Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Saitou first arrives he strikes them all as different, but also not so different. Heisuke sees it first in the way Souji reacts to him. That smile and how eager Souji is to pass the bokken off to Saitou. They all want to see what he can do. It’s not often they get a visitor looking to test their dojo, especially not one bringing just his name and a willingness to take on Souji who's got that look on his face. It’s the one that spells pain nine times out of ten. Heisuke knows Souji though, and there are a few slight differences in his expression. His smiles stretches into a tension in his jaw that says he’s taking Saitou more seriously than he does most opponents. And his eyes, well they always have some kind of spark in them, but the eagerness Heisuke finds there means Saitou must be something special.

If Souji sees it too, then he can’t be wrong to think that this will be something they haven’t seen. Or at least something he hasn’t seen yet. Apparently Sano and Shinpachi had sparred when they met, and nearly wrecked the place in the process.

Saitou doesn’t seem like the type to do much wrecking though. It’s not weakness, but he looks like he could blend himself in to a number of different backgrounds with little difficulty. Adapting is a survival skill. They all know that. Have all had to make certain adjustments to reach this point. Heisuke himself has worked at keeping his core the same while reforging his edges.

He’s not the only one.

Even if he burns himself a little too deeply sometimes, it’s been proven that Souji is a master at that transforming process. Saitou will tell them if he is too. They’ll just have to listen a little more closely. His movements don’t disturb anything, and he doesn’t speak so loudly either. Nothing is in danger of being damaged or jostled. Souji is the only target. Saitou’s shoulders carry precision on them. Each foot fall as he steps up to meet Souji is almost gliding. Heisuke wonders if that’s an acquired skill too, or if some people are just born with that kind of elegance. He knows he wasn’t. Trying to make it down the hall after curfew without Hijikata-san noticing is next to impossible for him.

He looks up at Sano while Shinpachi steps forward to judge the match. Sano nods towards the two of them. Watch. Heisuke doesn’t need to be told twice that this is going to be the kind of match you wish you could see again and again. To keep watching until you can make sense of how two people have transformed themselves into that kind of strength. He only wishes he could get more of a read on Saitou, but there’s nothing save for a stone-steady calm. So much so that Heisuke wants to reach out a hand and make sure his skin is actually warm and not sharp. It’s stupid, Saitou’s obviously human, it’s just a matter of what kind of guy he is. Next to him, Sano crosses his arms as Souji and Saitou each take up their stances.

Souji’s always look almost playful, while Saitou’s… Wait.

That’s when he notices it.

“Sano-san, he’s-” Heisuke tries to gesture without making it too obvious what he’s pointing to. It’s probably mostly unsuccessful, he’s been told he’s loud in more ways than one.

“He’s left-handed.” Sano frowns to himself, more thoughtfulness than anything else.

“That’s strange, isn’t it?” It only adds to his interest. One more thing to turn over again and again while he tries to figure Saitou out. It still feels like he’s dropping as much as he’s picking up. Kind of like when you grab a handful of snow and try to count as many individual snowflakes as you can before it melts. Not a very accurate method, and the leftover water is too slippery to make heads or tails of.

Saitou doesn’t seem to need to be held onto or analyzed in that way though. He’s unflinchingly solid in his position that’s an inversion of Souji’s. It changes everything and nothing given the rules of engagement.

Pretty much any sword master Heisuke can think of would insist on correcting his stance. Not only is a left-handed stance unusual, it must harder to work around in any unit. The risk of catching the guy next to you while drawing seems like it would be a very real possibility, and few commanders would want a guy who’s that kind of inconvenient risk. That thought makes his stomach sink onto a spine of loneliness. Although, maybe his sympathy should be realigned to fit the beating Souji is looking to give Saitou. Hijikata-san has chewed Souji out for scaring away potential students more than once.

But Saitou is different.

He doesn’t shy away from Souji’s intentions, and Shinpachi’s signal to start only seems to stir a further concentration. There’s nothing panicked or frantic even though from his very first attack Heisuke can tell he’s one of the fastest swordsmen he’s ever seen. It’s precise and structured. He has the kind of polish you can only get from real combat. Souji’s motions are more relaxed by contrast, but that relaxation is only surface deep. They both step into each other and meet blow for blow.

Since when has Souji had to start on the defensive?

Shinpachi stays silent, just watching for any sign of the first hit. The tiny margin some of their attacks miss by would be pretty terrifying if they were using real blades. It’s admirable though. The way Saitou doesn’t seem phased by fighting in a new place, against a totally new opponent. Heisuke remembers sparring Shinpachi his first day here, and how nervous he was underneath the joy of being welcomed. He also remembers the bruise across his stomach from when he lost. He’d actually grown kind of found of those shades of purple and blue. Shinpachi’s kindness had been a bit more physical than most. It had been even easier to appreciate when physically driven home. I see you, and we’re equals. That respect had made wedges of bitterness start to melt into something he could finally swallow.

If Saitou’s lucky, Souji’s greeting will be just as powerful. It’s Souji, so it should be. He has a tendency towards brilliance in the potency of both his attacks and his messages. Riddles and jokes aside, his sentiments are pressed into his opponents and his friend’s palms all the same. Sometimes slicing, sometimes not.

Which kind of mark Souji will use for Saitou is still up in the air, but shapes are starting to appear.

They go back and forth, circling each other and circling questions. The grips on each of their bokkens is almost identical. The weight of a real sword is in both of their minds and in their hands. He flinches a few times for them as if he can absorb the shock of the blows neither of them are outwardly reacting to. Their adjustments are so tiny, and only get less noticeable as they fit themselves to each other’s styles. Heisuke can even hear Shinpachi gasp after one especially brutal connection. No bokken on body contact yet though…

Usually, by this time in a fight he’d be pretty confident picking who’s going to win. Not today. They just go and go and go. Making demands of each other’s skills and answering each one. It’s a conversation few can really appreciate the intonations of. At one point some blows start connecting, Souji’s first and then Saitou’s in answer, but Shinpachi’s yell to stop doesn’t reach either of them. Souji grits his teeth, and Saitou accelerates through what must definitely sting.

