Loyalties

The Wandering Pen

Chapter 4

When Souji approached the gates at Mibu Temple, shouts were ringing out from the dojo where Saito was teaching kendo. The guards at the gate were from the 5th and 8th units, one with a bandage around his head and the other with an arm in a sling. Both bowed as he rode through and he waved cheerfully. Tetsunosuke jumped off the engawa near Hijikata's room and ran out to greet him and pepper him with questions.

"…and the Oni-fukuchou wants to see you right away," he finished.

Okita chuckled. "He's been on you again, huh? I was going to get cleaned up first."

"I just lit the fire under the furo for you, so it'll take some time to warm up."

Okita's eyebrow went up. "How did you know I was back? I just came in."

"Suzumu-san saw you coming into town. We had a watch set up in case you needed help. Here, I'll take your horse."

"Give him lots of oats. He worked hard. Thanks for the medicine box - it was pretty handy. And if you don't mind putting things back where they came from…"

"Including the girls' jewelry?" Tetsu asked slyly.

"That's part of 'things'," Okita said blandly. Honestly, the way everyone around here assumed he didn't like women was starting to get annoying. He just didn't like overly forward women, and that seemed to be the only kind they ever attracted. Well, and geisha, too, but he didn't like overly practiced women, either. Sweet, honest, competent women, like his sisters. That's what he liked. He was uncomfortable with any other kind.

"Why don't you do it?" Tetsu's voice was just short of taunting.

"Because I have to meet with the oni-fukuchou, remember? You don't want to make me late, do you?" Okita's superior smile turned to a laugh as Tetsu blanched and hurried away with the horse. It was good to outmaneuver Puppy Boy. Not that it didn't happen on a regular basis - Tetsu was notoriously transparent - but if he ever couldn't, it might be time to consider seppuku.

"Hijikata-san! Oh, and Yamanami-san, too. Two of my favorite people!" he sang out as he entered Hijikata's room. The playful sparkle in his eyes gave them the look of a misty morning with the sun just starting to peek through. The fog of smoke from Hijikata's pipe helped with the illusion.

"Souji-kun, you're back earlier than I expected," Yamanami smiled, pushing up his glasses.

"Report!" Hijikata rapped.

"Toshi-san, you're so business-like." Okita leaned over to give the Demon Vice-Commander a quick hug, just to be extra annoying. It looked like Hijikata had woken up on the wrong side of the futon again. The man was positively grumpy in the morning. "You need to relax a bit."

"Gah! Go sit over there; you stink. What did you do, have the horse drag you there and back after a four day drinking binge?"

"Well, I was going to clean up first, but someone ordered me to report."

There was a scratch at the door and with permission, the kitchen girls brought in trays with breakfast. Kohana, a moon-faced girl with sly eyes and pouty lips, jingled her bracelet a little more noticeably around Souji as she served him.

"What was that all about?" Hijikata muttered after they'd left.

"I have no idea," Okita said quickly. Maybe too quickly, based on Yamanami's smile.

***

Three hours later, he was awakened by a loud voice calling his name and a hand shaking his shoulder.

'Kondo-san's voice,' he thought muzzily. 'Did I oversleep? Am I late for practice?'

The hand had left off shaking and had pulled him into a sitting position by a grip in the collar of his sleeping yukata. He managed to remain that way even when the fist had let go.

"What?" he mumbled. A kimono hit him in the face, almost knocking him back again.

"I said, get dressed." Hakama in dark blue with thin white stripes followed the kimono. "Matsudaira-sama wants to meet you."

"Huh?"

Kondo stepped behind him and wrapped bear-like arms around his chest, heaving him to his feet. "Damn, Souji, you're not usually this hard to wake."

"Probably because he's only been asleep an hour," Hijikata drawled, leaning against the doorway. "What's the rush?"

"If the Daimyo wants to meet him, he's got to go."

"I'm sure he'll make a good impression, exhausted like he is," Hijikata snorted. "You should have delayed."

"You don't delay daimyo," Kondo said. "Is that fundoshi clean?" His question to Okita was anxious and slightly distracted.

