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Irresistible	By : kamorgana Category: Rurouni Kenshin > General Views: 5018 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Disclaimer: standard disclaimers apply. RK belongs to Watsuki, but the ideas, text and OCs are mine.

Irresistible

Chapter 6: Under the Bleeding Moon
June 5th, 1865

Sitting on the engawa, in front of her room, Tokio observed the Shinsengumi soldiers, a frown curving delicately her eyebrows. There was something going on, and she had been unable to figure out what, *exactly*. She would have asked her father, but the Aizu officials had been reunited all day, not even going out of the room for lunch, and were planning to have dinner there, too, as Michiko had announced to the girls that there wouldn�t be a formal one. She knew that it was useless to try to eavesdrop the conference, which was severely guarded, and she wasn�t foolish enough to try Matsudaira�s office.

She was burning with curiosity, since the sudden cancellation of their visit of the Gion festival, and the unusual change of their sentinels, early in the afternoon. Not only their Shinsengumi guards were supposed to be replaced only in the morning and early evening, but also, the attitude of the newcomers had been awakening her suspicions. They were in ebullition, spending their time discussing animatedly, their faces eager with anticipation. Yet, they were shutting up as soon as somebody was approaching them, servants and nobles included. Tokio had tried to send Yuka, under the pretext of offering them tea, hoping that she would overhear anything, but in vain.

Had it something to do with the aborted attack on their way to Kyoto? She had been curious about this, too, and it was the most logical conclusion. The attackers weren�t ordinary road brigands, thus she had wondered whether they had been hired, and opened to her father about her doubts. But all that he had answered her was that the matter was in the hands of the Shinsengumi. She had deduced, considering the numerous attacks from Choshu and Satsuma rebels against their properties in Aizu, that it might be a part of their plans. That would also explain why she had been ordered a total discretion on the matter, as if she would blabber about it like a brainless innocent�.

That was what they all thought of her, obviously, she realized bitterly. Feeling her anger fueling again, remembering her conversations of the previous night, she shook her head. She had decided not to think about it until she could have a clear mind, and that was not yet the case.

She went back to the thread of her thoughts. Trying to solve the enigma would help her to stay logical, and divert her mind. Unfortunately, it was for now only frustrating. Yes, the logical option was that the rebels were behind the attack. The cancellation took all its sense, then. If there were any threats upon their heads, it was only natural that she and the others weren�t to leave the residence. She was very annoyed at the thought that she would be locked, yet, the other logical deduction was that the Shinsengumi prepared a punitive expedition. She had seen enough soldiers at Tsuruga-jo, to recognize the anticipation of the fight on the young faces of the present ones. She would have liked to be sure. The traitors� elimination would be a relief�.and she could start to make her own plans.

She wasn�t supporting the Bakufu by sheer, blind loyalty, either, and would be glad when the traitors would be crushed. The system was far from being perfect: she had read some essay by a Mito philosopher, criticizing it. Of course, it was forbidden, and her father had been very unhappy when he had caught her with it. She had promised not to do it again, that had been enough, and she had managed to hide where she had found the book. She shook her head again, thinking of poor Yuujiro. She was so sorry for him�.he had believed in it so much. That had been his mistake. The Mito ideology was the reference of numerous Ishin, and he had thought that joining them was the solution.

Tokio didn�t agree. The critics of the Bakufu had some point, yet they weren�t proposing a better option, and she disapproved of the Ishin�s goals and methods. If, thanks to her father and mother�s friendship with Kondo, she wasn�t like Michiko, sure of her superiority towards the commoners, well, not all of them, she knew that she was an exception. She wasn�t very fond of an order ruling people private lives, friendships and alliances; nevertheless, she truly believed that society needed one. Destroying it was dangerous, and only chaos could ensue. It was also idiotic to place people who weren�t ready to bear the responsibilities of power on top of the social scale. Samurai were educated in that extend. Yes, some were corrupted, but not all. Not the majority. And the change that the Ishin proposed would surely not improve, in any away but symbolic, the Japanese�s situation.

