, he had found himself fighting a man. Murmuring to himself, he broke the silence of his reverie.
“Perhaps there is hope for us all...”
With that, a wry smile fought off the lingering memories of the shadow of the Battousai. As for himself, he hardly dared hope, but perhaps Doctor Matsumoto’s medicines were having an effect and he was recovering. ‘I held my own against him, and I didn’t have the urge to even cough.’
His thoughts were interrupted as the children came in out of the wet and Sato set out some snacks with the tea. She made them wash their hands and faces before they sat down and say ‘thank you’ before they started to eat. And as the rain grew heavier, Okita showed them how to work the spinning tops and for the remainder of the afternoon, they played indoors. Sato smiled indulgently as she watched and she couldn’t help but think, how different this was to her former life and how grateful she was that she had people to care for and people that cared for her. It was a peaceful interlude in a city of turmoil.
“This is going to be the longest night we’ve had so far!” Harada yelled above the crackling of the burning buildings.
“Actually, the longest night is the Winter Solstice, so technically you’re wrong!” Okita shouted back as he signalled his men into position. “Hurry up with the water!” He called out with uncharacteristic urgency.
“I don’t know what a winter whatsit is, but it’s definitely going to be the longest night ever!” Harada’s team began to throw bucket after bucket of water over the blaze.
“Quickly! It’s starting to spread to the west!” Okita’s voice rang out.
“Oh hell! Why does everything have to happen all at once!” Harada began to curse heavily as a wind rose, scattering sparks and fanning the flames. “Where are the rains when you need them! It hasn’t rained in two months!”
“Well then, maybe you should do a rain dance, Harada-san!”
A bucket of water drenched Okita on the back of his head.
“How’s that for a rain dance!”
“Harada-san, stop wasting the water!”
There were men in both units who wished at that moment that they had slightly more mature captains.
The trouble had begun for them that night when a messenger from Toudou’s Eighth Unit patrol had arrived at headquarters with a report that an entire family had been murdered by Ishin-shishi, accused of spying against Choushuu. The Eighth Unit were scouring the streets for the perpetrators – justice to be meted out swiftly on the edge of a sword. Upon hearing the news, Kondou immediately dispatched the First, Third and the Tenth Units to increase the security in the city. The Tenth Unit were the first to make contact with the Eighth, who had just tracked down the Ishin-Shishi and were engaging them in battle. However, it soon became apparent that the Ishin-shishi had also called for reinforcements, for later the Eighth Unit crossed paths with Okita and Saitou’s men in battle with more Choushuu roushi. Their captains though were nowhere to be seen – from what Toudou could make out, they were both chasing the Hitokiri Battousai. Toudou, cursing his fellow captains’ sense of responsibility, assumed temporary command of all three units.
It was at that moment that the ground had begun to shake violently. Screams and shouts rose up throughout the capital. Tiles fell from the roofs and clattered to the ground. The earthquake brought people running out of their houses, covering their heads and cowering, and then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. A hush fell over the city as people let out a collective sigh of relief. It had been a big one, and long. Some of the older buildings seemed to sway still and some caved in. Here and there, the sound of collapse rang out eerily, and then the fire bells began to toll. People broke out of their trances and started to shout and run again, the fire-fighting teams to get their gear, others to grab their belongings and flee. The fighting between the Shinsengumi and the Ishin-Shishi had been temporarily suspended but now the scene was thrown into utter chaos as the Ishin-Shishi scattered amongst the townfolk and the Shinsengumi were torn between pursuing them and helping with the fires.
In another district, Okita and Saitou had cornered the man known as Hitokiri Himura Battousai when the earthquake occurred. The redheaded swordsman took advantage of the momentary shock to leap onto and over the roofs, leaving a trail of tiles and dust in his wake. As the shaking subsided, Saitou and Okita followed him but he had already disappeared. They hesitated for a moment and then looked at each other.
“I’ll try this way,” Okita decided as he jumped off the roof they were standing on and moved towards a dark alley. Saitou nodded and replied,
“We’ll see who luck favours tonight.” He crossed onto another roof.
“Happy hunting, Saitou-san.” Okita’s voice called out before he melted into the shadows.
As he made his way over the rooftops, Saitou could hear the clang of the fire bells and the shouts echoing across the city. With a dark expression, he watched the people hurrying to gather what they could and rushing towards the safety of the river. The recent lack of rain meant that everything would be as dry as tinder and the fires would spread quickly. The Shinsengumi would be busy tonight, and he could not afford much more time for just one man.
“I’m right here.” A cold voice broke through his thoughts.
A cool smile appeared on his lips as he turned around, the fires momentarily forgotten as he faced his adversary.
“I thought you’d fled like a coward.” Saitou drew his blade.
“You challenged me two against one, and you call me the coward?” Himura Battousai narrowed his eyes so chillingly. “That’s hardly fair, is it?”
“Nothing about life or death is fair now, is it?” Saitou countered.
Himura’s eyes followed as Saitou shifted his blade to his left hand. He held the sword horizontally and crouched low, a countdown set in motion, as if he was internally winding each muscle, an explosive force compressed into the stance. With a snarl that began somewhere in Hell, he unleashed himself at his opponent, an intensity to destroy all that stood before him, and all that it stood for. Himura had watched Saitou, knowing that a blink could cost him his life, his whole body attuned to Saitou’s timing and his reflexes concentrated on the balls of his feet, springing in a fraction of a second that made all the difference, allowing him to live where so many others had fallen. Saitou had accounted for this; he was not one to underestimate his opponent, least of all this one. His blade followed the evading assassin without missing a beat – but still it was not quick enough. Himura struck out with his sword and leapt out of range.
They paused for a breath. Saitou acknowledged that his foe was faster than he and on this rooftop had the advantage of being lighter in weight. ‘Still, it brooks no excuse,’ he said to himself and prepared to attack again. This time they charged at the same time, and after the initial parry, Saitou found himself jumping to avoid an unexpected move. Himura had suddenly appeared beneath his sphere of attack and tried to catch him with an upward stroke. It was Saitou’s greater height and strength that saved his throat from being slashed open, as he brought his sword down against Himura’s to deflect the attack. They broke off and circled each other once, then stopped and regarded each other.
‘Okita was right, something has changed,’ Saitou noted to himself. It was not his style of fighting, which was as deadly as ever, but more like a chink in his aura. It was his disposition, an impression of caring, about something or everything but certainly about life. He seemed more human – he smelled more human than the emotionless figure he had first encountered. Aloud, Saitou called out in a mocking voice,
“What’s wrong, Battousai, you seem only half the demon you used to be.”
