Almost Home, Already Home
(or, The Ghost - Chapter 6)

They had been apart for two years, and for more than half of that time, Chizuru had believed that Saitō was dead. She'd been shocked—afraid, even—when he'd turned up three weeks ago at the gate of Doctor Matsumoto's home. It had taken some time to accept that he was alive, and Chizuru knew she wasn't wholly recovered from either their abrupt parting, or their impossible reunion. And yet, here they were.

In the literal sense, here was a small inn on the outskirts of one of the many small towns that dotted the road between northeastern Japan and Edo, now called Tokyo. In the state-of-being sense, here meant promised to be married, and travelling together in order to build a future together. In the most immediate sense, here meant standing hand-in-hand in a small inn room, freshly washed, and warm from more than just the heat of the bath.

Saitō slid the door closed behind them without releasing Chizuru's hand, and then pulled her tightly against him, heedless of the way that their thin yukata concealed nothing of his arousal. Chizuru had time for just one quick, wondering breath before a strong hand slid into her damp hair to cradle the back of her head, and Saitō's lips met hers in a fierce, demanding kiss that quickly stole what little air she had. She was suddenly reminded of the first evening they'd spent on the road together.

"Saitō…san…" It was surprisingly easy to ignore any immediate embarrassment in the fire of that kiss. She could feel her cheeks burning, but also the way that her gut tightened and her toes tried to curl inward despite the obvious risk of falling over.

There was no answer, as he was pressing kisses down her neck to her shoulder, while his body called to her in other ways; was it wrong to be so aware of warm skin and taut muscle? It finally occurred to her to put her arms around him, in order to keep their bodies as close as possible.

Saitō's lips and teeth were leaving bruises now, and it was as if small shocks were running across her body with each love bite. She'd agreed to share his bed tonight—wanted to—but it was abruptly clear to her that he'd been holding himself tightly in check over the last two weeks of travel. Everything about him now communicated passionate longing; it was unexpected, though not unwelcome. She'd somehow—forgotten? partly suppressed?—that first evening; had put it down to the stress of the bandit attack.

"Mmmm… I… I'm sorry I didn't…" She wasn't sure what she was trying to express; regret for not being more aware? Fortunately, her inner narrative was becoming incoherent in the face of unexpected, exhilarating sensation. Her eyes drifted closed, and all she could hear was the sound of her own ragged breathing, and Saitō's kisses.

She gave a tiny shiver when her yukata was pushed down to bare her shoulders and upper arms. Saitō's hands on her soft skin were a little rough, but even that felt surprisingly good, and she drew in a quick breath in reaction to the rush of heat that warmed her inside and out. When he loosened his grip at the sound, she ventured to open her eyes, curiosity overcoming natural shyness.

Before she could make out his expression in the wavering light of the single lantern, Saitō pulled her close to his chest, so that she was unable to move or see past his arms. She felt him trying to slow and deepen his ragged breathing, although the sound of it was almost lost in the pounding of his heart under her ear. He was striving for control, she thought, and wondered what she'd done to cause him concern. She hadn't wanted him to stop what he was doing—apart from anything else, it had been very reassuring to be desired in such a way. It had eased some of lingering hurt from his stinging rejection two years before.

"Gomenasai… gomenasai…" Breathless apologies, murmured into her hair, while his heart continued to beat hard against his ribs.

Chizuru managed to wrench herself partly free of the tight embrace. She still couldn't look up at him properly, but she could make herself heard.

"No, don't—don't apologize—it's not what I want, and there's no need."

"But… I don't want to frighten you… or hurt you somehow…"

"We've been over this!"

"Not quite… this."

"Saitō-san—"

"And that, too—"

"I want—what?" Her eyes were adjusting to the gloom, and she could make out his tight lips.

"I—we are—promised to be married, yes?"

"…Yes?" Now she was confused, as well as frustrated.

"So… it would be more appropriate for you to call me by my first name? At least"—hurrying on—"that is what I want."