It was acceptable to fight for the people, but not if it wasn�t more than mere words. Tokio couldn�t stand the Ishin�s hypocrisy. They had accepted commoners in their ranks by default only, and weren�t giving a damn about the population, when pretending to lead Japanese to a new freedom. Their attacks in Aizu had resulted into the death of several peasants, when the traitors had tried to burn the rice fields, or provoked the explosion of a merchant�s stock. The rich would always have rice, and pay for armies to protect themselves, but what of the others, in case of anarchy? In spite of their beautiful words, the Ishin weren�t giving any second thoughts to them. Tokio wasn�t na�ve: a war or a revolution wasn�t without victims and bloody sacrifices. Yet at least, the Bakufu wasn�t hiding dirty intentions behind meaningless words. And as for the foreigners, while some of the Ishin attacked them and thus placed Japan in a delicate situation, some had changed their mind and wanted to conclude alliances with them now. How sickening to sell Japan�s integrity just for personal political ambitions. The Choshu Daimyo, who was supporting them, should be decapitated. He had not enough honor to deserve the right to commit suicide.

�Dark thoughts, it seems��

Tokio turned to Miyu and Reiko, who had gone out of the latter�s room. They had a conspiratorial look, too. Was it an epidemic, she thought in a fit of sour mood.

�Are you going to tell me what�s going on?� she asked finally, as they were smiling at each other.

�I just heard that Michiko-san will have to dine with our fathers and the Daimyo tonight. But not us�� Reiko began excitedly.

�So, we can have dinner together, in Reiko�s room�.without Torimi and her court of idiots,� Miyu finished on a snort.

Tokio�s gloomy mood cleared a little. It would be nice to have only familiar faces around, and she needed badly a distraction. She had counted on the festival to provide it, but that would be a nice one.

�Did you already ask Aiko?�

�Not yet. Reiko, you should go,� Miyu proposed.

�Oh�.she said she was going to write to her mother, do you think she would mind the interruption? And what if she feels sick again?�

�I don�t think so. And the perspective of an evening without tension will surely please her,� Tokio asserted.

�Oh. Yes, I�m going, then��

The two girls looked at the departing figure of the younger.

�Can she be anymore timid?� Miyu smiled, sitting next to her friend.

�She�ll get over it�you do everything you can for that. And we might be wrong. Proof is that at the beginning, I thought *you* were like this, too.�

�Stop teasing me, Tokio-chan. But I hope that I still give this impression�you know my mother.�

Tokio assented silently and Miyu bit her bottom lip, changing rapidly the subject.

�Anyway, I would never had been shy with Aiko�she is going to appreciate a quiet dinner, isn�t she? Although I noticed that Torimi is giving her a break. Just as you thought she would��

�Oh, that wasn�t difficult to guess that she would have to behave, in front of Matsudaira-sama.�

Miyu looked at her friend from the corner of her eyes. �Yes, sure. Come on, tell me what�oh.�

She stood up, and Tokio followed her gaze only to imitate her, containing a sigh of displeasure. Two men in blue haori were walking towards the group of guards, and one of them was Saitoh. If only she could have been spared seeing him today. She really didn�t need a reminder of her situation.

He had a scowl on his face, as usual, and was fixing the sentinels with severity. They hadn�t noticed him, and were still talking excitedly. The other man, Nagakura, gave him a glance, with a smug expression. Tokio understood why: he said merely a few words, and the poor young men were reduced to a shameful silence, watching their feet and red with confusion.

The second captain looked around, and when his eyes fell on Miyu, she bowed deeply. He answered, to Tokio�s slight surprise, not at his politeness, but at his quite friendly composure.

�What is it?� she whispered into Miyu�s ear.

�Oh, he avoided me the attentions of the old lecher, yesterday�� the girl answered with a thankful smile at Nagakura.

�A gentleman,� Tokio quipped, bemusedly.

She crossed Saitoh�s eyes, which were full of scornful irony, and her smile faded. He blatantly turned his back on her, barking something to the guards.

�This one is sure rude,� her friend blamed. �And mean. He terrifies poor Reiko.�

Tokio shrugged, and was about to make a disdainful remark, when another group of Shinsengumi soldiers showed up. Those who were there in the afternoon were barely her age, and these looked older. They didn�t seem impatient or excited, only focused. While Nagakura was leading the first group on the other side of the building, towards the barn, Saitoh was sternly giving directives to the new ones.

Another change of guards. Definitely, there was something going on, reflected Tokio again, watching the tall figure leaving finally.

***

The second and third units of the Shinsengumi had settled near the Kamo river, a few yards away from Gion. The hot evening breeze was carrying the happy noises and the frying food smells of the festival until the riversides. The population was rejoicing, oblivious of the events to come, of the quiet by order troops waiting the now close moment when their captains would lead them to their positions around Ikedaya.

