Fic: Kuon [Eternity] 1/2
Kuon [Eternity] 1/2
Mononofu Shiroki Tora; Saito Hajime/Iinuma Sadakichi, PG-13
Written for smallfandombang
MASTER POST
Act I.
Wood planks sticking out of the grass-covered earth were lined before him like crippled warriors barely hanging on to their remaining strength. The names engraved on every piece burned through his cornea, bestirring the virulent pain he had long buried deep in his heart.
Beyond the graves and past the curved expanse of the hill sat old structures marked with fifteen-year-old war scars - scars that were poorly hidden behind masks of meticulous renovation. Vestiges of the past lingered on the scenery framed by the soft blue sky.
With his eyes closed, his mind traveled back to what once occurred in that place, memories so vivid that he could almost hear the cries of the wounded, the incessant clanging of swords, the unsettling silence of death. Anguished voices echoed in his ears, screaming his name. Sadakichi! Sadakichi! Sadakichi! And his eyes snapped open.
His legs wobbled and everything around him started spinning and spinning and-
The strong arm coiled around his waist served as a steady foundation, stilling him, holding him in place. Warm breath caressed the back of his neck as Saito Hajime whispered, "Hey. Are you feeling well?" This man, who had always been the stable facet in his unstable world, was the sole reason why he found the sane will to set foot on this cold, hard ground.
"Yes." Sadakichi blinked against the sun's rays, noticing for the first time the sakura petals spiraling down to the ground. "Yes, I'm fine."
Hajime continued to watch him with worried eyes, like he could crumble any moment. "I shouldn't have urged you to come here."
"I wanted to come. I had to." Words laced with honesty, true in all aspects. Though his heart was still weighed with remorse and regret, Sadakichi believed it was time to face the ghosts that had been haunting him for the past fifteen years. The same ghosts he had inadvertently left behind since the soles of his jika-tabi last touched the soil of Iimoriyama.
***
They were overtly outnumbered, cornered, the consequences of having underestimated the enemy hovered above them like a persistent shinigami. Escape was their top priority.
Cruel fate had forced them to break into two groups. It was under Gisaburo's orders that they move forth through the tunnel in hopes to remain imperceptible from leviathans' eyes, dark walls closing in like hungry monsters baring its fangs while imminent death were at their heels.
Fear clawed in his chest and the only thing that was keeping him from losing his mind was the fact Teijirou was right by his side.
Shigetarou was yelling something that sounded unintelligible in Sadakichi's ears. All his sense of hearing could process was the deafening explosion that reverberated from the distance.
The sound of a thousand footsteps thundered within the hollow passageway, too many that Sadakichi wasn't sure if it was a reflection of their hearts beating in fear or if it was a blatant warning that there were enemies in pursuit or waiting ahead with a trap.
They were warriors, Gisaburo reminded. "We are samurai entrusted to protect Aizu and our Lord," he added, his eyes burning with valor, though the hand he had wrapped around his sword's handle visibly trembled.
His words rang true, nonetheless, and it was those words that fueled Sadakichi's will to move forward, to raise his sword against the enemies, to live, to live to live.
It was on the slopes of Iimoriyama where they all stood to watch the bright orange flames dance over Aizu and around the castle, where they were rooted to witness the black smoke engulfing Tsurugajo. It was that dreadful sight that seized their will to fight. Their will to live vanished into the fog that crept along the hill.
The thought of the enemies having taken over the castle left them with one option.
Seppuku.
Their honor code flashed before them as vivid as the morning sun - the sun they knew they would never get to see again.
The blade of his sword glistened in greeting as Sadakichi raised his weapon, ready to plunge it into his gut. The blood of his friends - his Byakkotai comrades - already tainted the ground he knelt on. They were waiting for him, their voices ringing in his head. Sadakichi! Sadakichi! Sadakichi! So he pushed his sword into his body and the world faded around him.
***
The blade - sharp and cold and lethal - had done nothing but leave a ghostly touch in his flesh though the lingering memory it housed had left a permanent wound in his soul.
Why? His thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Why me? Why me? Why me?
It was a question he'd asked no one in particular, maybe he'd directed it to himself, but he had found no answer. For fourteen years, he kept asking, searching for the so-called 'purpose' for being the sole survivor from his unit. For reasons why he had, not by choice, betrayed his friends.
Until Saito Hajime showed up at his door fourteen years after the war ended.
Hajime didn't carry the answer with him, but it was through his straightforward nature that Sadakichi found the strength to revisit the past, the Aizu war, that dreadful, dreadful Battle of Tonoguchihara. It was through Hajime's tactless approach that Sadakichi had opened his eyes to a new understanding. It was through Hajime's sake-induced complicated and twisted personality that Sadakichi found the answer. He survived to tell their tale.
Now a year had passed and Hajime had been a constant figure in his asymmetric way of living. The blue among his dull gray and brown. The light - though dim and flickering - in his dark, dark world. The key to the door that led to a secret place where he could leave the past behind.
But.
There was no escape, wasn't there? He was too naïve to think there was. He had learned to forgive himself for his failure to the samurai bushido honor code. But that forgiveness was merely a forged notion so that he could break out of his fragile cage.
How could there be an escape from his convoluted history when he now stood where his friends' bones littered the ground?
No scream tore through him, no cry of agony clawing at his throat. Instead, a single tear rolled down his cheek as he stared at the graves in soundless lamentation.
I thought you were over this? He could hear Teijirou in his head, could always hear Teijirou, always lecturing, reminding him that he was alive, that he should keep on living.
Act II.
A string of scented smoke billowed from the incense burning in the corner of the room. The mixed aroma of wood and frankincense permeated the small space. The dim light from the wall lamp cast shadows that crawled over the walls like phantoms of the old Aizu clan.
Hajime lowered his tea cup on the table. His roiling gut craved for sake but present company might require his less inebriated existence so he settled for bancha.
Iinuma Sadakichi seemed at peace in his sleep, chest rising and falling with every breath. His yukata - dark gray and a complete contrast against the pristine white sheets of the futon - was slightly parted, showing off his porcelain-like collarbone. There were lines at the corners of his eyes that made him seem he had aged thirty years instead of fifteen.
Three hours had passed since Sadakichi had slipped into slumber. The visit to the graveyard must have drained what was left of his strength - physical, emotional and mental. Hajime had meant to rouse him for supper, but decided against it and let the boy rest.
When had he crossed the line and started caring?
Friendship was something Hajime never considered he would seek after the Boshin war. He traveled a lot, trying to rebuild a life he never had. Socialization was at the bottom of his to-do list. Then came the letter - a humble request for him to visit an old acquaintance.