"Yes, Kondo-san. I put it on after my bath and I've been too tired to even fart in it." Souji blinked at his commanding officer and then at Hijikata, who was trying not to laugh. "I can't believe I just said that. I've been hanging around Sano too much."

"Don't say it to Matsudaira-sama," Hijikata advised, giving in.

"Thanks, I won't. Nice to know I get sound advice from my commanders." Souji was smiling and shaking his head as he tied the hakama in place. He caught the distinctive Shinsengumi haori as Kondo tossed it to him, light blue with white, triangular "mountain stripes" down the edge of the sleeves.

"Here, tie your hair up or Matsudaira-sama will think we employ girls." Hijikata grabbed the long swath of damp hair and held it up until Souji could find a tie and do it up in the high tail that many of the younger generation of samurai preferred.

"We do employ girls," Kondo said.

"All right, he'll think we employ cross-dressers."

"We do that, too," Okita grinned, and swayed back as Hijikata threw a half-hearted punch at him.

"Don't forget your swords." Kondo had swept up the Kiyomitsu and wakizashi from their stand.

"The Kiyomitsu's broken," Okita reminded him, nodding at the sword he'd been borrowing from Saito.

"So? It looks better. And you're going to meet Matsudaira-sama, not fight him."

When they left the compound five minutes later, Souji was awake, if not rested, and dressed in full regalia. Half his troop filed in behind them as an honor guard, and as they strode through the city, he was reminded of the disaster he'd described to Gen. At least it wasn't repeating itself today.

The gate guards at Matsudaira's estate were the same as when he'd been there earlier, and he knew the obnoxious one recognized him by the sudden flare of panic in the man's ki. Souji just told Shimada to give the men the order to stand and wait, and then followed Kondo and their escort through the gates as the orders rang out behind him. He didn't spare any of the guards a second glance.

Of course they had to wait. Even though they were there at the Lord's order, it didn't mean Lord Matsudaira was practicing his calligraphy while waiting for Kondo to return. A steady stream of officials and secretaries went in and out of the room. The shoji were rarely closed for longer than ten minutes before one group would go out and another would go in. Okita stood for a while, but when lack of sleep really started catching up to him, he leaned against one of the pillars and watched the comings and goings through drowsy, half-closed eyes. Then the shoji opened again and Kondo's hiss brought Souji upright, blinking with an attempt at alertness.

Lord Matsudaira was seated on a platform at the end of the room, in formal dress of heavy silk. Unlike many more flamboyant daimyo, the only embroidery he sported was the mon of his family on each breast – a circle from which three hollyhock leaves appeared to grow, the tips almost touching in the center. His face was long and narrow, with a proportionately long nose and full lips. He wore his hair in the traditional tonsure and topknot, and it made his ears seem to stick out like small fans. Nobunori was seated on a lower platform slightly in front of him, and Matsudaira leaned forward for a short, low-voiced conversation that was over by the time Okita and Kondo stopped at the requisite distance and made their formal bows, finally sitting upright in seiza to await the lord's pleasure. Okita couldn't resist a wink and a faint half smile at Nobunori, who was looking entirely too rested and excited for all he'd been through. But when he returned his attention to Lord Matsudaira, he had the feeling the lord had noted the exchange, brief as it had been.

It took a surprisingly short time to get through the pleasantries before Matsudaira was grilling Souji on the particulars of the mission. Okita stuck to the facts, and went with bare-boned ones at that, but the probing questions made him realize two things: Nobunori must have told his adopted father everything in exacting detail and Lord Matsudaira was nobody's fool. Of course, to walk the thin line between committed success and over- or under-extended failure in controlling the political situation in volatile Kyoto took someone with a fair amount of skill. He went over the entire twelve hours or so from the time they'd gotten the message to the time he'd turned the boy over to Kondo, recalling details of accent, wording, dress, and equipment that he'd noticed without consciously thinking about them at the time.

"You are certain he was the fencing instructor for the han?"

"Yes, Sir, he was very definite about that," Souji said, while Kondo tried to hide a smile. "In fact, he was very proud of it."

"And you find this amusing, Commander?"