Chizuru couldn't tell if he was stalling for time—to compose himself—or if it had truly been weighing on his mind. For her part, she felt uncomfortable about using his first name, although he had a valid point. Either way, if she did as he asked, then maybe he would finally listen properly to her. And… it was an intimacy not to be undervalued.

"Hajime-san?" The arms around her tightened, as though he were startled—which was odd, since he had asked, after all.

"Chizuru… just my name is, ah, is fine." He sounded curiously breathless again, almost as if he'd been kissing her. Apparently, this had truly mattered to him.

"H-Hajime?" His solemnity was starting to make her feel all the embarrassment she'd been keeping at bay.

"…Yes. Um, could you please repeat that? I… didn't hear it very well."

"Hajime." It was a slight struggle not to add an honorific, but at least she had his full attention now. In fact, he had loosened his hold and was staring fixedly at her. "Hajime, it was okay… what you—we—were doing. Um… I wish you hadn't stopped." She did her best, but the last part was barely audible; as the immediate flush of desire receded, it was difficult not to give in to shyness. For the first time since they'd returned from the bath, her skin felt a little chilled.

"I thought"—Saitō hesitated, then gently stroked her hair. "I realized that I might have presumed too much…"

"You didn't—what do you even mean?"

She could feel his embarrassment, and suspected he was blushing. His reply came haltingly.

"Well… you might have misunderstood… might have thought that I would just—just hold you."

Chizuru had to listen closely to hear the last few words. She processed his meaning, and then almost laughed, although it would have been a combination of amusement and—again—frustration.

"…Hajime." She curled her hands tightly in the loose fabric of his yukata. "I am not a child. I did not misunderstand what you asked, earlier." Resolutely, she worked to set aside ingrained modesty; of what use was that now? "I want… I want to…" She couldn't form the words, but it was less embarrassment than fear of giving offence by being too forward. Even while she searched for a solution, it occurred to her that Saitō had probably felt the same way.

"Chizuru?"

"Yes?" She was relieved to be rescued—she hoped—from her dilemma.

"Do you promise that you don't mind… this? I had meant to wait."

"Wait until we reached Edo—Tokyo—or until we were living together, or married?"

"Yes." He didn't say which, but it didn't matter.

"But now you don't want to wait?" Well, neither do I. It might be reckless, but she'd already done so much waiting, and not just in the last two years. During their time together with the Shinsengumi, he'd been careful to set her at a distance; it had forced her to treasure those moments when he'd stayed too close, for too long, or shown a need to care for her that couldn't be fully explained by orders or duty. And on top of that, he'd been gone for six months while spying on Itou-san's faction after they split off.

Before Saitō could respond to her question—which was mostly rhetorical—she stopped trying to peer up at his face, and instead snuggled into his bare chest. Greatly daring, she pressed a soft kiss against his skin, just below the collar-bone. Ha! She shouldn't feel smug, but… his body reacted to her touch, and she couldn't help it. Encouraged, she released her hold on his yukata and slid one hand beneath the fabric along his stomach and side, enjoying the warmth.

"Chizuru…" He stood stock still—mostly—while she mapped out the planes and curves of his upper and mid torso, although she could hear his breath catch, and his heartbeat accelerate again. Strange how touching him like this made her own breathing uneven, and she could hear the rush of blood in her ears.

A short time passed, and then Saitō picked her up and wordlessly carried her over to his futon, cradling her against him so as not to disturb what she was doing. She thought he looked almost feverish, especially about the eyes, but his movements were smooth and sure. He knelt without effort, pushed the coverlet aside, and set her down on the thin mattress, stilling her hands and then untying and discarding her simple obi with swift efficiency.

Chizuru found herself swallowing, and then moistening her lips, from nerves or excitement or both, but it was surprisingly easy to overcome long-ingrained habits of propriety in order to watch him strip out of his own clothing before he joined her on the futon, winding his legs around hers. He was watching her just as intently as she was watching him, she realized, and that made it more difficult not to look away. The point quickly became moot. A calloused palm caressed her stomach, before moving up to gently—carefully, even—stroke the soft skin of one breast. This time, he didn't stop when she gasped, and she squirmed involuntarily as the caress became more insistent and heat washed across her once more. Then she was being ruthlessly kissed, and her eyes closed despite herself, even as she felt the weight of his body settle onto hers.