Heisuke wants to reach for his own weapon to try and break them up before they pummel each other too badly. But he doesn’t. Intervening now would be as effective as tossing a kite into a storm and asking it to drag the wind to a halt. No way that would work. Still-

It would be a shame if Souji were break Saitou’s jaw before Heisuke can say hello properly. Souji’s not holding anything back from his swings. Blade or no blade, if he lands one of those in the right place bones will snap. Equally as much as he wants Saitou to get through this in one piece, Heisuke would rather not have to deal with an injured Souji. It takes a collective effort to herd him towards any medical attention, and even more effort to get him to use things like ointment or ice. Patient Souji makes for an irritated Hijikata-san, and that’s painful for everyone involved.

Ironically, it’s Hijikata-san who finally ends the match. Well at least he’s the one who orders an end to it when he bursts through the door in the doom-bringing fashion only he seems to be capable of. It’s the three of them that go to pull Souji and Saitou off each other. Heisuke loops his arms around Souji and braces. Even with Shinpachi’s strength they get pulled forward a few centimeters before Souji comes to a complete stop. His breath is rough both in Heisuke’s ears and beneath his fingers. Each hiss tells Heisuke something he stores away for later.

“That’s enough, Souji.” He half-whispers to him, allowing his grip to loosen a bit when Souji lets the bokken lower to his side.

When Souji’s shoulders drop along with that relaxation, Heisuke can catch a glimpse of Saitou. Sanosuke’s holding onto to him pretty tightly, but Saitou doesn’t do anything to fight the grip. Instead he just watches Souji for a minute, and Heisuke thinks gratitude would be a safe bet for what he’s seeing. That and acknowledgement. Only now that they’re holding still does it dawn on him that Saitou’s young. Probably around his age. The afternoon sun is caught on his skin and sweat, but the lines and angles it rests on are definitely from challenges and not years. It’s not a worn look. Saitou still strikes him as more beautiful than rugged for as dangerous as he obviously is.

Heisuke can’t remember the last time any match involving Souji was a draw.

Souji can’t either if the way he laugh-snarls at Hijikata-san for interrupting is any indication.

They let Souji go at the same time Sano lets Saitou go. It’s difficult not to hold his breath for a moment, but no one lunges back at the other.

“You’re good.” Hijikata-san turns to Saitou. Heisuke’s not sure if he expected Hijikata-san to scold a stranger, but the genuine warmth of his compliment makes Heisuke smile for Saitou.

“But my swordsmanship is,” Saitou tightens his grip on the bokken, “not what is expected.”

It’s a test, isn’t it? Saitou throwing out that nagging question and waiting for them to remember to be affected by it.

“That doesn’t change anything. You’re strong regardless of what others expect.” Hijikata-san steps towards Saitou patting him on the shoulder, “Kondo-san will like you.”

Souji’s smile is still wrung around the remains of adrenaline, but it’s genuine. “It’s harder to fight someone who's method doesn’t have any techniques made to counteract it.”

It’s true. If Souji wasn’t as talented as he is, he would have been struggling just to come up with an answer to the question posed by the added challenge of attacks coming from opposite side. And not just attacks, everything. Saitou steps in starting with the other foot. He turns away to dodge going the other direction. It’s double edged though. It also means Saitou has to account for that same reversal in his opponents. It’s just he has a lot more practice with it than most.

“Thank you.” Saitou looks at all them briefly in turn before focusing on Hijikata-san and what he offers. The way he adjusts his scarf might be to hide a smile.

Heisuke really hopes so.

“I would hope Souji at least gave you his name before he attacked you.” Souji answers Hijikata-san’s question with nothing but a wolfish grin. Their dynamic is something else. Probably best Saitou gets a taste of it now if he’s going to be around, “I’m Hijikata Toshizou. The others can introduce themselves.”

It’s the permission to approach he’s been waiting for. Greetings have always been a favorite of his, and the opportunity to welcome another person to their family of sorts isn’t one he’d easily pass up. It’s only fair. After the kindness they’d all offered him when he came here with nothing to offer but the need to find a place where he could feel at home. It always sounds easier than it is. None of them found each other on their first try, but they all ended up here. He’s only just seen Saitou today, but the way he came asking for both a fight and a place through that exchange touches Heisuke’s memories in a way that bruises and tickles.

“I’m Toudou Heisuke.” Now that they’re up close, he’s even more sure that him and Saitou are similar in age. It also doesn’t hurt that Saitou’s not quite as tall as the other guys. Being closer to eye level is something he appreciates. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Saitou looks carefully at him, but Heisuke doesn’t read any danger. He’s been analyzed by guys wanting to do him harm in the past. You can usually see it no matter how hard they try to cover it. Distain, distrust, disgust, aggression. They’re all too difficult for most people to conceal. Few people have a mask that thick. Heiesuke’s young and optimistic, but not foolish. He wouldn’t have made it out of his old domain without at least some sense. His introduction must’ve been enough for Saitou. The small almost smile, and a nod are things Heisuke will hold onto. To give acceptance and have that offer received helps lift some of the fears that still linger in between bones and under muscles.

There’s more he’d like to ask, like to say, but Shinpachi has an excellent way of butting in. Clapping his arm around Saitou’s shoulders so hard that Sano groans for Saitou is just like Shinpachi. “And I’m Nagakura Shinpachi. Welcome!”

It’s loud and enthusiastic and supportive. Everything Shinpachi is, is wrapped up into one introduction. Shinpachi and Saitou will definitely end up having a match at some point, Shinpachi will demand it. Or more like he’ll plead for it and potentially follow Saitou around until that happens. It might make for a nice opportunity to make fun of Shinpachi if he loses. At least Shinpachi’s noise doesn’t seem to bother Saitou. Heisuke can relate. Everything aside Shinpachi and Sano are his best friends. They’re the kind of friends he had always wanted, and getting the chance to share them with someone else who is in need of the kind of bonds he’s found at Shiekan is fulfilling in its own way.