"Actually, yes, Sir. Souji's been besting fencing instructors from other han since he was twelve." There was not inconsiderable pride in Kondo's voice. After all, he and his father had trained the younger man.

Matsudaira's only reaction was a slight raising of one eyebrow. Nobunori's delighted grin and shining eyes were more gratifying.

"And did you kill these vermin from Kiyosue?"

"Well, no, Sir, I didn't. You see, I had no sword because I was trying to appear to be a farmer, lower class merchant…somebody just trying to get by. I didn't have a real bokken, either, only a wooden walking stick that I could use like a bokken, but since I didn't know the strength of the wood and I had several foes to fight, I opted for simply knocking them out. Had I used the strength necessary to kill them, I might have broken my stick and compromised the mission. I apologize for having taken no more revenge than that for your honor."

That was the truth as far as it went. He had no intention of saying that he understood those men. He understood friends that were closer than family – he had that, too. Kondo was the father figure who led the group, Yamanami and Hijikata the older brothers who guided that he listened to, and the three jokers – Harada, Nagakura, and Todo – were the brothers he played and argued with. Saito was somewhere between the latter two groups, since he was mature enough to pay attention to and too serious not to tease. Even the Ichimura boys were becoming little brothers. He understood the emotions, too. The anger, frustration, and fear of the kidnappers were what he saw frequently in the streets of Kyoto, and while it didn't make their actions right, he knew all about the leader making the decision and the others following. It was why he and the rest had followed Kondo to Kyoto. They were family. They stuck together.

Matsudaira eyed him thoughtfully. "One does wonder, then, why you ventured into such a situation knowing that your weapon was so inferior."

Definitely not a fool. "Well, my original plan involved extracting your son by stealth, but as I rode, I realized that that approach presented some problems. If your son was wounded or too tired to go very far, it made sense to keep the horse along instead of picketing it out somewhere. I also thought that they would be further out than they actually were, based on what our spy had said. They probably camped early because of the wounded man's condition, although no one actually said. He was in a bad way when I got there."

"And though he was an enemy, you gave him medicine."

"It helped with the cover story, and allowed me closer. It would have been kinder to cut off his head, but…" Okita shrugged. "That wouldn't have gone over well. I'd thought that with his passing, I could get everyone happily drunk and unconscious and then sneak out, but they were already on to me by then. So then it was the next plan – fight them and make them unconscious, and then leave. That one worked."

"And if it hadn't?"

"Then I would have found a way to kill whoever got in the way. And then leave. I had a tanto or I could have sacrificed the stick and picked up one of their weapons, even something from the fire, but none of them were that good. I apologize for not killing them."

Matsudaira snorted. "Nonsense. You had several possible plans ready for whatever situation you might have met. You showed prudence and good judgment in freeing my son and seeing first to his safety. For this, you have my thanks and my high regard. To show my appreciation…"

He motioned to one of his hatamoto, an older samurai with excruciatingly rigid posture who bowed and approached Okita, a long bundle resting across his hands. He bowed to Okita, dropped to his knees, and laid the bundle in front of the Shinsengumi captain. He bowed again from his knees to Okita, then stood and bowed deeply to Matsudaira, and then backed off to the edge of the room again. Nobunori was leaning so far forward on his cushion in anticipation that Souji thought he might fall over. Embarrassing, to be sure, but maybe not so much as not knowing whether it was proper to open the present now or merely thank Matsudaira and open it later. He'd never received a gift from a daimyo before.

"You may look at it," Matsudaira said, with some amusement as he caught the sidelong glances between Okita and Kondo.

Okita lifted it a little closer and then untied the cord binding heavy silk around it. He pushed back the material and found, as he'd suspected from the shape and weight, a sword. It was sheathed in plain black lacquer, the grip wrapped in rayskin and black silk cord.

"Bring it out, so we may all admire its beauty," Matsudaira said softly.

Okita lifted it and started to pull the blade free, but the first thing he noticed was the artistic pattern of the hamon, which looked like three wavy lines with evenly spaced figures that appeared to be a fan on the middle line. Or a floating half-flower… It prompted him to look at horimono in front of the tsuba. Usually carvings of deities or mythical figures for ceremonial swords, this one had a tiny Imperial chrysanthemum crest.