This young man - once a boy - wasn't the type to leave a strong impact, if he were to be honest. A teenage samurai among 300, barely able to hold a stick without trembling, nothing quite like the genius swordsman his friend, Ito Teijirou, once was.
However, some divine providence had stepped in and Hajime felt there was an invisible rope that tied them together. He was a warrior who was tasked to aid the Daimyo of Aizu han, to protect Aizu and its people. Yet somehow he found himself often traipsing along the Byakkotai camp, eyes set on a certain boy.
***
Dark ominous clouds loomed over Aizu. Hajime felt a shift in the air as he walked through the gates of the Nisshinkan with Hijikata Toshizou.
Something heavy sat in the atmosphere, despite the gleeful commotion that greeted them when they walked into the dojo. A cacophony of cheers rose from a group of young boys - very young boys who all looked to be around 16 to 17 of age. If this was the new unit of samurai that the Daimyo intended to dispatch, then Hajime could conclude that Lord Matsudaira Katamori had truly lost his sanity.
Toshizou was the one who approached the boys. His ever intimidating aura already had a visible effect on the children. Their backs were stiff as the wooden swords in their hands, young eyes wavering with what Hajime clearly saw as fear.
There was one boy whose eyes held courage instead, whose demeanor demonstrated confidence. Ito Teijirou did make an impression that Toshizou would later admit he respected.
Once Toshizou had given his speech - laconic and always straight to the point - he approached one of the boys to ask if he understood what had been said. And Hajime would be lying if he claimed this boy hadn't completely stolen his attention.
Their paths, narrow as it may be, had been paved to cross, though Hajime tried to convince himself that the boy wasn't the reason he had wandered back to the Nisshinkan later that day. If he were to take these boys - these Byakkotai - under his wing once they were in the battlefield, it was only right for him to be curious on how well these young samurai could use their swords.
The boy was there, with Ito Teijirou, dueling with their bokken, wood clanking against wood - the difference with the sound of metal against metal was by a mile.
Once they were done and Teijirou left, Hajime made his presence known. The boy held a stance, wary and suspicious, his eyes never leaving Hajime.
It was amusing to the point that Hajime barked, "Name?" sternly to rile up the boy even more.
However, the boy held his ground, studying him with childlike curious eyes. "Iinuma Sadakichi," was the curt response that Hajime was certain the blame for the boy's discourtesy was on him.
"You have a terrible technique." Hajime eyed the piece of wood still clasped in the boy's hand. "You have a habit of holding the weapon too high. That leaves your lower half unguarded. That would be the first thing the enemy would notice and would know where to strike."
There was a small hint of frown, a barely noticeable crease between Iinuma's eyebrows and Hajime half expected him to retaliate, to challenge him on a duel. But the boy suddenly bent forward, eyes on the ground.
"Will you teach me the proper way to fight, Saito-san?"
It was a request so earnest that it coiled around Hajime's heart, one that was difficult to decline. And it was only when he said, "Very well," that the boy finally raised his head.
Hajime never considered himself a good teacher. He was an obedient student, a reliable leader, but never a good teacher. Yet Iinuma followed his instructions religiously. It was at the end of their impromptu lesson that he had noticed, up close, Iinuma looked a lot younger than the others.
It was impulsive curiosity that pushed him to ask, "How old are you?"
Iinuma's shoulders visibly stiffened but he was quick to hide his initial reaction.
"I am sixteen." Whatever expression he wore was lost to Hajime because the boy had lowered half his body, saying, "Arigatou gozaimasu, Saito-san," before dashing out with incredible speed.
***
The fine line between past and present blurs for a moment, creating a panoramic tableau in his mind. He was hauled back to reality when light and fleeting knock released him from the spell he was under. The rhythmic tapping had no hint of urgency so there was no reason for him to jump startled, but Hajime was lost in thought that such reaction was evoked.
It was one of the maidens at the inn. She had brought them their meals as Hajime had instructed. Similar to the ghosts of the warriors loitering along the streets of Aizu, she was quick to disappear behind the door before Hajime could express his gratitude. The analogy coaxed a derisive sound to escape through his nose.
Rousing Sadakichi had always been the easy part. The man still had samurai blood running through his veins that he was so alert, even when asleep. So when Hajime laid a hand on Sadakichi's shoulder, the young man jerked awake, eyes unfocused but wide open.
"It's late. We haven't had dinner. You must be hungry."
Sadakichi gazed up at him, irises dark as the night sky littered with glittering stars. His lips that bore the color of sunset took shape of the quarter moon, arched up in a tiny smile that sent warmth spreading inside Hajime, enough to ease the cold tension crawling under his skin.
"Why did you not wake me up earlier?"
"It seemed like you were having a good dream." At least that was what Hajime wished, that Sadakichi was dreaming of rainbows and flower fields and mini waterfalls and not of fire and blood and black smoke and graveyards.
"I was." The radiance that glinted on Sadakichi's face proved that Hajime hadn't made a false assumption.
Outside their window, darkness veiled over Aizuwakamatsu, crickets sang their endless song and trees danced with the spring wind.
"We travel back to Sendai tomorrow morning, right?" Hajime watched Sadakichi refill his tea cup, every movement fluid.
Sadakichi didn't meet his gaze when he said, "I'd like to visit the graveyard once more to pay respect before we leave," his eyes focused on his own cup while he filled it with the steaming amber-colored concoction.
Such endeavor wouldn't be ideal to a healing soul because it would be like pouring acid on a fresh wound. Definitely not a healthy idea, but Hajime agreed nonetheless.
It was in silence that they ate, the ambiance relaxing despite the fact they still both carried the weight of the past on their shoulders.
Act III.
The sky opalesced to a mixed hue of red and orange that reminded him of a burning town, the same burning town that edged its way back into his dreams. Warm air crept through his open window, chasing away the cool temperature that milled about in his small home. Summer was just around the corner.
Hajime had already returned to Tokyo. Vestiges of his shadow filled the empty spaces that used to hold his presence. He had stayed longer this time, the longest ever, using the vacation he'd been granted from work.
It wasn't just his home that felt empty and void of Hajime's warmth. His heart ached from his absence and how he wished Hajime wouldn't have to leave. But Sadakichi knew he wasn't the center of the man's life. The thought shouldn't even cross his mind.
He held no power to stop the changing of the seasons. Summer was upon him and had draped its stifling cape over Sendai. It was during the week when the heat was horridly unbearable that his mother came to visit.