“Shinpachi, don’t knock him over.” Sano sighs, but it doesn’t stop him from smiling. “My name is Harada Sanosuke. You were impressive there.”

“Thank you.” Saitou’s gratitude is fascinating. He folds it into this soft kind of envelope and hands it over with the utmost care. Each word is both fluid and firm. It would be nice to just listen to Saitou talk. It might remind him of when he was young and he’d lay right under the window to listening to the rain fall. “I appreciate the welcome.”

“Of course! We’re always happy to get guys like you to come around.” Or well, a guy like you would probably be more accurate. They don’t have any duplicate personalities here. It’s the dedication Heisuke’s thinking of. The amount of work it takes to get as good as Saitou. The time it takes to travel farther and farther until maps and signs uncurl into places and one place finally transforms into the place.

“You still need to meet Kondo-san.” Making sure Saitou goes to get Kondo-san’s approval is Souji’s way of welcoming Saitou. He almost laughs to himself at Souji’s thinly veiled enthusiasm.

“He’ll return soon, and you can meet him.” Hijikata-san’s voice is business and kindness all at once. It makes sense on him. For as many bruises as Heisuke’s received, the way Hijikata-san and Kondo-san hold them all together is something he doesn’t mind get smacked for. Concern is just expressed pretty creatively when it comes to Hijikata-san.

Saitou pauses almost like he’s trying to make sense of those words. Checking them over, once, twice, three times. Then he nods. The motion is careful and measured. Heisuke’s confused in the handful of things that are made clear by that. Saitou’s certain and uncertain. Guarded but willing. Young but aged. Or maybe he’s misreading. That’s not an impossibility. First meetings are usually not the whole picture, and snap judgements spill into trouble. Optimism is the choice he tries to make more often than not. And what Saitou showed them makes that seem like a safe bet.

It’s difficult to account for everywhere a person a has been. Saitou probably has ten different kinds of dust under his shoes, and a couple versions of rain tucked beneath his kimono. These things add up even after you wash them away. Heisuke knows he still wears things from his old home where nobody can read them. Some he’s kept by choice, others tag along whether he likes it or not. Wondering what Saitou has packed, and what has tied itself to his ankles is something Heisuke wants to find out when he’s earned that kind of trust.

If Saitou gives him the opportunity to.

Maybe he won’t stay here long. Heisuke hopes he does, but the only one who can decide that is Saitou himself. Nobody has ever been forced to stay here, the door going out is always open the same width as the door coming in. Maybe it’s because Hijikata-san and Kondo-san chose the life of a samurai that they’re so in tune to the strength of the different life-spun fibers that make up a choice.