“And you seem more of an animal than ever.” Himura had also been thinking of how Saitou seemed different than he remembered but could not quite fathom why he felt this way. It was not just that masking of emotions that comes as second nature to experienced swordsmen, but as though something had been roughly severed, one less dimension than his memory accounted for.
“As a Miburo, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I assure you that it was not.” Himura’s voice was as serious as his sword.
“... What was that move you tried to pull off?”
“... What was yours?” There was no obligation for him to tell, especially for him to tell first.
“Gatotsu.” Saitou answered without hesitation, though mentally he cursed himself for allowing Okita’s naming to stick.
“... Hitenmitsurugi-Ryu, Ryuushousen.” It was only good manners that he reply.
“Hmph!” Saitou scoffed. “The Rising Dragon, Flying the Heavens? Such a grandiose claim for such a little man.”
“Better than a wolf who can do no more than bare his fangs at the moon.”
And with that, they launched themselves in attack with renewed frenzy.
On the street below, a girl being carried on her father’s back looked up at the rooftops. She tugged her father’s topknot and pointed.
“Look Father! Lightning!”
The man squinted up at the dark night sky. He saw the pale flashes but instead of the rumble of thunder, he heard the clash of steel against steel. ‘With such fiendish spirits fighting overhead, no wonder then that Kyoto seems so cursed tonight!’ He said a prayer to ward off evil as he carried on, his heard filled with the dread of earthquakes, fires and bloodthirsty demons.
The bells now rang out with increased frequency and urgency. As the fires began to rage in earnest around the city, Saitou and Himura drew back and regarded each other. They both knew that there was another enemy to be fought that night but both were reluctant to be the first to withdraw.
“... I don’t have all night to be playing with you.” Saitou shifted his blade in his hands.
“... I won’t stop you from leaving.” Himura pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked towards the river. There he saw the masses of people trying to cross the bridge to the safety of the other side. “The fires seem to be all on this side.”
“If you would just surrender or kill yourself, this could end a lot easier.”
“I could say the same thing for you.” Himura matched the ferocity of Saitou’s glare.
“It would hardly be the same now, would it, because my job is to keep the peace and to protect Kyoto.”
“And my duty is to protect Kyoto from your excesses.” Himura countered just as coolly. “We both have other duties to see to tonight. If I don’t stop you, don’t try to stop me.”
After a moment of silent posturing and contemplation, both seemed to concede that this was the logical course of action. Without another word, Himura jumped down into the street and disappeared swiftly into darkness. Saitou prowled across the rooftops in the direction of the nearest fire, the night sky lit up in orange and heavy with billows of smoke.
It was there that he found Okita and Harada with their troops.
“Oy Saitou! Where in damnation have you been?” The sweat was dripping off Harada’s brow as he threw another bucket of water onto the burning building.
Ignoring Harada, Saitou took a bucket from Okita.
“Did you find him?” Okita asked over the noise. Okita had rejoined his men after he failed to find the Battousai.
“Aah, but unfortunately he lives to fight another day.” Saitou’s voice sounded anything but disappointed despite his words.
“Really? It’s unlike you to leave anyone alive. You must be losing your touch.” Okita sounded delighted, his face glowing in the heat. He coughed as the wind blew ashes and sparks towards them. Saitou glanced at him as he wiped his mouth.
“Okita, go take some men to the river. People are stampeding over the bridge and if someone doesn’t impose some sort of order, there’s going to be more unnecessary deaths.”
“I was here first, why don’t you go?” Okita asked testily.
“Because I’m not inclined to deal with the idiotic masses, whereas you have a natural affinity with them.” Of course, he would not admit to concern for Okita.
Just then, a messenger came running towards them.
“Okita-Kumichou! Hijikata Fukutaichou requests that you and the First Unit relocate to the Sanjou Bridge! His orders are that you are to control the crowds around it, and to oversee the crossing. It’s absolute chaos there at the moment!”
Okita frowned and nodded, and considered punching Saitou for the smug look on his face.
“And Saitou Kumichou! The Third Unit are in the Mihara district, sir! Word was that you were to join them as soon as possible.” Saitou nodded in reply.
“Hey! Saitou, Okita, you leaving here?” Harada shouted at them.
“Hijikata-san’s orders, Harada-san!” Okita motioned for his men to follow.
“Tell Hijikata to go to hell!” Harada bellowed towards his men. “Alright, men! You heard it, we’re going to have to deal with this one ourselves, so double-speed guys, double-speed!”
“Hey, Saitou-san!” Okita called out as Saitou turned to leave. “I heard a man shouting about some sword fight on the rooftops. Why didn’t you do a rain dance while you were up there?”
Saitou gave no indication that he had heard as he left quickly through the narrow streets.
Many called it divine providence that just then, it did begin to rain, for the first time since June. People stopped rioting and started to dance for joy, that the city was saved and all was right with the world again. But then, it did not just rain, it lashed without cease for three days and three nights, a vengeance against the dry season. Thunder clashed and lightning flashed, and after the first night, there were reports of flooding in some wards. And in the Shinsengumi compound where they were held hostage to the deluge, Okita could be heard grumbling about rain dances – when asked what he meant, he only offered obliquely,
“It’s because Saitou-san’s a walking natural disaster.”
My Dearest Daughter,
The weather has just begun to turn here in Edo and I’m sure that it must be cooler in Wakamatsu. I hope that you are looking after yourself and your brother well – have you already brought out the warmer padded jackets? You’ll need them for the evenings.
It was so good to hear from you and I am sorry that I did not make it for the O-Bon Festival due to Tami’s relapse. I know that you did not need my help to tend to the family graves, but your father and I both feel some measure of guilt for neglecting our ancestors this year. Of course, you worry about your baby sister – I think she is showing signs of recovery now but she is still quite weak. Please continue to pray for her.
Your father is as busy as usual and he sends his best to you and Morinosuke. We are so proud of you, of both of you and not a day goes by that we don’t thank the heavens that we were so blessed to have you as our children. Tokio, I am sorry that you felt under such negative pressure from me regarding the suitors. You must trust me when I say that I only have your best interests at heart. I have never regretted marrying your father and wished simply the same joys for you. What else would a mother wish for her children than to be safe and happy? You say that I was a fortunate case and I do not deny it. Kojuurou-san has never treated me but with the utmost respect and consideration. (Though you should remember that your father is fortunate also for I have been an ideal wife, if I may say so myself. Not to mention, I was the most famed beauty in all of Aizu back in the day – how lucky you are that you take after me in looks.) It hurts me at times, that you would so quickly reject what is so important to me: my marriage and my children are my entire reason for living. However, what freedoms that you do have, you at least have the freedom to think as you wish.