"I see that Saito-san had left some of his things." Her words bordered more on intellectual observation than suspicious curiosity.
"He always stays a few days whenever he visits so he thought it wise to leave some of his belongings." It was an unspoken agreement. Sadakichi found no qualms when Hajime started acting like his house was his second home.
"What an honorable man. You are lucky to have him as a friend." His mother's cheeks were as pink as the flower in her hair, a lovely smile painted on her lips. "I remember how you spoke so highly of him in your letters."
The remark held a blunt insinuation, eliciting a foreign feeling that brought heat to Sadakichi's face. Books might have defined their connection as friendship. But he was still clouded with uncertainty in that area. How he felt about the former Shinsengumi captain was a question left hovering above his head.
***
His sword was no longer a gleaming metallic silver but tainted with different shades of red. Men that wore a different color than the white they donned swarmed around them, too many that regardless of how fast Sadakichi swung his weapon, the chance of returning home unscathed or alive remained a blur.
Katsutarou was a gifted swordsman, much like Teijirou. His expression hadn't faltered, still framed with the confidence and audacity he was known for. He was the sliver of light that pierced through the caliginous shroud they were encased in.
"Sadakichi!" Katsutarou yelled in warning, his voice echoed like bells that knelled from the temple.
Time slowed. Sadakichi could see the sword close to his neck. There was little chance to avoid it. The noise of the battlefield became dull susurrus and all he could hear was the harsh laughter of the shinigami behind him, around him, above him. If only he could bid farewell to those he cared about. He thought of his mother. Of Teijirou. Of the Byakkotai. Of Saito Hajime.
A movement like lightning flashed through the corner of his eye. Sadakichi didn't feel the cold steel touch his skin. Instead, he felt warm hope radiating behind him.
"Go! Get out of here! Both of you. " Hajime wielded his sword, swift as the wind, graceful as a panther.
Like death was persistently pursuing him, an enemy sprang from out of nowhere and the glint of steel was all Sadakichi saw before a curtain of black swept before him.
Saito became his shield, sable haori fluttering behind him as he sliced through the enemies. "Go!" he hollered. "I am ordering you to retreat."
It was later that he learned Saito had been wounded but it wasn't because he felt obligated that he went to see him at the Shinsengumi camp. Apologies poured out of his mouth upon seeing the blood-soaked bandages around the man's bare torso.
"It wasn’t your fault." Raw honesty shone on Saito's eyes. Though still feeling guilty, Sadakichi was grateful that the man didn't resent him.
"Would you like me to get you some tea?" Guilty or not, Sadakichi was still indebted to the Shinsengumi captain. Saito did, after all, save his and Katsutarou's life.
"I would prefer sake."
The inequitable reality that Saito was a man much older than him created a crack on his distorted teenage fantasy that he and the Shinsengumi captain could plant a seed that would eventually grow into vines of friendship.
"Saito-san. I'm foh-sixteen years old. I doubt anyone would give me a bottle of sake, even if it would be meant for you."
The smile that touched Hajime's face wasn't quite like the usual condescending smirk he often carried around. "Then I'll have tea."
The small pond that had always been still and unmoving in the depths of his heart stirred awake and soon turned into a maelstrom, invoking strange emotions that possessed him to utter, "You look handsome when you smile."
Laughter rumbled out of Saito - soft and guileless. "Now, now, Iinuma-kun. You have just made me feel special."
***
Something was burning, the pungent smell forcing him to surface from the deep ends of his reverie. Before panic could set in, he heard his name in his mother's stern voice.
"Sadakichi! The rice!"
The smoke rising from the pot and the small flames flickering on the stove morphed into an inferno of dark fumes and burning buildings.
"Sadakichi!" His mother's call was nothing but a muffled buzz, a low whirring in his head for a few drifting seconds until he felt a pair of strong but soft hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "You are hopeless child," she said in a way that made Sadakichi feel he was fourteen once again.
"I'm sorry, Hahaue." He bent forward, eyes pinned on the floor while shame pierced through his bones. Why did these images sneak up on him at a time like this?
His mother regarded him with tangible concern. "You seem far away. Where were you?"
It wasn't a stab in his momentary psychosis but more like reaching out, worming her way into his warped reality. The answer couldn't leave his mouth, however, so he wove a lie close enough to the truth. "I was thinking of my friends, of Teijirou, of Gisaburo-san. I wonder what it would be like if they were still alive."
Her voice was as soft as the cotton fabric of her yukata when she spoke next. "They're in a good place now, son, and I'm certain they are watching over you, Ito-kun especially."
"I know."
Though hardly a sentimental man himself, Hajime had offered the exact same words. How he wished he was here. Always.
Sadakichi could only embrace the fact that the constant yearning for the man was a clear testimony that he truly missed Hajime.
Act IV.
Warm tones of yellow and orange emblazoned the streets of Sendai. The few sakura trees that stood beside the torii at the foot of the hill all stood bare, dark brown branches swaying languidly with the wind. Hajime marched forward with eagerness in his gait, pebbles scrunching beneath his boots.
A flock of birds flew above him and descended on a row of bamboo trees ahead. The sun was close to sinking behind the mountains, pale orange rays creating an igneous illusion over the forest.
Hajime turned to a narrower lane where he could now see Sadakichi watering the plants he kept in that tiny space he called his garden. It was one of those weekends when he didn't have to work. One of the reasons why Hajime had chosen to return at this particular day.
Sadakichi's face lit up as soon as he caught sight of him, his lips turning up to a full radiant smile that sent warmth spreading in Hajime's chest.
"Saito-san!" The previous task had been abandoned in favor of greeting him with a courteous bow.
"I've only been gone six months and we're back to last name and honorifics?" Hajime meant that as a jest but it still elicited a horrified expression from Sadakichi, which he found extremely amusing.
"I apologize, Hajime-san. I guess old habits are hard to break. Well, come inside." Sadakichi's house, regardless on how congested it was for two people, now felt more like a home away from home.
"I was only kidding, Sadakichi-kun. Here." Hajime offered the plastic bag in his hand. "I bought some nashi from a farm I chanced upon on the way here. I also brought mikan from my own backyard."
That was the most Hajime had ever said anything about his house in Tokyo. Sadakichi never asked about anything. This odd connection they shared had merely blossomed from the obligatory visit that started it all, back when Hajime was requested to grace Sadakichi with humble companionship and help the boy - young man now - lift his head out of the deathly pit that was his past. Why Hajime kept coming back was beyond him.
"I'm going to make some tarts from the nashi." The kitchen looked less dull and cheerful with Sadakichi occupying it.