The sun had already set, and the rising mood was glowing, red orange sphere in the black sky. Saitoh was sitting apart from the others, on the talus of the riverside, smoking slowly a cigarette. He shook the ash away from the red tip, frowning, as the shushing sounds of the enthusiastic discussions between his underlings reached his ears. He was seriously displeased with part of them.

He could understand that they were anticipating the fight. He was, Nagakura was, Hijikata was, Kondo was, and everybody was. Yet, the morons didn�t understand that giving in to excitation was dangerous.

The purpose of a fight was not to enjoy it. That was merely a plus. The purpose of a fight was to win, and the reason to win was to complete one�s duty. The thought, the energy, the entire being of a samurai had to be concentrated on this one and only goal.

He was hammering it into his underlings� thick heads, since the moment they were recruited. Most of the imbeciles thought of him as a killjoy. They didn�t realize that he was giving them the way to stay alive. When duty was everything, sacrificing one�s life in the process became accessory, which erased the ultimate weakness of men, the last thing holding them on: fear. Fear was blurring the mind, leading to errors of judgment, to hesitation, in a word, to defeat. Fear was leading to death. What the enthusiastic imbeciles didn�t get was that being fearless didn�t mean ignoring reality. It would catch them sooner or later, thankfully, not when they would have to kill for the first time, as it happened to so many inexperienced fighters, who only realized then what killing meant. No, it would be worse: it would seize them at the first counterattack, the first wound inflicted by the enemy, the first time that they would see their own blood flowing. There was no place for this in the idiots� fantasy tales, except as scars, witness of their vane glory. When their adversary didn�t accept to behave and to be killed easily, the possibility of losing would occur to their mind, and with it doubt, which would fill them little by little, affect their confidence, affect their reactions, their enthusiasm, and the passion carrying them would just vanish. A fight couldn�t be won without spirit, and they would lose it both.

Being fearless was looking fear in the face, accept it, and tame it. Passion had to be invested in the goal, not in the way to reach it. The most precious ally of a fighter was not passion, but knowledge. Knowledge of his feelings, to control them and use them, knowledge of his limits, not to be surprised, knowledge of the enemy, to be efficient, and finally, knowledge of his goal, to give sense to his fight. Knowledge gave certainties: not based on dream and illusions, but logically, matter-of-factly build certainties. This was where the fighting spirit found its source. This was where victory laid.

Saitoh barely remembered the time when he had been that naively enthusiast. He gave a grateful thought to his father, for having taught him this truth early. He reminded his deception, the first time he had won a sparring fight against the oldest and strongest of the students, at the dojo. He had gone home feeling on the top of the world. His father had listened to his exalted tale, and sent him practice until he fell with exhaustion, with a good lecture. If it had been a real fight, you would be dead, son, he had said, severely. He had been right. Saitoh realized now that his own arrogance had dominated him, and that this kind of early warnings had saved his life for sure, when it came to real battles.

He couldn�t deny that he liked to fight worthy adversaries, and that he liked to win, that he was exulting when he did, it was in his nature, he was and would always be a proud and fierce fighter, yet controlling himself had become a habit, a second nature. When he entered the Shinsengumi, he had considered to be more adult than most of the others, Harada in particular. The man had gold luck, to be alive whereas he was so hot blooded and undisciplined. Looking back, it was ironic to realize that Saitoh himself was still a kid, then. In two years, living on the edge of danger everyday, completing secret missions inside the Shinsengumi, dissimulating each and every of his thoughts, even to Okita, his control had only grown. He had experienced none of the shock that some new recruits would undertake tonight, more evolved, slowly, everyday building more who he was.

One thing only didn�t change: his faith in Justice. These two years had only reinforced his determination. It was part of who he was, and always would be. His spirit.

The shushing had become louder, changing into words, and Saitoh interrupted his musings, tossing his cigarette in the river, stood up, and stretched his lean body. The men needed a new warning. As their leader, he was responsible for doing his utmost, now, so that they would make it alive. On the battlefield, it would be to each his own.

He gave a last look at the moon. Its color had changed from orange to red, as if silently warning that blood would be spilled tonight.

***

Peeping outside from her room�s shoji, Reiko shuddered heavily.

�The moon is red. I hate it, it�s so�creepy.�

Miyu reached for two more candles, and lit them, smiling. �It�s too bad that it isn�t O-bon yet, the atmosphere is perfect for ghost stories�Oh, we could tell some anyway?�

�Ah, no, out of question!� the younger yelped, shutting the shoji with a neat shove, before blushing and mumbling an apology.