Regardless, it would be nice to think that they can offer Saitou something that makes his travels worth more than they were when he set out. They have valuable things that they’ve stitched into each other using threads dyed by each other, their experiences serving as pigments that can’t be replicated. If Saitou takes at least a few of those colors, Heisuke will be happy.

~~~

It is only his third time visiting the only dojo that had said yes to him, but he has been greeted like he was returning home. It feels strange each time he receives that affirmation, but the strangeness comes not from the sentiment but from its newness. This group he has found folds him into their routine every time he arrives. Saitou is still unsure of how much to take and how much to give. What he brought had been accepted, what he has been given back is more than enough. Where to go from there, too much, too little or just right… That kind of balance asks questions of him, but nobody here demands an answer.

He’s enough for the first time in some time.

They likely do not see just how much their actions have relieved him of a stifling solitude. That only makes it all the more humbling to receive. To them, it’s no grand gesture, rather it is just three times they have told him to come back whenever he so chooses. Currently, he doesn’t stay here for more than a day at a time, that sort of imposition is too heavy in what it would implicate, but the offer always stands waiting for him. There are no strings waiting to bind up his hands, or blades prodding his left side for a blackness that supposedly grants him victories without true skill.

Expressing his gratitude for their unconscious understanding comes in small gestures that he can give without giving so much that he risks leaving himself with the absence of something that cannot be returned. A few sparring matches, teaching a handful of lessons, and assisting where he can with any injuries afterwards are well within what is a comfortable exchange. They push his skills, and he shows them techniques that he has rarely had a chance to use. They also give him the chance to help build their less experienced students. While there are a few holdouts, most of the students have regarded him warmly despite his different style. It probably has something to do with the very atmosphere of this place.

Looking around, they have quite an interesting puzzle snapped together.

Souji is obviously well trained, but he too is unorthodox in his own way. He takes the expected and breaks it back into base elements that he rebuilds into movements that are both exact and chaotic in their devastation. Shinpachi is unshakable with an admirably meticulous attention to form and function. Harada’s spear work is a unique challenge, and not just from the difference in weapon. Heisuke fuses boundless energy into focused precision.

It’s easy to see why Hijikata-san wants these men together if not for their skill, then for the meshing of personalities. Saitou is not opposed to working with others. Numbers achieve things that a single swordsman cannot. True loyalty is rare, however. Maybe that is why he has never found a place where teamwork seemed viable. No matter which hand he swings with, the self-serving nature of so many he has met does not change. There is nothing wrong with looking after one’s own interests, but Saitou has seen enough to know how cheaply comrade’s souls are sold in the name of individual goals. There does not appear to be any price assigned to the bonds here.

Saitou slips his real blade back into position after placing the practice bokken aside. Today’s matches were particularly heated, although it doesn’t seem to have worn anyone out. Everyone still buzzes with an energy that he finds difficult to peel himself away from.

“Shinpachi got your shoulder, right?” Souji grins at him while yanking Heisuke back to his feet after their match. Heisuke squawks something that Saitou doesn’t quite catch, but Souji’s laughter says enough. “We might have ice if you ask Hijikata-san nicely.”

“Thank you, but I am fine.” Saitou is slowly catching onto what Souji seems to think constitutes humor. There are things behind those jokes that he leaves where they are. Souji knows what he is doing. He shares when he wants to share whether he is aware of it or not.

Saitou’s shoulder will bruise, but no worse than Shinpachi’s ribs and hip. Their match was the kind Saitou always appreciates, an exchange where they both walk away with more than a win or loss.

“You should come drinking with us sometime!” That voice is far less winded than someone who just spent the last few hours training should be. It is not surprising though. Shinpachi’s energy is a pleasant one. Exuberant and thoughtful rolled into one. He probably does make an amusing drinking companion.

“Shinpachi, stop trying to get him to pay for your booze.” Harada’s teasing is fond, and Heisuke’s failing attempts at trying not to laugh make the exchange feel even more familiar.

“Yeah Shinpachi. He might have beat you, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t feel sorry enough for you to take you drinking.” Heisuke leaps just out of reach when Shinpachi lunges.

Witnessing that type of closeness provides second hand joy. Saitou can thumb through the fun those three must have together just from what he has seen today. The ink in that book is still wet, each day probably writes a new entry and Saitou is happy for them. They don’t seem like they would mind if he were to use that ink to leave a few fingerprints of his own. Maybe they would even enjoy themselves trying to read him in the rings of those imprints.

“Damn it, Sano! I’m just trying to welcome him aboard and you have to starting say shit like that- And you better watch it, Heisuke!” The indignation has Saitou turning his head to hide any amusement that he is not successful in keeping off his face.

“It’s only fair to warn him.” Shinpachi shoves at Harada who grabs onto to his arms and starts to wrestle him back. They digress into fully grappling with each other. Their bond seems to be the kind that is spelled out in the marks on their skin as much as in their words. Physicality suits them.

“Saitou-san, over here.” Heisuke gestures for him to follow a safe distance away from the two’s antics. The way Heisuke slips around the slide of them with just enough distance to avoid getting caught by a stray fist or shoulder tells of scraps he’d been caught in himself. It is not surprising given what Saitou has seen and heard about the three of them, and what they’re capable of getting up to together.

“They’re lively.” It is an observation he didn’t quite intend to make out loud.

Heisuke surely knows this about them, and Saitou has never been one who feels compelled to state the obvious. Normally he chooses to share details of importance, of knowledge or guidance, sometimes a warning. Now he speaks to assign sound and syllables to the pleasant warmth that climbs up his core at realizing just how much happiness has a home here.

Still, the tone of his voice doesn’t reach quite as high as their laughter. That would require more breath than he currently has room for in his lungs. Those muscles must be built like any others. For as strong as he is in many areas, this is one place he finds himself short of the men around him. Everyone can find the tools to be happy, but the stamina to build it big enough to cover those around you is not as easy of a feat.

“Yeah,” Heisuke doesn’t seem disappointed by that. Rather he smiles up at Saitou like he is genuinely pleased by what he hears. In this moment Heisuke’s youthfulness slides into a kind of careful observation that reminds Saitou that he is mere months older than Heisuke, not years. He sees things Saitou thinks many would be hard pressed to find, “They get like that, and it’s fun. But I wanted to ask you something before things get too rowdy.”