Hajime watched him pour half the content of the bag into a bowl then held it under running water. Judging from how the kitchen looked barley touched, he assumed Sadakichi hadn't had any decent meal for the day so he offered to prepare dinner.
"Oh, almost forgot. I brought you a gift." He dug into his travel bag to fish out the box containing a set of calligraphy tools. The look of elation that sparked over Sadakichi's face induced a twinge in his chest. There was something rewarding in seeing Sadakichi's jovial reaction that Hajime always aimed to please the young man. When had he started feeling this way?
***
No obstacle ever stood in Hajime's way whenever he wanted to be in the line of duty. But there seemed to be an endless row of hurdles he had to go through at that moment to convince his commander that he was in sound condition to return to the battlefield. Toshizou was uncharacteristically wary - warier than ever.
"I can't afford to lose what's left of the Shinsegumi," was his candid explanation.
Hajime wondered if bad news might have reached him. He chose not to toss any questions in the air. If it was anything significant that would require his awareness, then Toshizou would've told him already. "I am fine, if that's what you're worried about."
One corner of Toshizou's mouth twitched. "You've always been an excellent swordsman, Saito. I just can't fathom how you could be so careless and use your body as a shield to protect that boy."
If that came in a form of query, Hajime wouldn't have an honest answer prepared. There was only one logical explanation he could fabricate. "I acted out on impulse. The enemy was about to strike the boy."
A conniving smirk spread across Toshizou's face as if he knew a secret that Hajime didn't. "Do you care so much for that boy that you were willing to risk your life?"
The words were like bricks smacked against his head that had Hajime cowering internally and hiding behind a thick wall of self denial. "He's just a boy. Like the three hundred or so others that was forced to fight for Aizu. He's no one special."
Toshizou studied him with a skeptical look. Then he sighed and gathered the papers on his desk. "Very well, if you are in perfect health as you say you are, you may regroup with your men. I'll inform Katamori-sama of your condition and will have orders for you to go back to the battlefield in two hours."
The floor soars up close to his face when Hajime bends forth. "Thank you. I'll take my leave."
Distinct earthy scent mixed with heady moisture in the air greeted him as soon as he stepped out of the tent. A discernible sign that rain was upon them. Before he could inhale the intoxicating petrichor, he caught sight of Sadakichi through the corner of his eye. Hajime knew for an instant that the boy had been standing outside the tent long enough to hear his conversation with Toshizou. The tears that welled up in the boy's eyes were apparent indication.
"Iinuma-kun," was all he managed to utter before the boy turned on his heel and fled.
Hajime juggled his options and was tempted to follow Sadakichi but then decided against it. He had a job to do. Besides, the boy was a samurai. He shouldn't let emotions rule him over.
His mind was clear of any worries when he charged towards the borders where enemies started crawling through. For Aizu, for Katamori-sama, he brought down one man after the other with everything he got.
About five hours passed and he had just returned from the battlefront smelling like blood and gunpowder and mud when the sudden urge to seek out Sadakichi slammed into him. That was how he ended up at the Byakkotai camp after he had cleaned up to look less of a madman who had just been out slicing guts and throats.
Ito Teijirou was the one who met him with prim and proper behavior, explaining that Sadakichi was meditating with the others and that he and Wasuke was tasked to keep watch.
"Would you by any chance know if something had happened?" he asked, meeting Hajime's eyes with a calculating gaze. "He'd gone to the Shinsengumi camp earlier because he wanted to see if you've recovered fully. When he came back, he looked gravely upset."
Guilt was quick to knock on his doors, stretching its tentacles around his heart, but Hajime managed to shove any feeling of remorse down the deep pit of his conscience and spat out a lie, saying, "I wouldn't know."
A smile graced Teijirou's lips and the softened expression made him look like an innocent child that he really was rather than a gifted swordsman everyone saw him to be. "He really looks up to you. That Sadakichi."
Hajime wasn't sure how to process that information so an impassive and terse nod was the only reaction he could provide. In a swift change of tide, he said, "You boys are doing a good job. You've proven to be great warriors," and with a firm tap on Teijirou's shoulder, he added, "Keep up the good work. Good night."
***
Fireflies danced outside the window in their nightly ritual. His eyes affixed on the yellow green dots scintillating against the mantle of black. Cool draft crept through the house, wrapping its icy limbs around his body.
The serene atmosphere Sendai offered was one of the things Hajime loved about this place. He enjoyed the quiet repose and present company.
Sadakichi was softly humming while he tidied up at the kitchen, the pleasant sound lulling Hajime, easing him into a state of torpor until he was floating through that special place between consciousness and sleep.
"Ah! Hajime-san."
His name rolled off the man's tongue with unconcealed affection, voice so gentle that it didn't disturb his passive musing. His lips curved up as he shifted to face Sadakichi and bestow him the undivided attention he deserved.
"I have a bottle of sake with your name on it." Sadakich was already rummaging through the cabinet then soon emerged with that cylindrical container of happiness.
"Ah, a perfect company for after-dinner conversation." Hajime was all too eager to grab the ochoko from Sadakichi, leaving the tokkuri under his host's care.
The first gulp burned his throat. His viscera hadn't been touched by the magical infusion for months because of his job. The soothing effect of sake and Sadakichi combined bubbled up inside him. "You make my life perfect, Sadakichi-kun."
The remark shot out of his mouth before Hajime could analyze its meaning and he couldn't blame Sadakichi for staring at him with wide eyes and cheeks tinted with a pretty shade of crimson.
Then an endearing smile bloomed on Sadakichi's lips. "I can say the same thing about you, Hajime-kun." The honesty that laced his words caused a disconcerting twinge in Hajime's chest.
Silence inflated in harmony with the tranquil ambiance that had him vacillating between drowning himself in that sinful beverage or to consume it in moderation so he could keep a clear head.
Sadakichi's tuneful laughter invaded his senses and when he said, "Easy, Hajime-san. You're drinking as if you hadn't had sake for a year," Hajime was slapped with an appalling realization that he was close to being intoxicated.
"It's getting colder. I'll go close the windows." The moment Sadakichi sprang on his feet, he toppled over and was heading face first to the floor.
The speed of Hajime's arms hadn't changed over the years. He was quick to catch the younger man, who turned in his embrace only to stop when his face was inches close to his.
Their breaths mingled, hearts beating in synchrony. The thought of closing the distance, of brushing his lips against Sadakichi's skipped around his head. Hajime convinced himself it was the sake talking, whispering to him, so once he had helped Sadakichi back on his feet, he bid him goodnight and went straight to the corner where his futon was waiting.
