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FIC: What It Should Have Been; PMK; Tetsu, Okita, Hijikata; G

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#722 [2005-12-04 19:02:44]

FIC: What It Should Have Been; PMK; Tetsu, Okita, Hijikata; G

by ellene_j

Title: What It Should Have Been
Author: Divertimento
E-mail: ellene_j@...
Source: PMK
Main character(s): Tetsu, Okita, Hijikata
Archived on the website: Yes
General Rating: G
Warning: Pretty tame.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone here, not now, not ever.
Link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2689168/1/

Summary: The prequel to Black Cat, but chronologically, it is the second fic. Tetsu makes his way to Edo bearing a precious burden. Set in Edo, April 1868. Enjoy.


What It Should Have Been (Or Whatever Title Readers Think Would Have Been Better)


That evening, Tetsu started down through the hills and forest surrounding Edo on the last leg of his journey from Kyoto. It was almost night when he came within sight of the huge stone fortress built in the sixteenth century, reinforced later with the massive city wall that surrounded Edo.

Edo did not look too bad considering the ravages of war it had undergone. Outsiders with any kind of sense stayed out of Edo but Tetsu was competent and had been seen frequently enough over the past months, and he was gratified to be greeted now and then as he jogged down the sloping path toward the hospital.

This was simply to buy time.

It was true, of course, that Okita-san was ill. Blooms of scarlet where tiny blood vessel walls had breached and spilled their contents under his skin bruised the man’s whole body. In addition, the combined effects of consumption, blood loss and exhaustion almost always kept him asleep twenty hours of the day. Now, however, Okita-san was sitting in the far corner of the common room, eyes closed. Tetsu shouted and waved to Okita-san and then to Hotaru, who smiled and made for the kitchen. Stopping just a few steps from his mentor, Tetsu sat cross-legged and folded his arms across his chest. He smiled up at Hotaru as she handed him the tea and then pulled a long swallow, Souji watching him peaceably from across the low table.

“You look tired,” Tetsu remarked.

Souji shrugged expressively, momentarily an ancient Obaasan. “So what else is new?”

“You don’t eat enough,” Tetsu said. This was an old routine.

“Yes, mum,” Souji acknowledged obediently. Hotaru was already on her way from the kitchen with a bowl of steaming soba. Tetsu balked as it was placed in front of him.

“Hotaru-san,” he said to the petite lady in mock dismay, “how could you forget about poor Okita-san here?”

“Yes! Yes! I want a bowl too!” Souji chimed in, his dark head bobbing vigorously.

Hotaru glanced worriedly at her charge, “But… Okita-sama…” He flashed a brilliant smile, complete with a roguish wink.

Tetsu stared as Hotaru bowed and returned to the kitchen with an inexplicably sad expression on her face*. “Strange girl, huh?” he huffed.

“So. You have come all this way to feed me soba?” Souji asked.

“Somebody has to do it. Listen, I have a problem.”

“Don’t worry, Puppy-boy. I hear the Old Demon has some herbs which can really take care of that.”

“Shinpatt-san,” Tetsu said, wolfing a bite. Souji shook his head. “Not Shinpatt-san? Wait. Harada-san!” He paused as Souji shook with silent laughter. “Right. Be serious for a moment. Have you ever thought of taking a wife?”

Souji sat up straight, eyes narrowed to slits, his left hand held coquettishly over his mouth. Patronising now: “I presume you do not refer to the dishonourable practice of carrying on clandestine affairs. Yes. I have indeed considered it.”

“Really?” Tetsu gaped, his cheeks stuffed with food. “I didn’t know that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, brat,” Souji grumbled around a chopstick stuck between his teeth. It was the Demon, marred only by a barely perceptible nasal tone that persisted during the quicksilver transformations.

Tetsu, who mostly ignored Souji’s private games, continued with his meal. “So why did you drop the idea?” he asked, after they had eaten in silence for a little while. Souji pushed his unfinished bowl aside and slumped against the wall again. “The idea of marriage, I mean. They gave me command of your unit. Saya will have my guts if I agree and Hijikata-san will have them if I don’t, so what’s the difference? Maybe I should go for historical immortality and devote my life to the cause. What do you think, Okita-san?”

Souji let him roll. Tetsu generally reached his own conclusions by talking, and Souji was accustomed to confessional musing. Instead, he wondered how Tetsu could eat so fast and still talk without sucking food into his windpipe.

“So what do you think, Okita-san? Should I agree?” Tetsu asked again, finishing off his soba. He waved to Hotaru for a second helping. “You want another?”

Souji shook his head. When he spoke this time, it was in his own voice. “Hold out for a while. Until you have sorted this out with Saya-chan, any doubt or hesitation on your part may get you and the whole unit slaughtered on the battlefield. And if that happens, you’re immortalised as mediocrity.” Then he was gone again, and Hajime-san appeared as his dopey self, drawling, “Yes, as mediocrity.”

Tetsu frowned, his face furrowed in concentration as he took in the advice. He gazed questioningly at the other man. “So who did you consider?”

“Consider?”