Nodding for him to continue is fine. His newness here does not dissuade him from hoping he’ll have an answer Heisuke is interested in. Being asked questions can take on many different forms. Saitou has had questions on the ends of blades. He has had questions that had teeth, and others with none. Some more like pleads, and others completely cold to the touch.

“Do you want to stay and have dinner with us?” Heisuke’s voice is none of those things. Each word is so packed full that it loses some level of eloquence, but it makes up for it in sincerity. The lift on the end gathers up hopes and hands them to Saitou. Firm but not demanding. Saitou appreciates the gesture, and the invitation should not come as a surprise given that of all of them Heisuke always seems exude a kind of happiness that is always reaching to include those around him.

“I don’t wish to impose.” Finding a place to train is one matter, sharing their limited supply of food is another. They have invited him to stay for a meal each time he has stopped by, and each time he has politely declined. When it comes to swordsmanship he has plenty to contribute, but small talk over dinner seems infinitely more challenging. Although, maybe not as difficult as he originally thought.

“It’s not imposing. We want you here!” Heisuke’s offer takes any threat of obligation off the table, and sets out a genuine interest in Saitou’s company in its place. How Heisuke manages that so easily is a mystery he can smile to himself about. Everyone has their talents, and while this is not the type of personality one would expect from most warriors, Heisuke wears it well.

“All right.” He’ll stay. Not indefinitely, but sharing a meal or maybe a few more won’t change much. He can help wash dishes afterwards. And clean up the dining hall. Perhaps Hijikata-san has paperwork that needs organized. “Thank you, Toudou.”

“Great!” Heisuke bounces on his heels, but a strange expression crosses his face. Not quite a frown, but his lips twitch like there’s something sour behind his teeth, “Oh, and Saitou…”

“Yes?”

“Just Heisuke is fine.” His smile is back full force, “...Toudou feels a bit stiff, I guess.”

In that instant he realizes that although his mind has learned to pair these men with the entireties of their names, given and family, he has continued to refer to them all by family name only when speaking. Out of politeness, and out of habit. He is still enough of a stranger here that doing otherwise would feel presumptuous. However…

“Okay, Heisuke.” Saitou does not think the chill that comes with Heisuke’s family name is entirely coincidental given his reaction to it in contrast with his normal demeanor. It would usually feel strange to refer to someone so new to him so casually, but his desire for Heisuke’s comfort quiets any unease. Asking would be invasive, but he wonders how many times Heisuke has had to warm his hands after handling whatever strings are wrapped around that name.

It feels nice to use his given name, anyway. Closeness and trust are tied into that request, and accepting those is a privilege.

“That’s better!” Heisuke leads him towards the common room, his step a little lighter. “You’re in luck that Shinpachi and Sano are cooking tonight instead of Souji and me. I’m fine! But Souji’s awful.”

“I’m not particular when it comes to meals.” Tofu has always been a favorite of his, but turning away food based on preference is a foolish and expensive habit to get into.

“Oh no, Souji’s cooking borders on inedible.” The cringe that twists up Heisuke’s mouth is telling. “But don’t tell him I told you that. Revenge Souji-style isn’t fun.”

“I won’t.” A lack of cooking ability is hardly a dangerous secret to keep. Of all of the things he keeps in his mind and out of his words, this is surprisingly mundane. This type of confidential information serves more as amusing scrap of insulation, rather than a needle that requires being stabbed into the skin to avoid falling out at an inopportune time.

“Hijikata-san!” Heisuke’s call bounces down the halls. He steps a little closer to Saitou, and the response he receives indicates why.

“Heisuke-” Hijikata-san steps out of one of the rooms with a distinct exasperation clinging to his back. It’s somewhat reminiscent of a mother preparing to give a scolding that the child could probably repeat verbatim by now. Saitou expects that Hijikata-san’s version probably leans more towards the aggressive side, “We’ve discussed yelling while I’m working. Do you need a reminder?”

“I’m sorry, I just-” Heisuke takes a small step back, tugging Saitou’s wrist forward, “He’s staying for dinner! That’s ok, right?”

Being used as a shield against Hijikata-san’s frustrations does not bother him, and Heisuke’s grip is light enough he could break it with minimal effort. It’s not force, rather it is presenting him, and whatever Heisuke seems to think he has to offer to Hijikata-san. Wanted is not a bad thing to be.

“Of course. We’re always glad to have you.” Hijikata-san’s smile is one Saitou enjoys. It isn’t common, and it doesn’t seem to linger long, but it does not need to. Hijikata-san’s actions and expressions speak clearly. That clarity is welcoming in the comfort of purpose and drive that Saitou recognizes so well. He seems like the type to treat his weapons well, and his comrades even better. There is much to admire in that.

“Thank you.” For the invitation, and for giving him a place to hang up the unsettled skin that has served as armor. Armor grows heavier the longer you walk, finding a place where it is not needed is a rarity and luxury he’s not sure he’ll ever grow completely used to. But he would like to try. Because these men all try, and that type of effort is contagious.

Hijikata-san nods. The movement is small but the affirmation is appreciated.

“Shinpatsuan and Sano-san will probably take another fifteen minutes or so.” Heisuke sighs in the direction of the kitchen, “I should set up the dinner hall, I guess.”

“I can help.” Busy work will help him to shake the feeling of uselessness he detests so much. Even if it is as simple as chores, having something to offer provides validation. Saitou has seen desires similar to his own all over Souji. Those reflections are a unique shade of green, but Saitou counts up their similarities all the same.

Heisuke opens his mouth then shuts it. Saitou almost hears him tell him not to worry about it, but he stops. Because Heisuke doesn’t view him as a guest so much as one of them, and Saitou is grateful for that. Grateful for how open he is in his expression and in his intentions.

“If you’ve got Heisuke willing to do chores, I might have to insist you stick around more often.” Hijikata-san’s tone is firm on the surface, but amusement breaks the surface on several syllables. Saitou picks out each of those tones, and pairs them with Heisuke’s mix of sputtering and an almost sheepish smile.

The melody he comes up with is one he has not heard before, but he would like to listen to more.

“Come on, I’ll show you where we eat.” Heisuke walks backwards down the hallway, bowing briefly to Hijikata-san. It’s not until he’s sure that Saitou is following that he turns back around, “Hijikata-san really likes you.”

How Heisuke says things with such ease is almost startling. His confidence in his assessment proves Saitou’s earlier assumption that Heisuke understands people well. He is practiced at lifting stories from skin and reading between those lines. It’s an enviable talent on the one hand, a burden on the other. The further you can reach into someone, the more difficult it is to untangle yourself from them. And given the life he has chosen, it is brave of Heisuke to have kept that trait so prominent.

“I appreciate his generosity.” Words are tools Saitou knows how to choose carefully.

