Title: Sake
Author: Divertimento
E-mail:
ellene_j@...
Source: PMK
Link:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2679505/8/
Main character(s): Okita, Tatsu
Archived on the website: yes
General Rating: G
Warning: Lotsa navel-gazing
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Yoshimura.
Summary: Set in 1865 May. Three months after Yamanamis death. Everyone knows a good dose of alcohol does wonders for tight lips. More navel-gazing.
SAKE
In our hands are nine beans
Nine beans, but more than that
We miss our parents home
If you miss me, child
Come and search
The autumn leaves of sorrow.
The children sang, sitting in a circle holding hands and passing the slightly crushed flower from hand to hand so that it could not see the object. It sat in the middle, a thick blindfold over the eyes, waiting patiently. When the song ended, a silent scuffle broke out between two children as one tried to press the flower into the hands of the other.
Souji laughed softly as he lifted the blindfold, I wonder whose hand holds the beans now?
The scene became more chaotic as the children shrieked and vied for the chance to have him pick them. Only one child remained silent.
Is it you, Haru-chan?
The child shook her head timidly: her eyes, astonishingly, were brimming. The children were silent as he took her tightly-balled fists in his. When the fists opened, she exclaimed, startled out of her short-lived misery, Magic! Aniki can make things disappear!
There was uproar as the children clamoured for more. Souji turned his attention to the boy next to Oharu. Rearing back in gentle surprise, Souji pulled in a little gasp and asked, wide-eyed, Anou, whats this? Reaching behind the boys ear, Soujis hand suddenly revealed a flower. He glanced at the boy, whose mouth was open and ovalled, and went on to produce two more flowers from nowhere: the boys ears turned redder than the blossoms.
The children were on their feet by this time. Haru-chan didnt have the beans. Aniki lost!
Souji threw back his head and laughed. Alright, he leaned down to pull Oharu into his arms for an embrace that included all of nature. There were times like this when he almost felt as though he was an untarnished piece of crystal, clear and pristine, gathering up love like light and scattering it in all directions, and the sensation was nearly physical.
I was born for this. he thought, eyes closed against the bright sunshine that broke through the clouds, the child settling onto his back.
It was the simple truth. Nothing else explained his life.
That evening, he had to escort five children, the last of whom was the son of the lugubrious innkeeper who did for the Shinsengumi once a week and had been born and bred in the heart of Kyoto. He had been more sullen than usual, rudely kicking a broom so that it lay across the doorway. For moment Souji was baffled, then he realised that his sleeve had lifted as he reached out his arm, and the innkeeper had seen the small knife tucked in his sash.
So much for misplaced loyalty, he thought. He was about to continue on his way when he heard a clear voice roll out through the inn with the familiar words, a voice that Souji had never heard employed in song and yet at once recognised.
Mother turns
When I beckon
As if to say farewell
There is nothing but to cry
Souji placed the broom neatly against the door and entered the inn. The plaintive song continued:
Oh, how sad, how sad
Mother unlike a flower
In the bed of the fading dew
The mirror of wisdom clouds over
He walked down the long entrance hall, past the hostile innkeeper, to whom he made an apologetic bow. He felt as though he were walking in the air, not touching the ground at all, down the dark hall. Into the dark
Are you leaving? Oh, the pain.
To the forest where I dwell
I shall return
I come for you
Souji heard the voice shake, as if the words were right words for what was in the persons mind. He opened the screen doors before him and completed the last lines of the song.
Across the fields and across the hills
Passing through the villages
For whom do you come? For you.
I come for you.
And he walked forward into the room, settling opposite the other occupant, who had fallen mute when Souji entered.
I hope you dont mind some company tonight, Tatsu. Drinking can get quite lonesome after all.
It had helped to have something impersonal to talk about, to give kendo lessons, to play with the children, but they had been at this now for three hours, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate
The trouble with illusions, he thought as Tatsu filled his cup, is that you arent aware you have any until they are taken from you. There had been Matsumoto-sensei, several rounds of disgustingly bitter brew. He had thrown the first few bowls onto the soil outside until Hijikata-san found out and told him flatly. If you treated anyone else as you have treated yourself during the past three months, you would be guilty of assault. From this moment on, you will show your body the respect it deserves. You will allow it to heal and then you will embark only on sensible missions. You will eat regularly and rest properly. You will care for your own body as you would for that of a friend to whom you are indebted. You will cease to arrogate to yourself responsibility that lies elsewhere. Is that clear? In two months time, you will report to me and we will examine in detail the missions upon which you were sent, Hijikata-san had said, his voice hardening suddenly as he pronounced each
word separately, by your superiors.
There had been a long moment, before Souji bowed deeply from where he was kneeling, hands on his knees, looking properly chastened.