***
Page 2
Mononofu Shiroki Tora; Saito Hajime/Iinuma Sadakichi, PG-13
Written for smallfandombang
MASTER POST
Act I.
Wood planks sticking out of the grass-covered earth were lined before him like crippled warriors barely hanging on to their remaining strength. The names engraved on every piece burned through his cornea, bestirring the virulent pain he had long buried deep in his heart.
Beyond the graves and past the curved expanse of the hill sat old structures marked with fifteen-year-old war scars - scars that were poorly hidden behind masks of meticulous renovation. Vestiges of the past lingered on the scenery framed by the soft blue sky.
With his eyes closed, his mind traveled back to what once occurred in that place, memories so vivid that he could almost hear the cries of the wounded, the incessant clanging of swords, the unsettling silence of death. Anguished voices echoed in his ears, screaming his name. Sadakichi! Sadakichi! Sadakichi! And his eyes snapped open.
His legs wobbled and everything around him started spinning and spinning and-
The strong arm coiled around his waist served as a steady foundation, stilling him, holding him in place. Warm breath caressed the back of his neck as Saito Hajime whispered, "Hey. Are you feeling well?" This man, who had always been the stable facet in his unstable world, was the sole reason why he found the sane will to set foot on this cold, hard ground.
"Yes." Sadakichi blinked against the sun's rays, noticing for the first time the sakura petals spiraling down to the ground. "Yes, I'm fine."
Hajime continued to watch him with worried eyes, like he could crumble any moment. "I shouldn't have urged you to come here."
"I wanted to come. I had to." Words laced with honesty, true in all aspects. Though his heart was still weighed with remorse and regret, Sadakichi believed it was time to face the ghosts that had been haunting him for the past fifteen years. The same ghosts he had inadvertently left behind since the soles of his jika-tabi last touched the soil of Iimoriyama.
***
They were overtly outnumbered, cornered, the consequences of having underestimated the enemy hovered above them like a persistent shinigami. Escape was their top priority.
Cruel fate had forced them to break into two groups. It was under Gisaburo's orders that they move forth through the tunnel in hopes to remain imperceptible from leviathans' eyes, dark walls closing in like hungry monsters baring its fangs while imminent death were at their heels.
Fear clawed in his chest and the only thing that was keeping him from losing his mind was the fact Teijirou was right by his side.
Shigetarou was yelling something that sounded unintelligible in Sadakichi's ears. All his sense of hearing could process was the deafening explosion that reverberated from the distance.
The sound of a thousand footsteps thundered within the hollow passageway, too many that Sadakichi wasn't sure if it was a reflection of their hearts beating in fear or if it was a blatant warning that there were enemies in pursuit or waiting ahead with a trap.
They were warriors, Gisaburo reminded. "We are samurai entrusted to protect Aizu and our Lord," he added, his eyes burning with valor, though the hand he had wrapped around his sword's handle visibly trembled.
His words rang true, nonetheless, and it was those words that fueled Sadakichi's will to move forward, to raise his sword against the enemies, to live, to live to live.
It was on the slopes of Iimoriyama where they all stood to watch the bright orange flames dance over Aizu and around the castle, where they were rooted to witness the black smoke engulfing Tsurugajo. It was that dreadful sight that seized their will to fight. Their will to live vanished into the fog that crept along the hill.
The thought of the enemies having taken over the castle left them with one option.
Seppuku.
Their honor code flashed before them as vivid as the morning sun - the sun they knew they would never get to see again.
The blade of his sword glistened in greeting as Sadakichi raised his weapon, ready to plunge it into his gut. The blood of his friends - his Byakkotai comrades - already tainted the ground he knelt on. They were waiting for him, their voices ringing in his head. Sadakichi! Sadakichi! Sadakichi! So he pushed his sword into his body and the world faded around him.
***
The blade - sharp and cold and lethal - had done nothing but leave a ghostly touch in his flesh though the lingering memory it housed had left a permanent wound in his soul.
Why? His thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. Why me? Why me? Why me?
It was a question he'd asked no one in particular, maybe he'd directed it to himself, but he had found no answer. For fourteen years, he kept asking, searching for the so-called 'purpose' for being the sole survivor from his unit. For reasons why he had, not by choice, betrayed his friends.
Until Saito Hajime showed up at his door fourteen years after the war ended.
Hajime didn't carry the answer with him, but it was through his straightforward nature that Sadakichi found the strength to revisit the past, the Aizu war, that dreadful, dreadful Battle of Tonoguchihara. It was through Hajime's tactless approach that Sadakichi had opened his eyes to a new understanding. It was through Hajime's sake-induced complicated and twisted personality that Sadakichi found the answer. He survived to tell their tale.
Now a year had passed and Hajime had been a constant figure in his asymmetric way of living. The blue among his dull gray and brown. The light - though dim and flickering - in his dark, dark world. The key to the door that led to a secret place where he could leave the past behind.
But.
There was no escape, wasn't there? He was too naïve to think there was. He had learned to forgive himself for his failure to the samurai bushido honor code. But that forgiveness was merely a forged notion so that he could break out of his fragile cage.
How could there be an escape from his convoluted history when he now stood where his friends' bones littered the ground?
No scream tore through him, no cry of agony clawing at his throat. Instead, a single tear rolled down his cheek as he stared at the graves in soundless lamentation.
I thought you were over this? He could hear Teijirou in his head, could always hear Teijirou, always lecturing, reminding him that he was alive, that he should keep on living.
Act II.
A string of scented smoke billowed from the incense burning in the corner of the room. The mixed aroma of wood and frankincense permeated the small space. The dim light from the wall lamp cast shadows that crawled over the walls like phantoms of the old Aizu clan.
Hajime lowered his tea cup on the table. His roiling gut craved for sake but present company might require his less inebriated existence so he settled for bancha.
Iinuma Sadakichi seemed at peace in his sleep, chest rising and falling with every breath. His yukata - dark gray and a complete contrast against the pristine white sheets of the futon - was slightly parted, showing off his porcelain-like collarbone. There were lines at the corners of his eyes that made him seem he had aged thirty years instead of fifteen.
Three hours had passed since Sadakichi had slipped into slumber. The visit to the graveyard must have drained what was left of his strength - physical, emotional and mental. Hajime had meant to rouse him for supper, but decided against it and let the boy rest.
When had he crossed the line and started caring?
Friendship was something Hajime never considered he would seek after the Boshin war. He traveled a lot, trying to rebuild a life he never had. Socialization was at the bottom of his to-do list. Then came the letter - a humble request for him to visit an old acquaintance.