What worries me more is this despondency over you that does not seem to have lifted yet. Dear Child, since neither you nor your father has been entirely forthcoming on this matter (except to reassure me that nothing terrible happened), I can only speculate. And I ask, is it not better to have loved and lost than to never know what you are missing? Love grows you – and the proof is that you left for Kyoto a girl and you returned a woman. Do not regret it, do not lament. Distance and Time, they are surely the two greatest cures. Life will never be as you think it should and as unoriginal as it may be to say so, one can only expect the unexpected. You are a child of good fortune, Tokio, and of that I have no doubt. Though there will be times when it seems like the world is against you, I have faith that you will shine through. You must wait and hope, though for what I cannot say. Happiness will find you in the most unusual places and in unsought for forms. Wait and hope.
In the meantime, the management of the estate seems to be keeping you quite busy. I hear that you have been asked to help out at the castle also in the absence of our Lord and Teru Hime. That must bring back some memories; do you remember how I introduced you to the Princess when you were eleven years old and you cried because you were not allowed to brush her hair?
Tell your brother to write more and to write often. I know boys of his age are a handful but do be patient with him. Tell him that your father will be very disappointed if he does not do as his teachers instruct. I miss you both fiercely. Take care of yourselves, and be good.
With Love,
From Mother.
Takagi Morinosuke scratched his head in frustration and then laid down his brush and lowered his chin onto the table.
“This is a stupid assignment.” He announced with glum conviction. “I don’t know why I have to learn about all these ancient Chinese men anyway – we’re Japanese. We only need to know about Japan.”
Tokio did not stop the careful movement of her needle as she stitched thick padding into a garment, but answered in a mild voice,
“Well, if you need to know anything about Japan, it should be that we owe a lot to the Chinese.”
“Like what?” Her brother asked sceptically.
“For starters, kanji are Chinese characters.”
“I hate kanji. There are far too many of them and they’re confusing.” Morinosuke declared with all the authority his eleven year old self could convey.
This time, Tokio did look up and fixed the boy with a reproachful gaze.
“You’ll end up a real dunce if you can’t read or write properly. And I’m sure you don’t want to be a dunce.”
Morinosuke sighed resignedly.
“I guess. But it certainly doesn’t make these Chinese bores we have to study any more interesting.”
“China also brought us tea and Buddhism, for your information.” Tokio stated in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Boringer and boringer.” Morinosuke rolled his eyes. “Why can’t they teach us something interesting, like about the Western barbarians, rather than this Sun Tzu useless old stuff.”
“You’re studying Sun Tzu? ‘The Art of War’?” Tokio frowned and shook her head reprovingly. “Oh you are hopeless, Morinosuke, to call that boring. All samurai should be familiar with that work.”
“And you are a know-it-all.” Her brother wrinkled his nose, unimpressed. “Ane-ue, I want to go out and play soon. I know where there are still some sweet chestnuts left, I could bring some home.”
“Not until you finish your assignment.” Tokio pursed her lips and resumed sewing.
Morinosuke scowled but he did turn to his papers again. The look of concentration on his face however did not last long.
“Agh, I can’t focus! Say, Ane-ue,” Morinosuke turned to Tokio again. “... Ane-ue, why are you sewing? Doesn’t O-Kiku normally look after those chores?”
“I am allowed to prepare a winter jacket for my own brother, or would you rather I didn’t?” She tilted her head in question.
“Is that for me?” Morinosuke eyed the garment suspiciously. “... But Ane-ue, it is much too big...” He reached over and spread out the fabric on Tokio’s lap.
Tokio furrowed her brow as she laid out the garment herself, and then blushed as it dawned on her. It was indeed too big for her younger brother; the measurements were for a man above six feet in height.
“I’m sorry, I did not notice.” Tokio held it up and regarded it with some annoyance and embarrassment.
“You mean it just happened to turn out like this?” Morinosuke sounded a little incredulous.
“I thought a bigger jacket would last longer, because you’re a growing boy. But you’re right,” She sighed. “Even then, this is too big. My mind must have been elsewhere when I cut the cloth.” Fine cloth that it was, deep navy blue, a weave of linen and silk, and only the thickest and warmest padding had been used. “I’ll make another one for you, I’ll have O-Kiku help me so that it will be ready for the first snowfall,” said Tokio in an apologetic voice.
“I don’t mind, but what will you do with this one?”
Tokio did not answer and instead told him to get back to his studies. He did so reluctantly and she left the room with the redundant coat folded over her arm. Looking out onto the garden, she stopped and let out a drawn-out sigh.
Out in the garden, out on the surrounding mountains, the trees still held their autumn glory. The river ran crimson from the maples losing their leaves in its flow. ‘It must be just as beautiful in Kyoto, if not more so,’ she thought as her memory conjured up the vivid colours of Kiyomizu, and she closed her eyes to savour images of the life she used to lead.
In just a few days, the biting winds of winter would strip the forests bare and ready for the snows to dress them. The mountain passes would soon be buried beneath huge drifts and the city would exist in splendid isolation. With no word from the outside world reaching the city for weeks, the people of Wakamatsu invented the news and stories of what events might be going on ‘yonder’. Tokio too, she imagined the messages and the letters that might be coming her way, and oftentimes when she did, she took a bittersweet comfort in wearing that oversized jacket, a jacket made for a man she never heard from and a warmth that she could not let go.
In a burst of temper, Yamakawa Ookura crumpled up the note he held and flung it across the room. He let out a bellow of frustration and then thudded onto the floor and lay down stretched out. The note had confirmed his worst political fears; that Choushuu and Satsuma had entered into a secret alliance just a week before. ‘Sada-chan, it looks like you were actually on to something,’ he thought to himself grimly as he thought about Sakamato Ryouma, the man who had brokered the deal. He recalled Tokio’s notes that Sakamoto Ryouma was familiar with the leaders of both Satsuma and Choushuu and that Aizu too might benefit from talking to him. That suggestion had been declined as Sakamoto Ryouma had left his own domain of Tosa without official approval and was therefore a fugitive, and of course because he was also one of the most prominent anti-Bakufu activists in Kyoto. “But,” she had argued, “he is an advocate of Kaikoku, not Joui. Surely there is common ground to be found?” Well, Yamakawa reasoned bitterly, Sakamoto Ryouma must be a genius at finding common ground, for he had managed to bring together two of the bitterest foes, Katsura Kogorou of Choushuu and Saigou Takamori of Satsuma, and united them in a common cause – to overthrow the Tokugawa Shogunate, with Aizu on the front lines. Not only that, but he had managed to convert Choushuu to the philosophy of dealing with foreign countries, as opposed to rejecting them. And the worst part was, he had no concrete proof that they were plotting such things and could not move against Satsuma officially. Choushuu, if they were now harboured by Satsuma, would become ever harder to deal with.