It was profoundly satisfying to touch and be touched. It was another way to give form to all the things that had remained unacknowledged between them for so long, even before they'd parted. Was that why she hadn't minded being kissed by a ghost? The wayward thought made Chizuru want to laugh, even though most of her attention was on more immediate matters.

Saitō brought his lips right to her ear, and the soft warmth made her quiver. "Chizuru… you didn't answer my question." His voice was very quiet, but also deeper than usual, and a little rough around the edges. "Do you promise that this is what you want? I would like… to hear it."

For a moment, Chizuru was too entranced by the sound to make sense of the actual words. Then she rushed to answer. "Oh! Of course—I mean yes, yes I want this—I promise."

She sensed a flicker of hesitation from him, and then his mouth brushed lightly across her ear, kindling sparks that made her yearn to be held even closer, if that were possible. I want to be yours, she told him silently. "Hajime…" she said aloud.

She hadn't expected a response—at least, not in words. His lips and hands had already returned to exploring her body, as though seeking some last piece of reassurance that all was well. Or maybe there was no deeper meaning than an expression of desire. Either was fine—better than fine.

"…Beloved." Very soft, but very clear, and full of all the emotion that he so rarely expressed.

Ah! Such a word, to be spoken aloud, by Saitō to her… It made the wanting all the fiercer. It must have shown in her face, or movement, or the involuntary sound that escaped her, because there were no more words after that, and no more hesitation. Not that Chizuru had felt any—not really—since that first, overwhelming shock of recognition had transformed into acceptance.

Much later—so much later that the sky had taken on the first grey pallor of winter dawn—Chizuru stirred against her lover's side, delighting in the weight of his arm draped across her under the heavy winter blanket. She wasn't sure if they'd slept, or merely drowsed, but for her it marked the first morning that she'd greeted without grief in a long time. Even after he'd reappeared, even after they'd left together on this journey, she'd still woken every day to the pain of anxiety and loss—and she might again, she knew that. But right now, all she felt was a contentment so profound that she almost wept.

They would go to Tokyo, and Saitō would find work, and she would establish a small medical practice—or maybe work for a time under a local doctor to acquire both skills and a reputation—and they would get married. Nagakura-san would be alive and well, and might even attend the wedding. And maybe they would have children—she hoped so. If nothing else, she intended to ensure that there was every opportunity to create such children. Her cheeks reddened at the boldness of her thoughts, but it didn't matter. She had no regrets—not for her reckless promise to tie her future to a man that common sense said she barely knew, and certainly none for the loss of her so-called innocence.

Saitō's arm moved down from her shoulders to just beneath her breasts, drawing her closer so that her back was pressed tightly to his chest. She wished that she could see his face, but otherwise had no complaints about being tucked against him in this manner.

"…Are you well, Chizuru?" The question was more important to him than the calm words and tone might indicate.

Chizuru smiled to herself. "I am very well, Hajime."

"Ah… I see."

After waiting politely to see if he had more to say, Chizuru moistened her lips and summoned up the resolve to put her new-found plan into action. She couldn't miss that he was aroused, and she guessed that he wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to act on that arousal. And with a human girl, it might be a kindness to refrain, she conceded. However, for better or for worse, she wasn't human.

"I would be… that is… I wouldn't mind, Hajime."

Saitō tensed behind her, and then slowly relaxed again. When he bent to nuzzle her neck and shoulder, Chizuru thought she could feel a smile on his lips to match her own.

"I see. Thank you for telling me."

In the end, they decided to take a day off from their journey, even though they were not far from their goal. Rest, and the use of a bath, were powerful inducements. If Saitō seemed a little red when he returned from arranging a second night's lodging with the innkeeper, Chizuru pretended not to notice.

[END]