This young man - once a boy - wasn't the type to leave a strong impact, if he were to be honest. A teenage samurai among 300, barely able to hold a stick without trembling, nothing quite like the genius swordsman his friend, Ito Teijirou, once was.
However, some divine providence had stepped in and Hajime felt there was an invisible rope that tied them together. He was a warrior who was tasked to aid the Daimyo of Aizu han, to protect Aizu and its people. Yet somehow he found himself often traipsing along the Byakkotai camp, eyes set on a certain boy.
***
Dark ominous clouds loomed over Aizu. Hajime felt a shift in the air as he walked through the gates of the Nisshinkan with Hijikata Toshizou.
Something heavy sat in the atmosphere, despite the gleeful commotion that greeted them when they walked into the dojo. A cacophony of cheers rose from a group of young boys - very young boys who all looked to be around 16 to 17 of age. If this was the new unit of samurai that the Daimyo intended to dispatch, then Hajime could conclude that Lord Matsudaira Katamori had truly lost his sanity.
Toshizou was the one who approached the boys. His ever intimidating aura already had a visible effect on the children. Their backs were stiff as the wooden swords in their hands, young eyes wavering with what Hajime clearly saw as fear.
There was one boy whose eyes held courage instead, whose demeanor demonstrated confidence. Ito Teijirou did make an impression that Toshizou would later admit he respected.
Once Toshizou had given his speech - laconic and always straight to the point - he approached one of the boys to ask if he understood what had been said. And Hajime would be lying if he claimed this boy hadn't completely stolen his attention.
Their paths, narrow as it may be, had been paved to cross, though Hajime tried to convince himself that the boy wasn't the reason he had wandered back to the Nisshinkan later that day. If he were to take these boys - these Byakkotai - under his wing once they were in the battlefield, it was only right for him to be curious on how well these young samurai could use their swords.
The boy was there, with Ito Teijirou, dueling with their bokken, wood clanking against wood - the difference with the sound of metal against metal was by a mile.
Once they were done and Teijirou left, Hajime made his presence known. The boy held a stance, wary and suspicious, his eyes never leaving Hajime.
It was amusing to the point that Hajime barked, "Name?" sternly to rile up the boy even more.
However, the boy held his ground, studying him with childlike curious eyes. "Iinuma Sadakichi," was the curt response that Hajime was certain the blame for the boy's discourtesy was on him.
"You have a terrible technique." Hajime eyed the piece of wood still clasped in the boy's hand. "You have a habit of holding the weapon too high. That leaves your lower half unguarded. That would be the first thing the enemy would notice and would know where to strike."
There was a small hint of frown, a barely noticeable crease between Iinuma's eyebrows and Hajime half expected him to retaliate, to challenge him on a duel. But the boy suddenly bent forward, eyes on the ground.
"Will you teach me the proper way to fight, Saito-san?"
It was a request so earnest that it coiled around Hajime's heart, one that was difficult to decline. And it was only when he said, "Very well," that the boy finally raised his head.
Hajime never considered himself a good teacher. He was an obedient student, a reliable leader, but never a good teacher. Yet Iinuma followed his instructions religiously. It was at the end of their impromptu lesson that he had noticed, up close, Iinuma looked a lot younger than the others.
It was impulsive curiosity that pushed him to ask, "How old are you?"
Iinuma's shoulders visibly stiffened but he was quick to hide his initial reaction.
"I am sixteen." Whatever expression he wore was lost to Hajime because the boy had lowered half his body, saying, "Arigatou gozaimasu, Saito-san," before dashing out with incredible speed.
***
The fine line between past and present blurs for a moment, creating a panoramic tableau in his mind. He was hauled back to reality when light and fleeting knock released him from the spell he was under. The rhythmic tapping had no hint of urgency so there was no reason for him to jump startled, but Hajime was lost in thought that such reaction was evoked.
It was one of the maidens at the inn. She had brought them their meals as Hajime had instructed. Similar to the ghosts of the warriors loitering along the streets of Aizu, she was quick to disappear behind the door before Hajime could express his gratitude. The analogy coaxed a derisive sound to escape through his nose.
Rousing Sadakichi had always been the easy part. The man still had samurai blood running through his veins that he was so alert, even when asleep. So when Hajime laid a hand on Sadakichi's shoulder, the young man jerked awake, eyes unfocused but wide open.
"It's late. We haven't had dinner. You must be hungry."
Sadakichi gazed up at him, irises dark as the night sky littered with glittering stars. His lips that bore the color of sunset took shape of the quarter moon, arched up in a tiny smile that sent warmth spreading inside Hajime, enough to ease the cold tension crawling under his skin.
"Why did you not wake me up earlier?"
"It seemed like you were having a good dream." At least that was what Hajime wished, that Sadakichi was dreaming of rainbows and flower fields and mini waterfalls and not of fire and blood and black smoke and graveyards.
"I was." The radiance that glinted on Sadakichi's face proved that Hajime hadn't made a false assumption.
Outside their window, darkness veiled over Aizuwakamatsu, crickets sang their endless song and trees danced with the spring wind.
"We travel back to Sendai tomorrow morning, right?" Hajime watched Sadakichi refill his tea cup, every movement fluid.
Sadakichi didn't meet his gaze when he said, "I'd like to visit the graveyard once more to pay respect before we leave," his eyes focused on his own cup while he filled it with the steaming amber-colored concoction.
Such endeavor wouldn't be ideal to a healing soul because it would be like pouring acid on a fresh wound. Definitely not a healthy idea, but Hajime agreed nonetheless.
It was in silence that they ate, the ambiance relaxing despite the fact they still both carried the weight of the past on their shoulders.
Act III.
The sky opalesced to a mixed hue of red and orange that reminded him of a burning town, the same burning town that edged its way back into his dreams. Warm air crept through his open window, chasing away the cool temperature that milled about in his small home. Summer was just around the corner.
Hajime had already returned to Tokyo. Vestiges of his shadow filled the empty spaces that used to hold his presence. He had stayed longer this time, the longest ever, using the vacation he'd been granted from work.
It wasn't just his home that felt empty and void of Hajime's warmth. His heart ached from his absence and how he wished Hajime wouldn't have to leave. But Sadakichi knew he wasn't the center of the man's life. The thought shouldn't even cross his mind.
He held no power to stop the changing of the seasons. Summer was upon him and had draped its stifling cape over Sendai. It was during the week when the heat was horridly unbearable that his mother came to visit.
"I see that Saito-san had left some of his things." Her words bordered more on intellectual observation than suspicious curiosity.