He has forged masks from the patterns in which sentences leave his tongue. There is an intention to the majority of what he says, which leaves his spoken words less than most. He culls anything unnecessary, anything that does not fit, or fits too well. Maintaining the appropriate boundaries between self and others is important. This other, Heisuke, makes that task more challenging. Even the tap of Heisuke’s shoes against the wooden walkway is cheerful, and keeping pace with those steps is soothing. He thinks generosity was the correct choice. It’s stamped on each one of the men here in what they’ve received from Hijikata-san and Kondo-san.

“He’s not just being nice you know.” Heisuke smiles over his shoulder, slowing to walk more even with Saitou, “He sees something he likes in you, and I think the others see it too.”

A reply to that can’t seem to lift itself from Saitou’s throat when there is so much weight hanging from it. They see an image of him that must be more striking than the palette he paints himself with. It is not a lack of confidence in himself, he knows his skills and his strengths. He is comfortable in them. But analyzing himself to reshape everything into a sharp edge leaves a monochromatic flavor to his appearance. Each shade pulled from one color, working towards one goal. Heisuke says there is more. That he is not the only one who sees that more. Whether that implies Saitou’s edges are rougher than he thought isn’t clear.

Trying one more time to provide a response is not any easier, but Heisuke opens a door at the exact moment he attempts to speak. It is more than a little convenient. Heisuke loves sound, but he also seems to know silence. Or at least the need for words to cease when they refuse to come without bringing blood and scorched stories with them. Saitou has seen those types of spills, and the marks they leave behind can never quite be erased. Smeared around maybe, but each layer beneath is shaded in red and black reminders that preserve those sentiments on something simultaneously more and less pristine than pages.

“We’re just going to bring the trays that Sano and Shinpachi prepared out here.” Heisuke slides open the doors to the courtyard part way, most likely for fresh air. The weather is mild tonight, and the heat from the kitchen has made it a bit warm inside. “Do you care where you sit?”

“I don’t mind.”

“We’ll put you between Hijikata-san and Souji then. You can be a buffer, and neither of them steal food like Shinpachi.” He huffs through half a scowl, but his eyes still say fondness. Saitou can read him with ease, but it does not require much scrutiny. Heisuke does not conceal, not when it comes to these men he calls friends.

Maybe in other matters he would.

Everyone has at least one secret they have shredded into a hundred piece to keep it from being seen. Those tiny pieces stick to skin, coming into view when a sleeve slides off a wrist or hair falls over a shoulder. Saitou has places where he knows old words and older memories are scratched into him. He is not ashamed of them, is not even particularly concerned about anything on him being seen… But maybe that’s why his signifiers are so difficult for others to see, they are too deeply absorbed into him because he does not ever pick at them.

“I’ll start grabbing stuff out of the kitchen. Put Sannen-san Hijikata-san, Kondo-san, yourself, and Souji on one side and Shinpachi, Sano, and I will sit across from you guys.” Heisuke steps towards the kitchen before turning in almost a full circle while he gives out directions. His way of instructing is humorous in the way one hand taps against his hip while he thinks to himself.

“That is fine.” Reassuring Heisuke seems to help refocus him. Saitou has seen Heisuke have no trouble instructing some of the other men who stop by here, but when it comes to directing him he is more hesitant. It sounds more like an invitation rather than an instruction, as if he is worried that being too forceful will send Saitou off.

And he wants Saitou here.

That thought never quite holds still. Each time he tries to wrap his fingers around it, it glides up his arm or falls down his back. The sensation it leaves behind isn’t unpleasant.

Heisuke smiles once over his shoulder before leaving Saitou to step into the kitchen. The moment he walks through the door Shinpachi’s voice picks up. Something along the lines of an insult to Heisuke’s coordination, and whose fault it is for the thump that he hears. They snipe at each other back and forth with interruptions from Harada. The sharpness of their voices is just a crown over the laughter beneath. The depth is soothing to listen to. So much so that he could dip his fingers in it and allow that smoothness to sooth the stings from every time his hand was slapped away in rejection.

“-damn old man! You heard me…” Heisuke cuts off his jab at Shinpachi when he steps back in carrying two trays. He lifts the one in his right hand, “Okay, so this one is Souji’s. His has no green onions. And the other one is yours.”

The quantity of food isn’t much, but Saitou expected as much given what he knows about the dojos financial situation. Kindness is expensive in more senses than one, and the return on that investment hardly ever comes in the form of currency. Dinner smells nice though. Shinpachi and Harada are perhaps not the most elegant in their preparation, but the care is apparent. It’s a common thread woven throughout everyone and everything here.

Heisuke explains each tray as it comes out. Who enjoys what type of food, and what they absolutely will not eat. The detail in which he describes it all is something else. Heisuke takes stars from his own mind and dots them onto the insides of Saitou’s eyelids. The constellations become things like how excited Souji gets when someone brings home konpeito, and days when Kondo-san cooks and does his best to make a little bit of what he thinks is everyone’s favorites. It is all very animated thanks to Heisuke’s voice and the how his ponytail follows half a second after the rest of him. That stream of motion is comfortable company while Heisuke helps him finish setting out everyone’s trays.

He is so comfortable in Heisuke’s memories that it takes him a moment to realize that Heisuk is asking a question, “So what’s your favorite food?”

“Anything you are having is ok.” Extra effort to add a personal favorite of his to the meal is unnecessary.

“That’s not what I asked. What do you enjoy eating most?” It’s not sharp in anyway, but it prods Saitou for a little more information.

“Tofu.” If Heisuke is so interested in him, an answer like this is easy to give.

Heisuke wrinkles his nose before he starts to laugh, “I’ll make sure we have some tofu next time you eat here. You can even have mine.”

It takes him a moment to push aside his offense on behalf of tofu.

Next time. If Heisuke is already anticipating Saitou’s next meal, maybe it would not be assuming too much for him look forward to it too. The others file in when Harada yells that dinner is ready, and the energy in the room picks up on a unique current with each arrival. It is complimentary. Souji’s dark humor leans against Heisuke’s excited chattering, and Hijikata-san sighing tangles in Kondo-san’s laughter. Sannen-san’s softness brushes the loudness of Shinpachi and Harada’s voices into something smoother.

They are good people. What is good is dependent on who is asked to define that word, but it’s the first thing that comes to his mind when they are all sitting together like this. Even away from swords and scuffles there is cohesion that each and every one of them reaffirms in their words and in their actions. That in and of itself requires a certain level of courage. To choose to ingrain yourself within others. To trust them to carry vital parts of yourself, and trust yourself to do the same for them.

If he can be a part of that he would be happy. That kind of purpose will serve him well. He hopes he will serve them well in whatever capacity is decided upon.