"Kiku-ichimonji…" he gulped and slid it back home. He set it back on the silk and lifted it away from him, setting it closer to Matsudaira before bowing deeply down to the floor. "My Lord, I cannot accept such a precious gift. It is more than this poor soldier is worth."

"There are not gifts enough to repay you for bringing back my son alive and safe," Matsudaira replied. "That you recognized the blade so quickly and understand its value shows that I have chosen correctly in giving it to you. Remember that Norimune's masterpiece should never be taken lightly. Use it in honor to protect Japan against her enemies."

Okita bowed again, then straightened, misty grey eyes shining and a fierce, eager smile of delight on his lips. "I will, Matsudaira-sama. Always."

***

Eight months later…

Okita Souji sat on the engawa off the back of his room, legs dangling casually off the edge of the porch, hakama bunched haphazardly around them, and feet bare. A cord held back the sleeves of his kimono, but his hair still fell loose down his back. In a little while, he'd tie it up and go on patrol, but for now it was good to let the slight breeze play freely with it. Beside him lay the Kiku-ichimongi Norimune, the ripple and flower motif of the hamon winking at him in the alternate sun and shade of a nearby cherry tree, as if it were trying to convey sly secrets. It was an old sword – ancient, even; who knew what kind of stories it had to tell? Occasional petals from flowers past their prime drifted down, adding an artistic touch to the newly cleaned and oiled blade, but Souji's gaze didn't hold its usual mixture of awe and pride when he looked at it.

So much had happened since he'd received it: they'd moved from Mibu village to their new headquarters in the Nishi Hongan Temple, thereby angering the monks and unsettling the whole troop. Word was that they'd move again once the monks finished building a special compound just for them. The move had almost necessitated giving away Saizo and his siblings, but they'd managed find enough space to build a place to keep the rowdy, growing piglets here. He thought that perhaps they should have built more pens, since some of the new recruits seemed very similar.

The Ishin Shishi had started filtering back into Kyoto after the beginning of the new year, making the patrols more frequent and admittedly more interesting. Even Battousai had returned, or the man they believed was Battousai, although he was fighting with them openly now. Saito swore the ki had the same feel. Okita was disappointed that he hadn't had a chance to cross swords with the former assassin yet, but it would come. There was a new assassin now, one whose kills seemed more brutal and less precise than what they'd seen before Ikedaya.

Then Yamanami-san had deserted, a horrid surprise, and Okita had been sent after him. He'd tried to let the older man escape – begged him to, in fact – but he had returned to perform honorable seppuku, with Okita as his second. Souji's eyes still welled with tears when he thought about it, but he couldn't let it show. He was captain of the first unit after all and had to show his support for the rules.

Then there had been the flu that wouldn't quit. It had sapped his energy, and he still hadn't regained it, even though some days were better than others. He woke up sweating even on the coolest nights and the cough was still with him months later. Everyone had been down with something off and on over the winter. Between that and the usual injuries, Kondo had brought in a doctor – an old friend of his – to give everyone an examination. Souji hadn't needed a professional verdict to know that he'd had no ordinary flu. He hadn't even let the man say it. He didn't want anyone else to know, although he suspected Hijikata had guessed. But for as long as he could hide it, he would. He'd follow the doctor's advice about eating, sleeping, and hygiene, and act as if nothing was wrong. He wanted no special consideration; nothing more or less than the other captains got for as long as he could keep the contagion in his lungs under control.

All in all, it had been a busy eight months. Too busy to remember a promise to a nine-year-old boy he'd only met once. Until now. Now he remembered.

His eyes returned to the bright blade, winking at him with its secrets. Maybe laughter.

"Too late to bless us now, neh?" he asked softly, one finger stroking the silk cord on its grip. Then he leaned back on his hands to watch pale pink petals drifting against blue, blue sky.