“How ironic!” He muttered to himself. How ironic was it that true Joui would now be defined as learning from the West in order to make Japan stronger, to equal the Europeans and Americans. That had been Yamakawa’s own argument, and now it would be taken as the new creed of those who had previously demanded the death of every foreign soul that landed on Japanese soil. Ideologies would no longer be at the forefront of the conflict, which would evolve into a huge power struggle for the leadership of Japan. Ultimately, philosophical partisanship would matter less than an old-fashioned rally of allegiance to one’s region.
“And the year has only just begun!” He groaned again. It was an inauspicious start to an inauspicious year for Aizu.
On one of Shimabara’s quieter streets, there was a small but respected teahouse called the Kado-ya. The entertainment was refined and the management discreet. It was favoured by those who wished to keep private their private affairs and the ‘by invitation only’ nature of admittance generated an air of exclusivity about the establishment. In a room on the upper storey of the building, Itou Kashitarou was just beginning to hit his stride.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Itou said with insistence and a flourish of his hand. “I have great respect for Kondou-sensei. I believe that he has a great destiny before him. It’s just that I wonder at times whether his destiny is best served by having Hijikata as his right-hand man. The Shinsengumi are certainly a formidable force, but only as a means to an end and insofar as it does not become an end in itself. There are greater things in store for us, do you not believe?”
“Hear hear!” cried some of the men, brandishing their sake cups.
“Hijikata has elevated the Shinsengumi to an ideal, and that is his right, but his dream ends there. He cannot see beyond that, to a greater cause.”
Across the room, Saitou Hajime downed his drink. The woman next to him, Aioi Tayu, refilled his cup in a practised move. Neither of them spoke but there was a sense of familiarity between them – she had usually tended to him in the months since Itou had introduced the two, a complicity built on a mutual condescension towards those around them. Every now and then, she would glance at him but she was not inclined to talk, which suited him fine. In fact, Aioi was a rare geisha, famous for her lack of conversation in a profession for which amiability was so vital. She was a triumph of detachment over geniality; in a world where success depended entirely on one’s social skills, her looks of disdain, her indifferent demeanour, her cynical smiles were a surprising thrill for many men. She was popular because she was discreet (stemming from disinterest rather than tact) and her rank as Tayu was also due to the fact that she was very, very beautiful. She had taken to Saitou in her own way, which resulted in not a little speculation of how they acted towards each other in private. “I bet you they don’t even talk, they just glare at each other,” was how one put it, though they would never dare to ask.
“Saitou-kun, you agree with me, don’t you, that there are times when Hijikata presumes too much of us all.” Itou turned towards Saitou. Saitou merely nodded but this seemed enough to satisfy Itou, who continued his discourse on his ‘true vision’ for the Shinsengumi. “Why, even as we sit here, the Bakufu have ordered a march against Choushuu – they intend to quell the rebellion on its home ground. But what does Hijikata do? He persuades Kondou not to enrol the Shinsengumi for the campaign, so confined is his mind to the city limits of Kyoto. Not that I don’t appreciate the importance of Kyoto in all this, but there is a larger struggle here, for the future of Japan, and we are demanding less than our rightful role in shaping it.” And so forth.
That night, Saitou did not stay with the party but made his excuses and left close to midnight. Aioi saw him out as far as the entrance and watched until the glow of his lantern disappeared. He was never an easy man to read and tonight had been no exception; she wondered fleetingly whether she only imagined that he seemed more agitated than usual, but quickly came to the conclusion that it was not her concern.
As Saitou stalked through the streets, his mind began to clear from the haze of alcohol and he went over the aspects of Itou’s speech that he would relay to Hijikata. He smirked as he thought of how he would relish the look on Hijikata’s face at Itou’s new turns of phrases. ‘Hijikata cannot see beyond that, to a greater cause’ would certainly elicit an extreme reaction from the Vice Commander. Needless to say, as far as Hijikata and Kondou were concerned, the Shinsengumi was an end in itself, not a means to an end. “The Shinsengumi exist to keep the peace and for the ideal of Bushidou,” and it needed no further justification. Hijikata had rejected the notion that the Shinsengumi would join in the campaign against Choushuu.
“And what would that achieve?” He had argued. “We fight the Ishin-Shishi in Kyoto as protectors of the peace, not for political gain. And Aizu has not commanded us to the march, so it is not a question of allegiance.” As much as Hijikata personally disliked Katsura and the Ishin-Shishi, he disliked even more the notion of contributing to the decimation of an entire region for the sake of his own individual ambition and glory. The fact that Itou had argued for volunteering forces just made him more adamant as to the opposite.
A wicked wind whipped up the street, stealing the warmth from his body. His head felt refreshed by the chill but yet, the drink may have been affecting him still, for before he had realised it he found himself outside the Aizu Koumyouji compound. It was the sight of that once familiar side-gate that jolted him, and he stopped and stared. Without thinking, his hand placed itself on the handle. On a whim, he tried to open it but he only rattled the locks. Almost reluctantly, he pulled away and walked on, walked towards the river, past the banks that he had so long avoided. He stayed a while, reflective in his solitude, and he acknowledged to himself that there was a reason as to why he had left the party early – because the company of other men had grown unendurable and the touch of another woman unbearable, because a year ago that day, Takagi Tokio had left and a year had passed without any word from her. The city had seemed to grow duller after that, and he could only sharpen his blade against it.
A brisk breeze rustled the reeds. It was cold for a spring night. Saitou closed his jacket tighter and set back to Nishi-Honganji. On his way, he encountered a Bakufu official under attack from two Choushuu men. He proceeded to slay the assailants with minimal interaction. Such was life in Kyoto these days.
For the last while, Okita had been sprawled out in Hijikata’s room, gazing out onto the garden. He let out a restless sigh and then turned over to stare at Hijikata, much to Hijikata’s annoyance.
“Hijikata-san, I’m so bored.”
“Souji, if I can’t pretend like you’re not here, then you’ll have to get the hell out.”