The three other girls stared at her. Miyu shifted to place the two supplementary candles on the wooden box nearest to her, trying to hide her hilarity, but finally burst into laughter when she took her place in front of the table again, and met Tokio�s bemused eyes.

�We wouldn�t do that to you, Reiko-chan,� Aiko smiled gently. She was resting, leaning on the opposite wall, a zabuton sustaining her back.

�Yes, nobody can forget your white face after last year�s reunion�especially as you kept it for three days,� Miyu went on, between two sobs of laughter.

�You�.you are so mean,� Reiko pouted, sitting back at her place.

Tokio looked at her with affection. Her round cheeks made her look like a little hamster, how cute she was.

�Why don�t you have the last manju? I�m so full�� she proposed.

�Really? Oh�yes, fine, thank you!�

Reiko had a sweet tooth, and she retrieved her happy face as she was eating the pastry, as Tokio had thought. It was really a pleasant evening, and she had forgotten her previous preoccupations. Miyu was creating the ambiance, Reiko less timid when in private, and Aiko herself had been smiling most of the time. A nice, peaceful evening between friends had been welcomed for all of them, and Tokio smiled, too, appreciating the intimate and relaxed atmosphere of the room, bathed into candlelight, like a little cocoon, so different from the usual coldness of the residence. The excellence of the food, the bantering and talks had done wonders on everybody�s mood. Indeed, the small table was looking like a battlefield, with the plates containing the rests of their meal, little recipients half-filled with soy sauce, and the empty rice bowls. Tokio was particularly glad, because Aiko had eaten more than usual.

�We�re out of tea,� Aiko remarked, her eyes following Tokio�s, and falling on their empty teacups. She started to stand up. �I think it�s my turn to go and get the hot water��

Miyu looked at them smugly, before announcing: �Don�t bother, Aiko-chan. I have better than this.�

She crawled to the closet, made the door shift, and reached under the folded futon. She turned to them, holding proudly a little bottle.

�We can have sake, instead,� she triumphed.

Tokio raised a brow. �Where did you get this?�

�I sneaked it during the party last night. I thought that we might have the use for it one day.�

�You�You hid it in MY room,� Reiko breathed, utterly shocked. �What if Michiko-san had found it?�

�Oh, please, don�t be such a sissy,� Miyu stated. �Anyway, Michiko-san would have never believed that you would have done such a thing. She has good sense. Here, have one.�

Tokio contained a snort, as she accepted a cup after Reiko took hers. Aiko made the gesture to refuse it, yet Miyu�s tentative smile seemed to convince her.

�If Michiko-san had so much good sense, she wouldn�t be so infatuated with Torimi,� Reiko noticed.

�She is strict, but she nice with everybody,� Aiko said. �Why don�t you like her?�

Tokio had arched her brows at the question directed to her. Two insightful comments, and the latter was frankly less agreeable to hear than the former.

�I don�t dislike her,� she smiled, �but as Reiko said, I am weary of people getting along with��

�Bitches,� Miyu asserted peremptorily, then she laughed again at Aiko and Reiko�s dismayed faces. �Oh, come on, that�s the right word. You look like you just saw a ghost. Only that Reiko isn�t white enough.�

Thankful for the distraction, Tokio raised her cup. �To what are we cheering?�

�To good friends,� Aiko said softly.

They looked at each other, smiles blossoming on the four faces, before they said cheerfully �Kampai�. They stayed silent a while, sipping slowly the alcohol.

�Oh, about Torimi and scary stories, they are all in her room, and I overheard the conversations when I went for the tea water,� Miyu announced. �They were gushing about the eligible bachelors present at the party.�

Reiko sighed: �They were already when I passed by�But this is the kind of scary stories that I can stand.�

Tokio didn�t like very much the turn of the conversation. She finished her cup, and re-filled it. She didn�t want to hear about eligible bachelors, at the risk of her thoughts drifting to less eligible ones.

�Really, Reiko-chan? That could be funny, we never do this�So, who has your preference? Imada Shunichi, like them?� Miyu asked.