"He always stays a few days whenever he visits so he thought it wise to leave some of his belongings." It was an unspoken agreement. Sadakichi found no qualms when Hajime started acting like his house was his second home.
"What an honorable man. You are lucky to have him as a friend." His mother's cheeks were as pink as the flower in her hair, a lovely smile painted on her lips. "I remember how you spoke so highly of him in your letters."
The remark held a blunt insinuation, eliciting a foreign feeling that brought heat to Sadakichi's face. Books might have defined their connection as friendship. But he was still clouded with uncertainty in that area. How he felt about the former Shinsengumi captain was a question left hovering above his head.
***
His sword was no longer a gleaming metallic silver but tainted with different shades of red. Men that wore a different color than the white they donned swarmed around them, too many that regardless of how fast Sadakichi swung his weapon, the chance of returning home unscathed or alive remained a blur.
Katsutarou was a gifted swordsman, much like Teijirou. His expression hadn't faltered, still framed with the confidence and audacity he was known for. He was the sliver of light that pierced through the caliginous shroud they were encased in.
"Sadakichi!" Katsutarou yelled in warning, his voice echoed like bells that knelled from the temple.
Time slowed. Sadakichi could see the sword close to his neck. There was little chance to avoid it. The noise of the battlefield became dull susurrus and all he could hear was the harsh laughter of the shinigami behind him, around him, above him. If only he could bid farewell to those he cared about. He thought of his mother. Of Teijirou. Of the Byakkotai. Of Saito Hajime.
A movement like lightning flashed through the corner of his eye. Sadakichi didn't feel the cold steel touch his skin. Instead, he felt warm hope radiating behind him.
"Go! Get out of here! Both of you. " Hajime wielded his sword, swift as the wind, graceful as a panther.
Like death was persistently pursuing him, an enemy sprang from out of nowhere and the glint of steel was all Sadakichi saw before a curtain of black swept before him.
Saito became his shield, sable haori fluttering behind him as he sliced through the enemies. "Go!" he hollered. "I am ordering you to retreat."
It was later that he learned Saito had been wounded but it wasn't because he felt obligated that he went to see him at the Shinsengumi camp. Apologies poured out of his mouth upon seeing the blood-soaked bandages around the man's bare torso.
"It wasn’t your fault." Raw honesty shone on Saito's eyes. Though still feeling guilty, Sadakichi was grateful that the man didn't resent him.
"Would you like me to get you some tea?" Guilty or not, Sadakichi was still indebted to the Shinsengumi captain. Saito did, after all, save his and Katsutarou's life.
"I would prefer sake."
The inequitable reality that Saito was a man much older than him created a crack on his distorted teenage fantasy that he and the Shinsengumi captain could plant a seed that would eventually grow into vines of friendship.
"Saito-san. I'm foh-sixteen years old. I doubt anyone would give me a bottle of sake, even if it would be meant for you."
The smile that touched Hajime's face wasn't quite like the usual condescending smirk he often carried around. "Then I'll have tea."
The small pond that had always been still and unmoving in the depths of his heart stirred awake and soon turned into a maelstrom, invoking strange emotions that possessed him to utter, "You look handsome when you smile."
Laughter rumbled out of Saito - soft and guileless. "Now, now, Iinuma-kun. You have just made me feel special."
***
Something was burning, the pungent smell forcing him to surface from the deep ends of his reverie. Before panic could set in, he heard his name in his mother's stern voice.
"Sadakichi! The rice!"
The smoke rising from the pot and the small flames flickering on the stove morphed into an inferno of dark fumes and burning buildings.
"Sadakichi!" His mother's call was nothing but a muffled buzz, a low whirring in his head for a few drifting seconds until he felt a pair of strong but soft hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "You are hopeless child," she said in a way that made Sadakichi feel he was fourteen once again.
"I'm sorry, Hahaue." He bent forward, eyes pinned on the floor while shame pierced through his bones. Why did these images sneak up on him at a time like this?
His mother regarded him with tangible concern. "You seem far away. Where were you?"
It wasn't a stab in his momentary psychosis but more like reaching out, worming her way into his warped reality. The answer couldn't leave his mouth, however, so he wove a lie close enough to the truth. "I was thinking of my friends, of Teijirou, of Gisaburo-san. I wonder what it would be like if they were still alive."
Her voice was as soft as the cotton fabric of her yukata when she spoke next. "They're in a good place now, son, and I'm certain they are watching over you, Ito-kun especially."
"I know."
Though hardly a sentimental man himself, Hajime had offered the exact same words. How he wished he was here. Always.
Sadakichi could only embrace the fact that the constant yearning for the man was a clear testimony that he truly missed Hajime.
Act IV.
Warm tones of yellow and orange emblazoned the streets of Sendai. The few sakura trees that stood beside the torii at the foot of the hill all stood bare, dark brown branches swaying languidly with the wind. Hajime marched forward with eagerness in his gait, pebbles scrunching beneath his boots.
A flock of birds flew above him and descended on a row of bamboo trees ahead. The sun was close to sinking behind the mountains, pale orange rays creating an igneous illusion over the forest.
Hajime turned to a narrower lane where he could now see Sadakichi watering the plants he kept in that tiny space he called his garden. It was one of those weekends when he didn't have to work. One of the reasons why Hajime had chosen to return at this particular day.
Sadakichi's face lit up as soon as he caught sight of him, his lips turning up to a full radiant smile that sent warmth spreading in Hajime's chest.
"Saito-san!" The previous task had been abandoned in favor of greeting him with a courteous bow.
"I've only been gone six months and we're back to last name and honorifics?" Hajime meant that as a jest but it still elicited a horrified expression from Sadakichi, which he found extremely amusing.
"I apologize, Hajime-san. I guess old habits are hard to break. Well, come inside." Sadakichi's house, regardless on how congested it was for two people, now felt more like a home away from home.
"I was only kidding, Sadakichi-kun. Here." Hajime offered the plastic bag in his hand. "I bought some nashi from a farm I chanced upon on the way here. I also brought mikan from my own backyard."
That was the most Hajime had ever said anything about his house in Tokyo. Sadakichi never asked about anything. This odd connection they shared had merely blossomed from the obligatory visit that started it all, back when Hajime was requested to grace Sadakichi with humble companionship and help the boy - young man now - lift his head out of the deathly pit that was his past. Why Hajime kept coming back was beyond him.
"I'm going to make some tarts from the nashi." The kitchen looked less dull and cheerful with Sadakichi occupying it.