~~~

Saitou is very skilled, and very fast. Heisuke has known both of these things since the first time he saw him, but only now is he experiencing the extent of those observations. Sparring with Saitou is a rush for certain. Each attack is so precisely placed with almost no indication of where it will be coming from until the instant before it’s about to land. He’s admittedly been on the defensive more often than not for much of this match. That’s ok though. Because each time Saitou steps in, Heisuke appreciates the closeness even if there are clashing bokken between them.

Each time they connect Heisuke tries to pick out one new thing about Saitou.

Saitou’s arms carry more than the weight of his wooden blade, but he only uses that as a way to balance the force he uses. His eyes are actually several shades of blue. Heisuke thinks he can see some ribbon of joy there, among other nameless less-happy things. The way Saitou breathes isn’t as loud as most guys he’s fought. Sure he starts inhaling deeper, but he can still barely be heard over wood crashing into wood.

The vibrations that shoot up his arms after each parry rattle something in Saitou’s bones against his. It’s rhythmic and almost sad, if sadness had a fear of being forgotten. Trying to keep up with Saitou’s footwork feels like more like dancing. This is fun, and Heisuke has never been one to turn down a good time.

So he pushes forward, and forward, leaving answers about himself all over each motion he makes. Saitou isn’t big on long conversations, and Heisuke isn’t unfamiliar with talking this way. There have been times he’s tried words and it comes out in a scuffle instead. Or when someone asks himself about himself, and the only way he can answer is with something that makes use of strength and callouses he gained with each turn he has taken. Shinpachi had asked him a lot of questions this way.

Saitou does too.

But Saitou’s voice is calm even in the strength of his swordsmanship. There is a definite point of view that Heisuke can feel out, but Saitou doesn’t raise his voice even in this. He’s steady. Each attack drops a few words against Heisuke’s skin. Nothing knocks the wind out of him, not yet anyway. With Saitou it’s more like standing outside in the elements. The taste in the air, and the shapes in the clouds whisper what’s coming next. The scent after rain says what has been, while it also washes away evidence of yesterday. It makes Saitou harder to piece together, but Heisuke doesn’t mind.

It’s peaceful and exhilarating, so he’ll keep fighting until one of them can’t.

Heisuke’s pretty quick himself, and while Saitou is able to avoid or block his strikes there are few close calls. It’s reassuring, that even against an opponent on the level Saitou’s at, his ability doesn’t just crumble. It’s made of sturdier stuff than he sometimes gives himself credit for. Some of his blocks aren’t nearly as clean as he’d like, Saitou comes in from the wrong side and it’s really difficult to compensate, but they hold all the same. That’s something.

They go and go and go until his body starts to go become a tad numb. Stamina is clearly something Saitou possesses in bounds. While his match against Souji had been explosive from the beginning, with Heisuke it’s more of a waiting game, slowly burning through each of their reserves. Saitou is banking on speed and variation paired with patience. It’s really clever.

There’s an instant where he thinks he sees an opening. Over eagerness might be to blame, or maybe it’s just Saitou’s skill at work. Either way he ends up with a bokken to his ribs before he can reach Saitou. It smarts like a son of a bitch, and he didn’t see it coming until it was too late to do anything to stop it. While staggering sideways he massages at the sore spot. Prodding at himself aggravates the pain. Still, the bone doesn’t feel bruised, just the muscle.

For as hard as Saitou hit, he could have hit harder. Again, the amount of control he has over his strikes impresses Heisuke. He did enough to win, but not so much as to do serious damage. It’s practical and kind all at the same time. Heisuke can definitely smile about someone being so talented as to bundle the two together, maybe without even realizing it.

“Ouch, you’re really good. Just like I thought.” Laughing jostles his sore side, but it’s worth it. It’s one of those losses that doesn’t cost him anything. The opposite really. Like when he first fought Shinpachi and remembered how to let himself be Heisuke. There’s shades of that feeling all over him now. A few new gradients as well. Ones he thinks are probably reflections of what he can see on Saitou.

Saitou’s smile is gentle. Barely there before it’s gone, “Are you hurt?”

He watches Saitou glance from his side back to his eyes. No wound would be visible through his clothes anyway. There’s no blood or anything to stain that bruise into plain sight. It’s the sentiment that counts though.

“Ah, I’m fine!” It’s nothing ice and a few drinks won’t help. It feels good really actually. It’s like how when he’s got a lot on his mind he purposely instigates something with Souji because the feeling after an intense match leaves his mind clear and his lungs grateful for everything they get.

He hopes he gave Saitou something in return. There are things to learn from all sorts of people. Heisuke figured that out pretty young. He also learned that some gifts are toxic and should be left at the giver’s feet, while others are so generous you’ll have them your whole life. Exchange involves risk and reward in equal parts, but he’s always liked to focus on what he can give. It makes what he can lose seem so much smaller in comparison.

“You did well also.” A compliment from Saitou feels valuable. Both to Heisuke’s skill, and to something much more important than that. He knows he’s pretty formidable. Certain nights, and longer days proved that. But hearing it from Saitou is really nice.

“Thanks!” He’s grateful he got Souji to back off long enough to give him a shot at sparring with Saitou. Swapping the bokken out for his real blade brings some comfort. Watching Saitou do the same is fascinating. The respect with which he handles his sword is above and beyond most samurai Heisuke knows.

He flops down to sit on the grass under the tree. The shade and the fresh air is too good to pass up, and the breeze helps to cool him down a bit. Watching the sky and napping outside are two things he tries to sneak in when he’s not out with the guys, and Hijikata-san isn’t breathing down his neck about something he probably didn’t do. Chores or otherwise.

Saitou kneels down beside him, barely making a sound as he settles into a comfortable position. Assumptions are usually incorrect when they’re his, so it’s only natural that Saitou stays when Heisuke had expected he would probably go for a match with Souji or tea with Hijikata-san. He doesn’t think his company is bad, but there are others who are just as capable of holding Saitou’s attention. Still, he’ll offer the warmest welcome he can give each and every time Saitou stops by.

Out of the guys, he was the most recent arrival until Saitou.

How long has been at Shieikan now?

It’s difficult for him to remember because the days here and the days not here don’t feel like they can possibly be the same length. Twenty-four hours is twenty-four hours, except when it’s not. Some things sort of linger, webbing themselves around Heisuke’s lungs or sitting on his spine when he lets his thoughts drift. It’s rare, but they’re still there. One of those things is the surprise he breathes in when someone chooses to be near him. There are all sorts of stupid sore words he got called back in his old domain. Harmless sounds, but the sentiments of you don’t belong have been a hell of a lot more difficult to shake.

His friends here wash it off of him each time it appears, always the right mix of firm and gentle... But sometimes it’s like a ghost in his skin.

Gone, but he can feel it anyway.

Beside him, Saitou is stillness and an usually pointed type of serenity. Even the way the sun slides over him seems more fluid than it has any business being. Amazing people are appreciated from all angles, and Heisuke definitely agrees with that assessment of Saitou. New is new, but Saitou is familiar in all the ways that matter to Heisuke. That doesn’t mean that they aren’t still learning things about each other though. That’s one of Heisuke’s favorite parts about making friends with someone. Getting the chance to keep a collection of everything the two of you know and share.