Reiko�s cheeks were already pink with the alcohol consumption, which gave her more confidence, yet she blushed more as she murmured: �Captain Okita is nice�and good-looking��

�That was their opinion, and one or two regretted that Captain Harada wasn�t there�of course, I can�t blame them, they are real fighters. Better than the court flowers around us. But these girls are so shallow. You don�t judge a person on the looks. Do I try to convince myself?�

Tokio observed Miyu, thinking that she was too severe with herself. Her face was lean, and she had not the kind of beauty that was calling men�s eyes immediately, yet her big brown eyes were full of life, and her features incredibly expressive, when she let her personality show.

�No, but that�s important, too�.I mean, for example, Captain Nagakura seems very nice, but he isn�t good-looking,� Reiko let out.

�He IS,� Miyu protested. �And he is smart!�

�Okita-san is smart, too.�

Tokio was blinking, watching her two sweet friends changing into furies. *That* was sure scary. She preferred the ghosts any time.

�Let�s ask Tokio-chan,� Miyu decided after a serious glaring session. �Ne, which Captain is the more attractive?�

The image of Saitoh in the woods, his face so close to hers, then of him fighting popped into Tokio�s mind. She grimaced, and glanced at her sake cup, probable cause of her weird ideas, in utter disgust.

�You don�t think that either of them is fine?�

Before Tokio could answer to Miyu�s puzzled question, Aiko stood up.

�I am a bit tired, now. I should go to bed.�

She was trying to smile, but her eyes were sad again. The other girls said their farewell the more cheerfully they could, yet a thick silence fell upon the room, as soon as their friend was gone, her slow steps resounding softly on the engawa�s wooden floor.

�Me and my big mouth�.� Miyu finally uttered. �My mother is right. I�m such an idiot.�

�Do you think she is offended?� Reiko worried.

Tokio shook her head, and, kneeling, gathered the cups, pouring the last of the sake equally.

�I don�t think so. This kind of talk is still making her uncomfortable, but eventually, she will get used to it. She has to learn to go on.�

They made their cup cling together, without a word, all hoping silently that their friend would get over her loss.

Tokio looked outside, by the shoji that Aiko had forgotten to close again. The sky was void of any stars, and the moon only glooming in red seemed to be mourning someone, too.

***

His lungs were aching as he ran faster. Okita tried to forget the growing pain, focusing on not losing his prey, which was complicated by the darkness of the streets, the moon wrapping the night into a thick dim light, instead of clearing it with silver rays.

Damn it, he thought, scorching fire filling his chest.

The Ishin took a quick turn, and the Shinsengumi Captain tightened his hold on his sword as he followed him into the narrow alley. As he had thought, the man had taken advantage of his advance to treacherously attack him, as soon as he had turned the corner.

He blocked his enemy�s sword in the quickest gesture, and contained a disappointed reaction. Few physical strength, quite slow reaction, he wasn�t that shadow hitokiri, unlike Okita had hoped. In a few passes, he had the better over his adversary, who fell on the floor in a gush of blood.

The first captain got rid of the liquid tainting his sword, exhaling short sighs, trying to steady his breathing, heavy and hurting, while keeping his senses concentrated on the surroundings, in case other enemies showed up.

He stilled, noticing a presence, and his gaze piercing the night fell upon a small silhouette, immobile under a porch, a few paces in front of him. A woman.

His eyes grew accustomed to the level of light, and he could discern her features. She was around his age, had a very pale face, red and full lips, but what caught him were her eyes, darker than the night, eating her face by their depths and brilliance. She was staring at the cadaver at his feet, the black orbs full of sympathy, of deep pity and yet there was something fatalistic in that look.

She looked up at his face, and he felt the corner of his lips lifting, reflexively putting his boyish mask in place. Reflexively, and stupidly, he thought, as she had probably been there the whole time, had seen him kill the man without batting an eyelash. She didn�t react, only her eyes hardened, not reproachful, yet definitely displeased, and immune to his usual display of sympathetic temper. As if she saw beyond it. Which was only normal, he reminded himself.

His lungs had cooled down, and the unavoidable happened. His throat scratched, itched, the thick liquid filling it, and he coughed loudly, chest ripping with the sharp pain. He spat the blood, watching it in disbelief, black-red stain on his haori�s sleeve. It was the second time tonight. It had started a month ago, nevertheless he was still mildly shocked each time it happened. He wasn�t used yet to the idea. It was one thing to know, another to accept it. Remembering the presence of the girl, he glanced at her again, only to receive a greater shock. Her expression had changed.

She was staring at him in the same way as she had the lifeless body of his adversary.