Okita sighed again.
“There’s nothing to do.”
“You mean you have nothing to do. Go train or something.”
“It’s too hot to train, too hot to even think about training.”
“I didn’t realise that you could actually think.”
Okita made a face; Hijikata never seemed to be in a good mood these days. And he wasn’t the only one, Okita thought wearily.
“Hijikata-san, why does Saitou-san no longer have any time for me?”
“Because you’re a pain, Souji.”
“But! I’ve always been a pain, and he’s never let it bother him too much before. But now...” He let out another sigh. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. And I don’t understand why I have to suffer your presence as a result.”
“... Hijikata-san, what did you do to Saitou-san?”
“What makes you think I had anything to do with anything?”
Okita snorted derisively.
“Since when do you not have everything to do with everything here? I’m not as oblivious as you might think, you know.” Okita sat up and scratched behind his ear. “I don’t see why Saitou-san should want to go drinking with Itou-san than go fishing with me, unless you had something to do with it.”
“Fishing, Souji? You’re complaining about a playdate?”
“It’s not just the fishing,” Okita continued in a plaintive tone, “it’s a bunch of small things that add up to Saitou-san acting quite strange. Between the two of you, it’s almost as though you don’t like each other.”
“What makes you think we ever liked each other?” Hijikata glowered at Okita.
Okita began examining his toenails, his feet left bare in the heat of the summer weather, and in a low murmur stated,
“You didn’t ever not like each other.”
Hijikata did not deign to answer but instead turned his back to Okita. The book that he held in his hand, however, remained unopened as his thoughts drifted back over one year ago.
It had been on their way back from that particular trip to Edo, at one of the inns they had stopped at on the Toukaidou. Hijikata had been resting in his room when Saitou had passed by his door. He had called for him to come in, and though the door slid open, Saitou did not enter. Instead, framed by the doorway, he had fixed Hijikata with an inscrutable look, and then announced,
“Itou thinks I hate you.”
“... And?”
“... And I don’t intend to disabuse him of the notion any time soon.”
It was a quiet declaration of Saitou’s intentions and it provoked a most malicious grin from Hijikata.
“I don’t doubt that you can play the part.” If Itou thought that Saitou disliked Hijikata, it would be easier for him to close in on Itou’s circle.
Saitou made as though to leave but Hijikata called out to him.
“Is it because of Takagi Tokio?” Saitou stopped and turned his head towards Hijikata. “Is it because I told Itou about her?” Hijikata eyes were narrowed in amusement.
“... If you want me on your side, Vice-Commander, I suggest that I never hear that name from your lips again.”
The light of Saitou eyes was enough to cool the warm May night, and even Hijikata Toshizou had felt a slight shiver of his spine.
Occupied by his thoughts, Hijikata paid no attention to Okita, who was now lying prone on the floor and still griping.
“But it’s so boring!”
The rainy season had come and gone and in its place, an oppressive heat stifled Kyoto. People were listless in the glaring brightness of the afternoon and kept indoors or in the shade. The streets were quiet except for the occasional wind chime that stirred with the hot breeze. In the night though, by night it was an entirely different scene. As would a nocturnal creature, the city came to life at dusk – parties and geishas and the preparations for the Gion Festival, the drinking and the dancing and the deaths of men. Packs of men clad in blue hunted for prey and in turn were preyed upon by a red-haired creature of deadly ferocity (or so the rare witness described him). The night was the time for chilling ghost stories and outdoor revelry, and in the light of the morning, the cobblestones of the pavements were decorated by a rich tapestry of litter and fresh stains of blood.
Okita let out another long sigh and asked in a louder voice,
“Aren’t you bored too?”
This time, Hijikata did respond.
“It’s still daylight, Souji. Wait for the night.”
Dear Taizou,
I hope that you are looking after yourself in the heat of summer and that your love of watermelon is being adequately satisfied.
Word has just reached me from Edo that the Bakufu has reversed its decision and is now retreating from the campaign against Choushuu. I understand of course that the most honourable Shogun Iemochi passed away last month (meaning no disrespect, the timing is unfortunate – as though we did not have enough instability to deal with already) and we must wait for a successor to be chosen, but the decision fills me with unease. How are we to proceed from here? And is not Satsuma’s refusal to participate in the campaign evidence of their alliance with Choushuu and their rebellion against the Bakufu?
I heard rumours that the decision to reverse course was made due to the fact that Choushuu forces are better armed and more sophisticated than we ever predicted. (Proof that Satsuma is supplying arms to Choushuu?) Already, Satsuma is manoeuvring Aizu out of the courts and Choushuu’s momentum continues to increase. The road ahead seems fraught with difficulties for Aizu. At least we may take heart that our Divine Emperor favours us – so long as he trusts in Katamori-kou, despite my misgivings, perhaps all will be well. No doubt, you must have already considered these same questions, and how I wish you already had the answers.
Although I was surprised that you asked for them, I am sending my notes from Kyoto as requested with this letter. Perhaps it is too presumptuous of me, but if indeed my journals might be of some use to you as a source of reference, it would give me comfort that my time spent in Kyoto was not a complete waste. My dear friend, I trust you in all of this, and that all that is realised is right.
In other news, your younger brother Kenjirou, who is in the same class as Morinosuke, informed me the other day that you told him the reason I was not married was because men were put off by the small size of my breasts. Consider this adequate warning that the next time we meet, your life is in danger.
We miss you in Aizu. Please take care of yourself.
With fondest regards,
Sada.
Despite the serious tone of the letter, Yamakawa guffawed appreciatively as he read the line about his younger brother. Still holding the papers, he reached out for the delivered case; the five slim volumes that contained Tokio’s thoughts on political life in Kyoto. As she trusted him, he also trusted her and knowing her as he did, he hoped that her observations might serve to shed light on their situation in a different relief. He picked one up and slowly flicked through it.
‘The Ishin-Shishi: are they representative of Choushuu as a whole region? Are all Choushuu samurai associated with the group? How do the regions associate the battle for Kyoto with the battle for the future of Japan? Excessive action against Choushuu should be avoided, and if possible, one should try to “kill with kindness” the disgruntled factions.’
‘The Bakufu has lost sight of the fact that all politics are local, and they disregard the prevalent discontent among the people. Their actions are high-handed, unpopular and misunderstood. Or is the Bakufu so arrogant as to dismiss the real threat of revolution?’