"Always lucky," he mused. "Good and bad…"

~ Owari ~

--------------

Author Notes:

I hope you've enjoyed this. Please let me know – I'm not above begging! Especially since it seems to work. ;)

In answer to Twilight Dusk, who asked if Souji was anorexic or just ate like a three-year-old - yep, he eats like a toddler. He was known to leave in the middle of banquets and there's some speculation that the uneven diet left him open to infection. The love of sweets is, as far as anyone can tell, a fiction but it does paint a picture of a 19th century junk food junkie. Some also postulate that his poor diet and the heat of the day caused his fainting at Ikedaya, not the tuberculosis. The manga/anime depicts the TB taking him down and it was quite an impressive bit of story-telling (I won't spoil it if you haven't seen it) but I am giving him a few extra months of grace from the disease.

For Skywiseskychan, who asked about Okita's height - I wondered if anyone was going to catch me up on that, seriously. For some reason, all the manga artists like to portray Okita as being younger and shorter than anyone except Nagakura, who is also depicted as short. Todo is usually accepted as being the youngest. In reality, Okita was estimated to be about 5'7" - don't ask me to translate that into centimeters! - which put him taller that Kondo (who supposedly came to his chin) and even Hijikata. That made him tall for his time, as well. Oddly enough, Kenshin, from RK, is depicted as being very short, but at 5'2", he was about average for his time. Okita's not exactly short in Peacemaker, but not particularly tall, either. I freely admit I take a bit of artistic license with everyone's canon, but that's because I like to mix what I can tease out of history with canon and what pops out of my odd little mind. Of course, history also says Okita wasn't much to look at, but on that one, I'm going with the manga artists!

~Pen

Vocabulary:

Bakufu – literally "tent government", run by the Shogun and closely related houses and political partners.

Bokken – wooden training sword

Engawa – the porch that surrounds most Japanese homes

Fukuchou – vice-commander

Fundoshi – loincloth

Furo – the tub in which the soaking part of the Japanese bath is taken

Hakama – the full skirt or wide-legged split trousers used by swordsmen to hide the movement of their legs

Hamon – the transition between the region of harder steel of the blade edge and the softer steel of the back of the sword created by applying clay during the hardening process. Less clay and the blade cools quicker and is harder but more brittle; more clay and it cools slower and is more resilient.

Haori – the loose, wide-sleeved jacket worn over kimono

Hatamoto – high-ranking samurai; the daimyo's right-hand men

Horimono – a carving or engraving on Japanese swords, usually of the ceremonial kind.

Ki – life-force

Kiku-ichimonji – A collective name given to the Japanese swords made by the thirteen swordsmiths who were in attendance to the Emperor Go-Toba in 1208. Each swordsmith was in attendence on the Emperor for a month and spent the time instructing others on the making of superior quality swords. The swordsmiths of the Fukuoka School traditionally inscribed only the character "Ichi" (one) on the tang (the part that fits inside the handle) as their signature. They further received permission to append the Imperial chrysanthemum crest (kiku) on the tang, thus their swords are known collectively as "Kiku-ichimonji". I put the crest above the tsuba as well, to give Okita a visual clue about the quality of the sword he has just received. Truly "artistic license". 

Kiyomitsu Kaga – Okita's original sword, made by Kiyomitsu in Kaga province. The tip was broken off during the Ikedaya affair.

Kumichou – captain

Miburo – a derogatory name for the Shinsengumi

Mimawarigumi – A group similar to the Shinsengumi but under the authority of the Shoshidai.

Oni - demon

Seiza – Formal sitting posture – legs folded under, knees together, tops of feet on the floor, and sitting on one's heels

Shieikan - Kondo's dojo in the Tama region of Tokyo before he left for Kyoto

Shinai – bamboo training sword

Shogushoku – Protector of Kyoto – Lord Matsudaira Katamori's official title. This position was created and superimposed over the existing political structure for the purpose of recovering public order in the city, under the influence of the "patriots". What the Soshidai had not been able to accomplish through the police force and courts, the Shogushoku was to achieve through military means.

Shoshidai – Governor-General of Kyoto – Lord Matsudaira Sadaaki's official title. He was Katamori's younger brother, and he was responsible for maintaining good relations and open communication between the shogunate and the imperial court.

Souchou – commander (although I've seen other words used for this position also. I don't speak Japanese, so if this is wrong, someone please correct me).

Tsuba – the guard between the blade and the grip.