The door behind her opened, light from inside of the house splattering on the street, and he noticed that she was holding a pharmacy box. She turned around, to greet the man stepping next to her.

�Thanks a lot, Mariko-chan,� he said, jovially, after they bowed to someone behind the now closing door. �Yoshimura-san�s son wouldn�t have made it without your father�s medicine.�

�I will transmit him your thanks as soon as he is back from the village, yet it won�t be before tomorrow afternoon, most surely. A birth takes time. Luckily, I knew where to find the potion.�

She had a low, warm voice. The man turned around, noticing Okita. He was quite tall, his black hair concealed under a little cap, indicating a commercial activity. He was in his early 40�s, estimated the Shinsengumi, discerning white threads in the man�s thin long mustache, and the goatee hanging from his chin. His fine brows lifted high on his forehead, taking in the situation, his attitude losing all joviality for an instant, his eyes sharp and analytical.

He then turned his back on the samurai, after a slight bow, and wrapped his hand around the girl�s shoulder.

�I�m sure you helped to make it. I�ll walk you home,� he went on, all friendly again. �The nights aren�t sure here lately.�

Walking rapidly, they were reaching the end of the street, and Okita heard her again as they disappeared at the corner.

�Thank you, Nenji-sama. I prepared another dose for you. It seems that this summer flu is an epidemic. If Misao-chan was to get feverish, you can give it immediately, and it will avoid the��

Her voice got lost into the night. He stood there, still stuck by the impression that her gaze had made on him, for several minutes.

�Okita-kun?�

Saitoh was arriving at the other end of the alley, by long strides, his amber gaze fixed on the body. His uniform was soaked in blood, which also tainted his face. A wolf after the battle. His obvious interest for Okita�s victim helped the first captain to overcome his weird impression. He smiled, innocently.

�This isn�t your man, Saitoh-san,� he announced smugly. �No need to worry.�

The tall man stopped near him, examining the wound, then his friend, before smirking, purposefully.

�I guess so. You might have been in a worse state otherwise. What is it?�

Okita had been unable to hide a surprised reaction at the irony of his friend�s word. Nothing escaped to Saitoh, he should have been more careful.

�I was just realizing that you were more concerned by the shadow hitokiri, than by my physical safety,� he dodged, with a giggle.

Saitoh smirked again. �And if you need a motherly eye on you, we might ask Hatsue to follow your unit. By the way, weren�t you supposed to be with your men, *inside*, and let us take care of the escaping traitors?�

�Didn�t you have enough to do? I was merely going after one of my targets. You were just unhappy, in case I reached first the object of your chase. I take that nobody got him?�

�I don�t think so. He�s mine to kill,� Saitoh warned, seriously.

�Maa, maa, Saitoh-san. I let you go after him, but I certainly won�t refuse a fight if I met coincidentally our assassin�This is only fair.�

Saitoh took a cigarette, lit it, and blew the smoke away with a snort. �Except that I am called to other duties more often than you are.�

�You�ll just have to compensate, with your fast thinking,� Okita concluded in a laugh, relieved as he managed to retain the coughing, this time. He re-sheathed his katana, and they walked back to the Ikedaya.

�Casualties?�

�One in my unit, Saitoh-san, as far as I know. Kondo-sama is leading. And yours?�

�None.�

�Here you are!� Harada greeted, coming into their direction, a few yards away from the inn. �How many escaped?�

�I let Nagakura checking with my men and his, yet, none got past us. And you?�

�Kondo is a bit pissed off. Nobody is able to find Katsura�s body.�

Saitoh and Okita exchanged a look.

�Every apple has a worm,� the small man sighed, philosophical.

�Whatever, the man is a lousy fighter. Not such a danger,� Harada exclaimed, tagging along with them, as they resumed their march towards the inn, oblivious of the fact that they didn�t seem to share his opinion. �Anyway, Kondo decided that we were going to the festival.�

Okita smiled. �I see. We are going to parade, too.�

�We crushed Choshu. Our casualties are minimal. That�s a reason to celebrate. Saitoh, what is this dark face you have on now? Are you going to be a killjoy again?�

The third captain didn�t listen to Harada�s exasperated question. Yes, they had triumphed, and personally, he took pride into the fact that his unit didn�t suffer any loss, just a few wounds. Yet, watching the now devastated building that had been the Ikedaya, he had the definite feeling that they had missed something.

More exactly, someone. He finally smirked. He would fight that man, sooner or later.