‘Traditional reasons as to why Choushuu and Satsuma are rivals no longer bear weight in this day and age. Although I had initially thought of Katsura Kogorou as an unrealistic romanticist, he is far more pragmatic than I originally gave him credit for. And Saigou Takamori is an ambitious man – Aizu is an obstacle to his ascension. Choushuu has rice and Satsuma’s crops have failed. Satsuma has weapons, military resources that Choushuu are desperate for. But is it truly as simple as all that? They do not yet share an ideology. However, if as I foresee, with time, all the factions come to recognise that the Kaikoku policy is the best course of action, how will that play out?’
‘Aizu must not lose ground to Choushuu, but cannot trust Satsuma as an ally – Satsuma will betray Aizu the first chance it gets.’
In hindsight, she had posed many of the right questions, and now it was too late to heed those warning signs that she had flagged. He had himself advocated the use of military force against Choushuu earlier that year, in the hopes of stamping out the revolutionary forces before they gained more ground. But instead, they had underestimated the rebel forces and the heavy-handed campaign against the region had only succeeded in inflaming anti-Bakufu sentiments and stirring sympathies for Choushuu. For all that he considered Choushuu as the enemy, the extreme demonization that it had faced would serve as a source of resentment against the pro-Bakufu regions for many years to come. It had been ill-considered on the part of the Bakufu, spoiled by centuries of unquestioned rule and absolute authority, that it did not possess the broad-mindedness to look at things from the opposite point of view. And now, they were suspended in existentialist crisis until a new Shogun was chosen.
Outside, the summer sun glared unrelentingly down on the earth and baked the ground. A cat stretched out in the shade on the engawa. The cicadas were screeching for all their seven-day lives were worth. Yamakawa set down the journal and reached for a slice of watermelon that a maid had brought in earlier. The refreshing sweetness slid down his throat easily. Later, he would take his time to read those journals, but first some watermelon, and then a nap.
When the evening came and he picked up the notebooks again, he would notice things like the unique curve of her writing and that she resembled her father in her manner of language. He would see that in the first volume, dated Spring & Summer 1863, a page had been cut out but he would not give it any thought, and even if he had, he would never have guessed what had been written. Tokio had carefully taken the page out and placed it with her personal writings. The entry would have read thus.
‘Saitou Hajime: one of the lieutenant commanders of the Shinsengumi. Terrifyingly efficient with a sword. Grim, but fair. Considerate in a strange way, detached but not uncaring. Thin, tall – of an enviable height. Quite handsome at a certain angle, in a certain light. A biting way with words – but a good man, worth knowing.’
“Tell me about the men you killed last night.”
Aioi’s voice broke the silence that they lay in, side by side but not touching. Saitou turned his head slightly to look at her with some curiosity.
“... And why should I do that?” It was unusual for her to show an interest in conversation, let alone initiate it.
“You never talk about it.” She met his gaze with coolness.
“Whereas you just never talk.” He fixed his eyes on the ceiling again.
She reached out a hand to trace a new wound, a long but shallow gash across his abdomen. He tensed slightly, as though he expected her to dig her nails in. He sat up, pulling the sheets with him as her hand trailed lower.
“They say that you are a dangerous man.” She made no effort to cover her flesh.
“... You’ve known that since we first met.”
He reached for his clothes, and recalled that they were still being cleaned of the stains of blood. Instead, he pulled his sword closer, an unconscious and calming gesture.
“... They tell me that I should be afraid, that you are merciless.” He made no answer; he was merciless, but he believed in his cause. She sidled closer to him. “You are a killer. But I am not afraid.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, an impression of harsh conquest.
Saitou had no illusions about the woman at his side. There would always be women who were attracted to wild men, the danger and the thrill of adrenaline, the notion that somehow they were special in their ability to overcome the risks. He was well aware that Aioi had not been drawn to him as an individual but to his reputation as a Shinsengumi captain. She cared less for him than for her own self-satisfaction that she was capable of leashing a feral thing, and he allowed her to indulge in her fantasies, so long as it suited him.
“Tell me about last night.” She asked again. It did not suit him when she tried to satisfy herself with thoughts of the blood that he had spilt.
He whirled around and she gasped as she found herself pinned to the ground, his hands around her wrists, forcing her down as she struggled to sit back up.
“Ai, this morbid fascination of yours is unhealthy.” She wanted to use him, to feel the power of death over life. “You ask for tales of blood - and you are eager for it, because you presume yours won’t be shed.” His grin was unsettling. “Do you never imagine that you presume too much?” She met his gaze but could not hide the doubt she now felt. “They are right to tell you to be afraid.” He could feel her pulse racing through her wrists. And as abruptly as he had caught her, he let her go. She withdrew a little from him and glared.
“... I am not afraid.” She repeated defiantly.
“... Why? Do you delude yourself that you have tamed me?” He narrowed his eyes as he grabbed her chin, and then jerked it away. “You presume too much.”
They sat in silence after that, the way things usually were between them. They did not ignore each other so much as comport themselves as though the other were not present. It would be another while before his clothes were brought back, cleaned to the best of the maid’s ability. He would dress without saying a word while she combed her hair. Still, it seemed that she smarted from his refusal to play to her.
“Killer.” It was her parting shot, said with her back still turned to him as he moved towards the door.
As Saitou left the tea house and stepped out into the grey light of the early morning, the word echoed in his mind. ‘Killer.’ It was true, and it did not bother him. He fought to the best of his abilities for his cause and his abilities were deadly. It was not the worst thing a woman had ever called him and it would not be the last time he heard it. No, it was not for that reason exactly that some often-ignored part of him twisted painfully, but for the memory that once, what now seemed such a long time ago, another woman had called him “a good man”.
Sato smiled as she swept the fallen leaves from her garden, watching the two men instructing her two young charges about how to fix the rain doors at the front of her house.
“You have to make sure the corners meet properly.” Saitou held the wooden screen up as the young boy, Hiro, carefully pushed it into place.
“Actually, it’s easier if you get the ridges to fit first,” Okita offered from the other end of the wall as Yuki, the older sister, successfully got their screen to slide. “See Yuki-chan, that wasn’t so hard!” Okita ruffled her hair. Then, Okita gave it a strong shove that sent it slamming across to the other side, almost skinning Saitou’s nose.
“Hiro, go kick Okita in the crotch.” Saitou commanded of his assistant, while checking to see that his own door had not been dislodged in the minor collision.
“Hiro! Stop that!” Sato intervened before the boy could launch himself at Okita in a move that Saitou had taught him earlier that day. “And you two, you are far worse than the children, and if you’re not careful, you’ll leave my house in a worse state than the typhoon did!” She scolded the two grown men as though they were children, and what unrepentant children they would have made.