Hajime watched him pour half the content of the bag into a bowl then held it under running water. Judging from how the kitchen looked barley touched, he assumed Sadakichi hadn't had any decent meal for the day so he offered to prepare dinner.
"Oh, almost forgot. I brought you a gift." He dug into his travel bag to fish out the box containing a set of calligraphy tools. The look of elation that sparked over Sadakichi's face induced a twinge in his chest. There was something rewarding in seeing Sadakichi's jovial reaction that Hajime always aimed to please the young man. When had he started feeling this way?
***
No obstacle ever stood in Hajime's way whenever he wanted to be in the line of duty. But there seemed to be an endless row of hurdles he had to go through at that moment to convince his commander that he was in sound condition to return to the battlefield. Toshizou was uncharacteristically wary - warier than ever.
"I can't afford to lose what's left of the Shinsegumi," was his candid explanation.
Hajime wondered if bad news might have reached him. He chose not to toss any questions in the air. If it was anything significant that would require his awareness, then Toshizou would've told him already. "I am fine, if that's what you're worried about."
One corner of Toshizou's mouth twitched. "You've always been an excellent swordsman, Saito. I just can't fathom how you could be so careless and use your body as a shield to protect that boy."
If that came in a form of query, Hajime wouldn't have an honest answer prepared. There was only one logical explanation he could fabricate. "I acted out on impulse. The enemy was about to strike the boy."
A conniving smirk spread across Toshizou's face as if he knew a secret that Hajime didn't. "Do you care so much for that boy that you were willing to risk your life?"
The words were like bricks smacked against his head that had Hajime cowering internally and hiding behind a thick wall of self denial. "He's just a boy. Like the three hundred or so others that was forced to fight for Aizu. He's no one special."
Toshizou studied him with a skeptical look. Then he sighed and gathered the papers on his desk. "Very well, if you are in perfect health as you say you are, you may regroup with your men. I'll inform Katamori-sama of your condition and will have orders for you to go back to the battlefield in two hours."
The floor soars up close to his face when Hajime bends forth. "Thank you. I'll take my leave."
Distinct earthy scent mixed with heady moisture in the air greeted him as soon as he stepped out of the tent. A discernible sign that rain was upon them. Before he could inhale the intoxicating petrichor, he caught sight of Sadakichi through the corner of his eye. Hajime knew for an instant that the boy had been standing outside the tent long enough to hear his conversation with Toshizou. The tears that welled up in the boy's eyes were apparent indication.
"Iinuma-kun," was all he managed to utter before the boy turned on his heel and fled.
Hajime juggled his options and was tempted to follow Sadakichi but then decided against it. He had a job to do. Besides, the boy was a samurai. He shouldn't let emotions rule him over.
His mind was clear of any worries when he charged towards the borders where enemies started crawling through. For Aizu, for Katamori-sama, he brought down one man after the other with everything he got.
About five hours passed and he had just returned from the battlefront smelling like blood and gunpowder and mud when the sudden urge to seek out Sadakichi slammed into him. That was how he ended up at the Byakkotai camp after he had cleaned up to look less of a madman who had just been out slicing guts and throats.
Ito Teijirou was the one who met him with prim and proper behavior, explaining that Sadakichi was meditating with the others and that he and Wasuke was tasked to keep watch.
"Would you by any chance know if something had happened?" he asked, meeting Hajime's eyes with a calculating gaze. "He'd gone to the Shinsengumi camp earlier because he wanted to see if you've recovered fully. When he came back, he looked gravely upset."
Guilt was quick to knock on his doors, stretching its tentacles around his heart, but Hajime managed to shove any feeling of remorse down the deep pit of his conscience and spat out a lie, saying, "I wouldn't know."
A smile graced Teijirou's lips and the softened expression made him look like an innocent child that he really was rather than a gifted swordsman everyone saw him to be. "He really looks up to you. That Sadakichi."
Hajime wasn't sure how to process that information so an impassive and terse nod was the only reaction he could provide. In a swift change of tide, he said, "You boys are doing a good job. You've proven to be great warriors," and with a firm tap on Teijirou's shoulder, he added, "Keep up the good work. Good night."
***
Fireflies danced outside the window in their nightly ritual. His eyes affixed on the yellow green dots scintillating against the mantle of black. Cool draft crept through the house, wrapping its icy limbs around his body.
The serene atmosphere Sendai offered was one of the things Hajime loved about this place. He enjoyed the quiet repose and present company.
Sadakichi was softly humming while he tidied up at the kitchen, the pleasant sound lulling Hajime, easing him into a state of torpor until he was floating through that special place between consciousness and sleep.
"Ah! Hajime-san."
His name rolled off the man's tongue with unconcealed affection, voice so gentle that it didn't disturb his passive musing. His lips curved up as he shifted to face Sadakichi and bestow him the undivided attention he deserved.
"I have a bottle of sake with your name on it." Sadakich was already rummaging through the cabinet then soon emerged with that cylindrical container of happiness.
"Ah, a perfect company for after-dinner conversation." Hajime was all too eager to grab the ochoko from Sadakichi, leaving the tokkuri under his host's care.
The first gulp burned his throat. His viscera hadn't been touched by the magical infusion for months because of his job. The soothing effect of sake and Sadakichi combined bubbled up inside him. "You make my life perfect, Sadakichi-kun."
The remark shot out of his mouth before Hajime could analyze its meaning and he couldn't blame Sadakichi for staring at him with wide eyes and cheeks tinted with a pretty shade of crimson.
Then an endearing smile bloomed on Sadakichi's lips. "I can say the same thing about you, Hajime-kun." The honesty that laced his words caused a disconcerting twinge in Hajime's chest.
Silence inflated in harmony with the tranquil ambiance that had him vacillating between drowning himself in that sinful beverage or to consume it in moderation so he could keep a clear head.
Sadakichi's tuneful laughter invaded his senses and when he said, "Easy, Hajime-san. You're drinking as if you hadn't had sake for a year," Hajime was slapped with an appalling realization that he was close to being intoxicated.
"It's getting colder. I'll go close the windows." The moment Sadakichi sprang on his feet, he toppled over and was heading face first to the floor.
The speed of Hajime's arms hadn't changed over the years. He was quick to catch the younger man, who turned in his embrace only to stop when his face was inches close to his.
Their breaths mingled, hearts beating in synchrony. The thought of closing the distance, of brushing his lips against Sadakichi's skipped around his head. Hajime convinced himself it was the sake talking, whispering to him, so once he had helped Sadakichi back on his feet, he bid him goodnight and went straight to the corner where his futon was waiting.
***
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