What would he tell Hijikata-san when he came back from his trip to Edo? How much did he know anyway? He imagined a creature, all teeth and mouth, eating away at his lungs and wondered how he had before the destruction became too extensive and complete. He could still give his lessons, carry out his patrols efficiently, pull outrageous pranks and he had a very useful piece of cloth hidden in his robes. That was it. That was how it was going to be
He realised then that Tatsu had spoken and a denser silence had fallen on the room. How long have I been sitting like this? he wondered. Souji reached for his cup again, stalling for time. Im sorry, he apologised, looking at Tatsu after a few moments. Did you say something?
I found out this morning. Yohji died.
Souji was almost pleased that another news, a more serious one, should overshadow the silliness of his. Im sorry.
You neednt be. You dont know him.
Youre upset after all.
No, said Tatsu, or rather, Im upset that Im not.
And even now you havent forgiven him?
Ive forgiven him everything. But thats not the point. I told you about that strange feeling of joy I had when I decided, back then, not to see him anymore. I was cold as snow. Well, his death hasnt changed that feeling at all.
Souji poured the sake into Tatsus cup. Tatsu stared at it for a while: At the end of our last encounter, he began to reminisce. When he did that, I understood the sole meaning of friendship as it is today. Friendship is indispensable to man for the proper function of his memory. To ensure that the self doesnt shrink, memories have to be refreshed by regular contact with friends.
He swallowed a mouthful of sake. But I dont care about what I used to do! I have always wanted something else entirely: friendship as a value prized above all else. Friendship, to me, was proof of the existence of something stronger than ideology, than nation. In the Suikoden, the heroes often find themselves on opposite sides and thus required to fight against one another. But that doesnt affect their friendship. They still go on helping one another, secretly, without giving a damn for the truths of their respective camps. They put their friendship above the truth, or the cause, above everything. He went on after a pause. I liked to say: between life and a friend, I always choose the friend.
Tatsu fell silent, took another swallow, and came back with a new thought: How is friendship born? Certainly as an alliance against enemies; maybe we have become such that we are strong enough to face enemies without friends.
Souji sipped from his cup and wrinkled his nose. If thats true, that should have brought you to reconcile with Yoshimura-san.
I freely acknowledge that he would not have understood my reproaches if Id made them known to him. I was wrong to hope for more from him than neutrality. When my parents were killed, I was running an errand in town. We had a couple of bottles of sake and I stayed the night, too drunk to make the trip home. He kept quiet throughout. But I have to be fair: he considered his silence to be noble. He thought he had kept his promise and saved my life in a way that did not betray his ideals. So his conscience was clear, and he must have felt wounded when, inexplicably, I stopped seeing him.
Was that the only reason?
Tatsu wished that he had not asked that question.
No, he said, Yohji broke a promise we made as children years ago.
Outside, a voice called out the second watch. Eight more hours before his next patrol. Souji said half in jest: We seem to have talked about nearly everything regarding Yoshimura-san except that promise. Wed better leave it till tomorrow night.
You dont believe in promises, do you?
No. Why?
Why indeed. People wouldnt have much direction in life without promises.
People lose their direction in life because they made certain promises.
Tatsu frowned. Chushingura Im sure you are familiar with the it.
Yes, Souji nodded. It was Kondou-sans favourite story.
The forty-seven roushi drifting men, men without a master, without direction were bound together by a simple promise to avenge their lord.
But people change, Souji said quietly.
Precisely. People change. Cultures change. Clans rise and fall. Which is why promises are such a tricky business. Because nothing stays the same forever. He leaned on the low table, eyes focused somewhere on the screen doors. Maybe because so few of us would be able to give up something so fundamental for something so abstract, we protect ourselves from the nobility of a samurais promise by jeering at him when he cant live up to them, always and forever. He shivered and slumped suddenly. But what unnatural words! Always and forever. Those are not mortal words, Okita-san. Not even stones are always and forever.
Until you get the measure of your own beliefs, Tatsu, dont be quick to condemn your friend, or anyone else for that matter. Im not blaming you, Souji said hurriedly, looking a little sheepish. Its just that, until youve been there, you cant know what its like to hold yourself to promises you made in good faith a long time ago.
He had been speechless at that. Okita-san had a perceptiveness that shocked him sometimes. A promise is a promise, Tatsu wanted him to say, so he could be angry with Yohji and hate his father for putting his family in danger and believe that it would be different for him; that he would never run out on his wife for what? A mere ideal? He wanted to believe that love, when it came to him, would be always and forever.
And while the words rang in the air, Souji lifted his cup but only rotated it slowly in his fingers, watching the golden glow in the low light. There is something beautiful about wanting good impulses to be permanent and true forever, he said. And we truly mean it, at the time. But two or twenty or a hundred years down the road, who is to say if the world would be worse if things did not turn out the way we want them to?