“Taking as your wife.”

“Someone we know.”

Tetsu’s eyebrows shot up. “And the person visited the Headquarters regularly?”

Unexpectedly, Souji laughed. “Remotely.”

“Was it good?” Tetsu asked after some hesitation.

“Yes. Quite. It was an interesting experience.”

Tetsu stared at him, suddenly suspicious. When Okita-san said interesting, it was often code for bloodcurdling. He waited for an explanation but Okita-san simply settled into the corner, smiling enigmatically.

“Tetsu-kun, how is Kondou-san? It was months since I last saw everyone. I miss them.”

Tetsu fixed his gaze on the clenched fists hidden under the table. “They are fine, Okita-san, they miss your company too.” He glanced at Souji and smiled weakly. “Hijikata-san told me to pass this to you. He expressly forbade any sharing of its contents, on the pain of seppuku.”

Souji stared wordlessly at the Book, and then nodded. “I understand.”

There was silence for a little while as Tetsu turned his attention back to his soba.

He flipped through the Book; there were new entries.


… …


The next time Tetsu looked up, it was he who smiled. Down for the count. He sat a while longer, thinking, and then went quietly to the kitchen. “Watch him while he eats, alright, Hotaru-san? Otherwise he’ll give the food away to some kid.” Hotaru nodded, wondering if Tetsu noticed that he himself had just eaten half of Souji’s meal. “I’ll try to be back in a few weeks,” he continued, oblivious. “Please take care of him, will you?”

Over in the corner, Souji said, mingling sarcasm with affection. “Yes, mum.”

He waited until the footsteps had faded into the night. It was getting harder. The light was too much. He closed his eyes again, trembling badly now. “Ho – hotaru?” he managed to hold on until she got him a basin, and when the sickness passed, he had no idea who took him to his room but before he fell asleep, he said to no one in particular, “I can’t do anything for them.”


… …


The breathing had steadied now and Hotaru knew that exhaustion had finally taken hold. She tried to be alert to their onset, but Okita-sama hid a great deal. This time the pain had come screaming in with startling suddenness, and no wonder: to sit and read the book like that, to minutely observe, analyse the tiniest reaction for what clues might be given away.

She had seen this kind of thing before – the body punished for what the soul could not encompass. Sometimes it was a dull ache, as with Okita-sama. Sometimes excruciating back pain, or chronic stomach trouble. You saw it in the alcoholics, often, drinking to dull the sensitivity, to mute the hurt. So many people buried the soul’s pain in their bodies, she thought, running her fingers through her beloved’s damp hair. Even people who, one would have thought, might have known better.


… …


That night, for the second time in as many nights, Hijikata Toshizo had trouble falling asleep.

He used this tent gratis because it was set slightly apart from the rest of the camp; no one else knew about his wound and Hajime was doing a good job stifling the overwhelming sense of mindless despair. Tonight, alone as always in the little tent, Toshi stared at the patched ceiling made beautiful by moonlight reflected off the ground, and listened to the hypnotic sound of the breeze. He knew sleep would not come easily and did not close his eyes to coax it.

He had been prepared, to some extent, for nights like the one he had passed the previous evening. “There’s a lot going on in this world,” Sannan had warned him once. “Sometime, somewhere, we will have to experience a crushing defeat. Count on it, my friend.” So even before the battle of Toba-Fushimi, he understood that he would have to reckon with such a failure. He no longer denied the turmoil it aroused in him; he simply accepted the fact.

But Kat-chan… Where is he now? What are they doing to him? Is he even alive? He closed his eyes, his head throbbing slightly at the onslaught of agonising thoughts.

The river is dead.
And the sun deprived of light
With spreading darkness.

What wouldn’t he give to have his Book with him right now?

Lying there that cool April night, he felt no bitterness, he was aware of no regret. He felt as alone in the world as ever.

He slept, after that. Sometime just before dawn the next morning, he had a dream. He was sitting in the dark, in a small place. He was alone and it was very quiet and he could hear himself breathing, the blood singing in his ears. Then a door he had not suspected was there began to open: and he could see a flare of light beyond it. He thought he could hear familiar voices – Kat-chan’s muffled by his fist, Sannan’s quiet even tone in contrast with Harada’s loud, harsh voice. Souji’s laughter. He found himself moving towards the source of merriment.

The dream first sustained and then haunted him for the rest of his life.


The End

I am sorry for the delay in updating. A disgustingly problematic fic, this. And there is not even a decent plotline. I admit, I have a lot of problem figuring out what Souji is thinking half the time, and have thus come to the following conclusion: he really is quite insane. Nods.

You would notice that Souji imitated several PMK characters in the fic. Prizes for guessing the identity of the characters. No prizes, though, for Saitou and Toshi.

Hotaru is definitely OOC: she has matured! I would assume she has outgrown her crush, but she still idolises him.

Thanks to Fignae for bothering to go through the fic draft thingy a few weeks ago. I was pretty lazy in between. Big shout going out to you: Hope you are doing well now! Waves.

As usual, please do take pity on the poor author and review. I am so parched!



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