It had been an uncommonly strong typhoon that had raged over Kyoto for the last couple of days. All over the city, buildings were missing tiles and screen doors, and on some streets, entire storefronts had been blown away. A fishmonger now displayed a sign for a sweet shop, and the side wall of the sweet shop was kaleidoscopic, papered over in prints from a nearby ukiyo-e artist’s studio. Sato and the children had been quite amused when they opened the front door and found a tanuki statue from the restaurant down the street lying prone across the pathway. Later that morning, Hijikata had passed by and inquired as to how she was faring; she had gratefully accepted his offer to send some men to help with repairs.
“Really! And to think that Hijikata-han promised to send some men to help – not such unruly boys.”
“Sorry, O-Sato-san, but Saitou-san deserves it.” Okita would ever play the innocent.
“And what logical method did you use to come to that conclusion?” Saitou raised an eyebrow.
“The logic that leads to the inevitable conclusion that you, Saitou-san, are an ass.”
“Okita-han!” Sato gave him a reproachful look as she moved closer to examine their work with the rain doors, Hiro and Yuki demonstrating that they had been properly repaired.
“Well he is.” Okita rubbed his nose in discontent. “He doesn’t even appreciate that I got him out of the compound today, so he could spend a pleasant afternoon with you.”
“Whatever about O-Sato-san, it’s hardly a pleasant afternoon if I’m spending it with you.” Saitou certainly did not sound grateful.
“See, this is what I’m talking about. Or would you have rather stayed at Nishi-Honganji, with Itou-san and Hijikata-san bickering incessantly?”
“Itou always pays the tab when we go drinking, which is more than I can say for you or Hijikata.” Saitou replied with a shrug.
“And he doesn’t treat me with due respect, even though I’m older.” He looked imploringly at Sato, who only smiled back.
“That’s because you don’t act it.” Saitou looked at him with detached amusement. “And besides, even my own brother can’t expect me to treat him ‘with due respect’, you shouldn’t take it so personally.” Saitou surveyed the roof, calculating how much work needed to be done to replace the missing tiles.
“... Saitou-han, you have a brother?” Sato asked.
Saitou turned to her, and noticed that she looked taken aback.
“Yes, a brother and a sister.”
Sato glanced at Okita who merely shrugged, and Sato slowly ventured,
“But you are the eldest, are you not?”
“No, I’m the youngest.” Saitou answered. He could guess at her next question.
“... If you don’t mind my asking, why then are you called ‘Hajime’?” It puzzled her, that if he was not the first born, and let alone the first born son, why had he been named ‘The First’?
“I was born on the first day of the first month. It was a logical choice, and quite apt if I say so myself.” He cocked his head with a hint of patronizing and she gave a small exclamation of realization.
“Actually O-Sato-san, Saitou-san comes from simple-minded folk, they could only count to ‘one’ even though he was their third child.” Okita quipped and quickly sidestepped as Saitou kicked a bit of wood at him.
“But I see now!” Sato chuckled. “Though, it does seem strange to think that you have siblings.” Sato hastened to add as Saitou looked at her again. “It’s just that you seem so unique and to think that there might be more of you... and that did not come out right, I’m sorry!” Her face reddened as the corner of Saitou’s mouth twitched in what could have been a frown but might have been a smile.
“Ahahaha!” Okita could not contain his laughter. “She thinks your family are freaks, Saitou-san!”
“Okita-han! That’s not what I meant at all!”
“Hiro, go kick Okita in the crotch.”
“Whoa! Whoa there! Easy now,” Okita evaded the rapidly moving ball of youthful enthusiasm. “Yuki, lend me a hand here, hold your brother back.”
“I shan’t,” came the cool reply as Yuki moved to Sato’s side.
“Hey! Why are you on his side?” Okita sounded quite put out as he managed to catch the boy and tuck him safely under his arm. Hiro shouted, rejoicing in the rough play as most young boys do.
“Because he’s tall.” It was an irrefutable argument.
“That’s it?” Okita was visibly appalled. He spun around to look at Saitou. “Did you hear that? Because you’re tall, apparently.”
“It’s a logical conclusion, by your own standards.” Saitou smirked.
Just then, a messenger arrived at the gate – Sato went to meet him and he handed her a letter. She paid, they bowed to each other and then the courier left. As she walked back up the path, Saitou noticed that she looked at him guardedly for a moment. The sudden apprehension struck him as odd, but the reason became clear when Okita came towards them, Hiro still under his arm and Yuki hanging around his neck, and asked quietly,
“... Is that a letter from Tokio-san?”
Sato nodded and looked up anxiously at Saitou. No noticeable change showed in his expression, but the tension about his body was obvious – in the space of a few seconds, the atmosphere in the garden darkened rapidly. He was staring at the letter, as though unwilling to accept that such a thing existed, but as Sato broke the seal, he abruptly moved away, walking into the house and closing the door firmly behind him.
“... Do you think I should go talk to him?” Okita murmured, and the children grew quiet.
“... I think it would be better if I went.” Sato sighed, gazed at the door a moment longer and then unfolded the pages.
Later, Sato went inside where she found Saitou standing on the engawa, looking out on the back garden. He did not greet her, but as she drew level with him, simply stated,
“This side of the house didn’t suffer too much damage.” His voice was calm and even.
“It was very fortunate for us.” The agitation showed only in his eyes.
She knew that he knew that the letter was still in her hands although he did not look at her. He made some more perfunctory comments about the house and the necessary repairs and Sato dutifully replied. It was obvious though, that it was only a false conversation. Sato, after what seemed a long while of stilted sentences and unnatural pauses, felt unable and unwilling to force the issue and made to leave – and this finally triggered a response.
“O-Sato-san,” and she turned around. “... So you keep in touch.” He spoke with forced detachment. She bowed her head.
“Yes, we write to each other quite often.” Sato resolved then that she must at least try, for the sake of her friend. ‘Yamanami-han would approve,’ she told herself. She took a deep breath. “She always sends her best regards to you.”
Saitou snorted softly, a mixture of disdain and disbelief.
“She was quite heartbroken that you would not see her before she left.”
At this, the cynical smile formed fully on his lips.
“I was not informed as to when she was leaving.”
“... She did send you a message.” Sato stated gently, more confident now of her role. “She waited for you for as long as she could.”