Tatsu asked himself how he would feel if he found out someday that Yohji had kept his vow, always and forever. To his surprise, he leaned toward sad. I dont think you quite understand the situation.
And did you? Could you have anticipated it? Souji said mildly. Maybe we would all do better not trying to understand.
Since the insignificance of all things is our lot, we should not bear it as an affliction but learn how to enjoy it. That was what you meant, wasnt it? Souji closed his eyes at the pain in the voice, and tried not to hear or think. But Tatsu came stumbling up towards him, and when he reached him he put out one shaky hand and grasped Souji by the collar.
Light glimmered around them as if the moon was in their room, yet the light came only from the lamp, burning like a cold torch. Tatsu said, Have you always thought so? Always
He was gazing at Souji like a man begging for his life, pleading. Do good people suffer because it was better that way? Was there no better explanation?
Souji said unhappily, Better? For the first time since Tatsu had come to know him, his voice was without conviction, seeking, lost. Better? When Asano drew his katana in the presence of the shogun, guided by Kiras villainy, it led to his disgrace and the subsequent bloodshed; but people generations after still speak of the noble deeds of his loyal retainers. It makes life more bearable if we see that things always turn out in the best possible way under the given circumstances. He gently removed Tatsus limp hand. I used to avoid children because they remind me of what I could have had. Whats the good in that? Unlike me, they will always be innocent, always guiltless. In my case, innocence would probably be a kind of insanity.
And Tatsu thought: Tetsu has always spoken about how Okita-san hated killing. What exactly does it mean then? How can a person hate a thing and at the same time adapt to it so readily? Is having two faces such a triumph?
The hell with Yohji, Tatsu said bitterly. He lurched across the room and slammed open the screen door. You are like spies no, like collaborators all of you. You serve the detestable side of yourself without identifying with it, work for it while keeping separate from it, and will one day, standing before your conscience, defend yourself by claiming that you had two different faces.
He stopped in the doorway and stood there, astonished, for almost a minute, because he was still alive and breathing. He said without moving, not daring to look back. Please
Okita-san
have a heart
Tetsu is only a child, dont let him know about this
Your head is in no danger of rolling, Souji assured him with undisguised amusement. One thing I hate about leading a squad is that almost everyone always asks permission to speak frankly. You have been a true friend to Yoshimura-san, despite what you think. Say whatever you want. And please call me Souji, we are about the same age after all.
Taken aback, Tatsu gave a short laugh, knowing himself to be utterly incapable of calling this man Souji, but then he asked, What would you say to your conscience then?
It was Soujis turn to be taken aback. He realised that perhaps no one not even Hijikata-san had any answers and that was either the most comforting thing he had learned or the most discouraging. Patience. It will take as long as it takes. I have no idea. There are so few ways to assuage the sense of guilt. I suppose I would not bother to defend myself.
He stepped in front of Tatsu, standing in plain sight and waiting until Tatsu noticed him.
Come on, Tatsu, Souji said softly. Lets get you home.
The End
Thanks to my dearest Sweet Potato for beta-reading.
This is
what? The 6th month into my Souji obsession. When I first started this series, I told myself that I would try to avoid angst. Evidently the promise was not always and forever and I soon found myself surrendering to the oh-so-lovely sensation of sliding down the slippery slope of Doom-doom-DOOM.
However, you shall pardon me for contradicting myself in the next breath. I love this fic to bits, even if no one else does. It was so frustrating, finding the right voice. I actually completed a draft for Susumu and Souji, but it didnt sound right. No, it sounded downright weird. Then I tried Souji and Saitou. The draft turned violent and I aborted it since I didnt know how to end a fight between people who can kill with sake cups if they want to. Laughs at imagery. So. I had to settle for a tipsy Tatsu and re-write everything. Sighs.
Navel-gazers are exhausting. I think I need some time to recuperate. Howls. Why does it get harder to write with each fic? It is supposed to get easier, isnt it?
Next up: Itou, Hijikata and Saitou are on a looong trip to Edo. Will Hijikata keep his promise in Morning Madness? Dont read Kaze no Hikaru if you do not want to be spoilt.
Notes:
1) Regarding Yoshimura Yohji, he is an OC, but this is not the first time youve read about him; nor will it be the last.
2) Suikoden: The Chinese classic Heroes of the Water Margin was first introduced to Japan in 1728. Despite its suppression by the shogunate, it remained wildly popular among the common folk. Its popularity rose to fervent levels in the dying days of the Bakufu.
3) Chushingura: Well
The 47 ronins. I am sure you know the story.
4) One must assume that this is not the first time the two characters have interacted as such. Viewed this way, the fic would make that much more sense.
---------------------------------
Relax. Yahoo! Mail virus scanning helps detect nasty viruses!
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]