***

Tokio woke up suddenly out of her nightmare, gasping for air. She tightened one hand on the tangled sheets, the other wiping some sweat off her forehead. It wasn�t real.

She breathed, steadily, trying to get rid of the dim anguish, when some faraway noise reached her ears. A horse galloping. Intrigued, she stood up, and reached for her teapot, pouring some tea into a cup, drinking by small sips, until she retrieved her calm.

She had barely finished, when she heard people talking. She stepped carefully out of her room, on the engawa, to see two men hurrying on the other side, towards Matsudaira�s study. She could discern that the room was still lit. She advanced until the edge, and recognized one of the figures.

Saitoh Hajime, again.

He stopped suddenly, and looked around until he spotted her, too. She froze. There was something about him�that wild aura that she had felt in the woods. She could barely see his features, but she could feel it. The other man, a servant, was already rasping at the shoji, and her father appeared, to welcome the visitor. She broke the eye contact, to retreat in the shadows. What was happening? Why was he arriving in the middle of the night? Did they punish the responsible for the attack? Were there new developments?

�You shouldn�t be here, Tokio-san,� a venomous voice whispered behind her.

She contained a movement of panic, and turned around, to face Michiko. The governess was glaring at her, her lips severely thinned.

�I needed some fresh air,� Tokio explained, calmly, yet annoyed at the woman�s presence and inquisitorial look.

�Go back to your room; this isn�t a correct behavior to wander outside at night.�

Tokio repressed a sharp answer, still disturbed by her nightmare, yet not enough to lose completely her self-control. She wouldn�t commit that mistake again, especially after Aiko�s remark tonight.

�I leave you to your spying round,� she let out, nevertheless, after she turned her back on the uptight shepherd.

She closed her room shoji, the feeling of claustrophobia taking over her again. If being locked in the residence, and guarded, wasn�t enough, Michiko felt now compelled to make nightly rounds. How would she be able to get out?

She had to find a way to leave this place, though. She had been waiting for so long to be in Kyoto, just for this. She tried to cling to the hope that the menace against them disappearing, she would get freer of her moves, soon.

The dim anguish didn�t disappear, though. Reiko was right. Red moon announced nothing good.
TBC�
Author�s notes:
Mito ideology: philosophical movement, born in the 17th century, based on Confucianism, criticizing the Tokugawa Bakufu. The Mito partisans were criticizing strongly the presence of the foreigners on the Japanese soil, authorized by the Bakufu after 1853, hence it was the ideological background of the Ishin movement, and particularly the radical wing, Sonno Joi (�revere the emperor, expel the barbarians�). The Joi started to attack the Westerners and their interests by 1864. The responsible, when caught, were condemned to seppuku by their Daimyo. That was the fate of most of them in 1864-66, when the Bakufu authorized a British led coalition to operate a punitive expedition towards Choshu, rallying temporarily the Satsuma Daimyo to the Bakufu. The Ishin movement was afterwards moderate, lead by samurai like Yamagata, Okubo, and Ito, though Saigo Takamori was active until after the Meiji revolution. (This is a very shallow summary, the political context of the Bakumatsu being extremely complex)
Commoners: the Choshu clan was the first to accept commoners in its ranks.
Katsura Kogoro didn�t show up at Ikedaya (for those who didn�t read the Jinchuu ark), this explains why they don�t find the body. The scene takes place just after the end, and it seemed believable to me that they didn�t ask every man if they had fought Katsura. Hence the assumption of Harada (^-^).
Yes, yes, a little Oni apparition (^-^). Nenji is the real name of Okina. Some others will show up later (^-^). A/M nutcase here *winks*.
As for the previous chapter�s nutcase, she seems to have attracted attention, her action time will come soon�don�t worry (or be afraid�). *mwahahaha*
And yes, I�m going to take care of Okita�s love life (^-^). He wasn�t married, but there was a rumor that he had an affair with the daughter of a Kyoto�s pharmacist or doctor, until the end of his life. I took the doctor�s daughter option(^-^).
A bunch of new OCs, or allusions, all this has a purpose, of course.
Thanks, as always, to Firuze, L.Sith and Mary-Ann, for their comments and suggestions.
Next chapter: Saitoh experiences mood changes�.wonder why (lol). Darkness troubles the pure water of the Kyomizu Temple, and tragedy strikes. (what? Can�t I be a bit melodramatic? (^-^)).
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Irresistible