At that, something shattered inside him. He crossed his arms and hid his hands in his sleeves, but he could not hide from himself the fact that his fingers were gripping his elbows tightly. It felt as though all that doubt, all those misgivings and bitterness was flowing out through an open wound
“I never received a message.” His voice dropped to an extreme low, it was almost a growl.
“I presumed as much.” Sato’s voice in comparison grew gentler still.
“You never mentioned this before.” He strained to sound casual.
“You never asked, and you acted as though you did not want to know.” Her tone carried a reproof that she laid the blame solely with him. “And she would not write to you again, since she was not certain that you cared for her any longer.”
It was not for nothing that Sato had been a popular geisha; she could read men well. And as difficult to gauge as Saitou usually was, it took no skill on her part to be able to tell that he would prefer to be alone just then.
“I will be outside with the others, please join us when you feel like it.” She murmured kindly. He nodded sharply but his eyes seemed to look past her. She paused, observing him for another moment, and then added. “She wrote in her letter that she will be returning to Kyoto next month.” And with that, she left the room.
For the man left behind, it was as though those few words had deconstructed him within the shell of his body and now the pieces needed to be fitted together again. And yet, the pieces would not fit the way he remembered – they began to realise a new pattern, a different dimension. He recalled, he resented, and he regretted. Although at first he cursed her, knowing that her pride had precluded her from confirming whether he had received her message or not, he acknowledged after a while that it was the same pride that had prevented him from asking whether she had sent such a note. It was not only a matter of pride, but also a mutual desire to avoid being burned in such a way again. The events of the past year and a half were placed in a different context and light, and now took on a new significance.
Saitou raised his eyes to the sky. The clouds skimmed by swiftly against a backdrop of clearest blue. The storm had passed and the air felt cleaner in its wake. The city, the light, the whisper of the wind – they were not as they had been just a few moments before. It really made all the difference in the world, it seemed, if a message were or were not delivered. And nothing in the world would be the same again after it had been received.
How many apologies can I possibly make for the lateness of this update? How many excuses would you accept? I got so caught up in real life that I forgot how rewarding a healthy fantasy can be (or not so healthy perhaps). I originally intended to post this in July, but the amount of research and rewriting meant that I was honestly unable to show it to anyone - and even now that I missed the second anniversary of my first posting (check the date! two years!), this is only the least acceptable standard. It really was a nightmare.
Perhaps this is always the case with me, but I am expecting brutal criticism. This was such a difficult chapter to write and it turned out much longer than I wished. I didn't want to get bogged down in history but it couldn't be avoided. I wanted to focus more on the personal relationships, but the format meant all episodes had to be kept short. Some people might not mind the history and politics; and others will find it too much, I'm sure. However, I did gloss over so much that the major sin here is not misrepresentation but omission. So, please go ahead and be brutal. Rate this on a scale of 1 to 10. Criticize the storyline. Correct my grammar and dislike my use of punctuation. Mock my limited vocabulary and stilted phraseology. Hate on my characterizations. It's taken so much out of me to write this chapter, that I'm desperately afraid it will bomb, but at the same time, I need readers to be honest. I need your honest opinions!
Then again, I take heart in so many of the kind comments that I've received so far. So a thousand thousand thank yous to you all, and a shout out to Dani for her extremely encouraging email. This chapter is dedicated to a few people:
Hakubaikou and fellow judges for the 2006 FanArt Contest (have you seen the results? absolutely stunning!) and Bunneh for her doodles (which I'd like to post) and Older Woman - for keeping my love of RK alive.
Secretarytocapt3 - for being the most amazing super scholar ever in helping me with the Michael Auslin interview.
Peadar - because you didn't have a choice but to put up with this whole process.
And of course, to all my readers and reviewers who have not yet given up on me. If you left a review and I didn't reply, I'm really sorry. I do try my best to keep up, but work really has a nasty habit of preventing me from doing the things I'd like to do. It's been two years since I began this, thinking it would be an innocent and indulgent little diversion, and how monstrous it has grown! I apologize for the inconvenience and hope readers won't hold it against me.
Just one quick fic rec: on my "Favourite Stories" list, if you haven't already read it, Talentless Hack's hilarious story about Saitou and Tokio. Pure comedy gold! And we agreed: the manga Saitou is neither sullen nor humourless. Such a refreshing thing to see such a different take on my favourite couple.
And now for the annotations: as always, if I've left anything out, don't hesitate to ask, and you can find a lot of information on the Shinsengumi Headquarters website.
1. Itou Kashitarou: the charismatic Shinsengumi Military Counsel (also referred to as Advisor) who I really can't say anything more about for spoiler reasons. Though I'm sure the Shinsengumi fans are not impressed with my rendition of him, I'm actually rather fond of the character. Regarding the baths, there are both indoor and outdoor Japanese baths, and bathing is a communal thing.
2. Matsudaira Teru: older adopted sister of the Daimyou of Aizu, Matsudaira Katamori. Tokio was historically her 'lady-in-waiting' and her scribe. Teru was an extremely accomplished woman by all accounts and would have been responsible for much of Tokio's court education. 'Hime' is translated as Princess in English, and Hime-sama is like saying "Your Highness". Regarding the use of first names for nobles, that is how it's done in Japanese, mainly to distinguish the individual from the family, not out of disrespect. And the retainers and subjects usually referred to them by the first name plus appropriate suffix such as 'sama' or 'kou' meaning 'lord'.
3. Nisshinkan School: Aizu's most prestigious school of learning, that turned out some of Meiji's most respected scholars and educators. Among these were Takamine Hideo, Tokio's cousin, and Yamakawa Kenjirou, Ookura's younger brother (both who were born the same year as Morinosuke). They would study abroad and build schools and do other very respectable things that more knowledgeable people than me have explained on the Shinsengumi HQ website.
4. Shieikan dojo and Tama: Tama is the area that Kondou and Co. came from, and Shieikan the dojo that Kondou inherited as master.
5. Aioi Tayu: One of the women thought of as having been romantically involved with Saitou.
6. Events that actually happened:
- March 1865: Dr. Matsumoto Ryoujun, physician to the Shogun, visits the Shinsengumi and conducts medical examinations of the members.
- April 1865: Trip to Edo, with Hijikata, Itou, Saitou, Toudou among others.
- January 1866: The Satsuma-Choushuu Alliance signed in secret.
- July 1866: The recall of the second Choushuu campaign; the death of Shogun Iemochi.
Earthquakes and fires, the two deadliest threats to Japanese towns, were extremely common in Japan; earthquakes because of Japan's geography and fire because of the wooden architecture, and fires would occur after earthquakes due to lanterns and candles falling over.