Sharing is important to him as an expression of closeness and kindness. When you know what it feels like to be unwelcome in the place that once tried to call itself home, you want better for the people you care for. Or at least Heisuke does. He has met some bitter people who share their resentment rather than their strength. He avoids that. Whatever he has to give, he wants it to be something pleasant. Something to be enjoyed. Smiling is easy for him, being smiled back at is even more rewarding.

Giving can be a bit frightening though. Especially when fingers start to reach toward places that are not quite a secret, or maybe they are? It’s difficult. Hiding feels like the wrong word, but some explanations still get all tangled up. It’s more that he doesn’t know how to transpose those stories others told about him himself back then and shape them into his own words, into his own experience. He’s a bit clumsy when it comes to this kind of thing. Sometimes amusingly so, sometimes frustratingly so.

Saitou’s eyes on Heisuke’s swords swing him between excited and uneasy. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask. Not right away anyway. Heisuke watches the way he seems to observe every discernable detail about his weapon with a care that brings Heisuke back to that first moment when he realized how Saitou views swords as something much more than steel and edges. A warm feeling pats down some of the anxious knots in his gut, and he has to turn his head quick to hide his grin when he catches Saitou’s fingers tensing like he’d very much like to get a closer look at Heisuke’s sword.

It’s a bit difficult to convince his hand to do what he’s asking. He’s hesitant, but it has nothing to do with Saitou leaning in the smallest bit. Saitou doesn’t intimidate him, but showing this does. He’ll do it though. Because that’s how you make friends. Trust. The same trust he extended to the other guys, he’ll give to Saitou too. And if anyone will be able to read gesture that in a sword, it would be Saitou.

Heisuke carefully tugs his sword out of his obi, and holds it out to Saitou, “You can take a look at it, if you want.”

“Thank you.” Saitou’s voice is steady and soothing despite the hint of surprise Heisuke catches on his breath. It doesn’t prick, instead the thanks confirms for him that he chose right. That this is ok. Even if Saitou writes in a script he’s still learning to read, he knows that Saitou can feel the weight of his sword and understands certain things because of that.

Letting his hand slip off the scabbard is his way of giving permission.

The silence doesn’t bother him much, not when he’d been expecting this kind of focus from Saitou. His fingers tighten around handfuls of grass when Saitou begins to draw the sword to reveal a few centimeters of steel. There are things about his weapon that unique to his origins. That blade has scratched some of the only recognition he’d ever received into the stone wall between him and what should have been his family. Hard to call it family as it was though. And he’s not bitter, honestly. But in weaker moments there are questions he can’t get answers to because the lack of someone to ask is the problem itself.

Where others weren’t, Saitou’s gentle with him. Or with his sword. Funny the way his thoughts cross the two over and over. He’s never been the kind to get as attached to his weapon as others, but he has been asked to speak about himself with his sword before and so there must be something to that. The same kind of thing that Saitou is looking for when he tests the grip on the hilt, and runs his fingers down the slide of the blade. He traces lines and shadows, edges and curves. It’s ticklish. The longer Saitou observes the more he finds it difficult to sit still.

“This is extremely well made.” Heisuke startles a bit at Saitou’s voice, but the instant Saitou looks up he remembers to breathe. If Saitou noticed him watching, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he focuses on his respect for the swordsmith, and that’s fine with Heisuke. “You are fortunate to have a sword by Kaneshiga. I’m sure it has served you well.”

“I uh- It was a gift.” That’s not untrue. Just not as specific as he could be. Still, it’s something more than he gives most people. Saitou is one of the few he’ll tell this to, “From back home, but I don’t really talk to anyone from there anymore. I wasn’t exactly supposed to happen so-.”

Not that he’d ever shared words with the man- his dad- who sent him the sword to begin with. Mistakes don’t get voices. They get told who, what, they are.

“I understand.” Saitou doesn’t pry like many would, and have before. He traces his thumb over the guard of the sword, and his expression softens just a bit. He doesn’t try to trap Heisuke against uncomfortable memories. That freedom is almost dizzying in the relief it provides. “You fought well today. Whoever taught you was a worthy instructor.”

The change in topic leads him back to the present, and puts control in his hands. He can do whatever he chooses with that compliment. Saitou is being kinder than most whether he does it intentionally or not. Maybe it’s just the way he is, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. Part of him wants to point it out, to tell Saitou he sees the brightness behind those quiet gestures and is thankful for them… But that would probably embarrass Saitou. And he definitely doesn’t want that. Saitou’s probably the type who would clam up on him rather than chew him out if that were to happen. He’s different from Sano or Shinpachi in that regard.

He makes no motion to take his sword back from Saitou. Instead, Heisuke shifts his weight back against the tree and rests his hands on his lap. Saitou doesn’t move much either, outside of the smallest movement of his fingers tracing designs on the scabbard of Heisuke’s sword. It doesn’t seem like he even realizes he’s doing it, and that image is so much different than the one of precise control Saitou maintains in so many of his words and actions.

“Thanks!” It makes Heisuke smile, gives him the push he needs to keep sharing rather than just talking around sore spots, “I practiced at a dojo back in Tsu until I got certified. I only stuck around a little longer after that, and then I left. I kept practicing on my own on the road, but I didn’t have any more regular training until I got here.”

It dawns on him that he never told Saitou which domain he’s from until he let it just slide now. That’s ok. He doesn’t mind if Saitou knows something more about his origins. The guys know where he’s from too. This is giving. This is extending some of that same thread they all share to Saitou, of course passing along the attached needle will sting a bit. But he’s glad to do it for Saitou.

“You must have been young when received your certification.” Saitou sounds like memories, and Heisuke wonders if he’s thinking back to where he must have been when Heisuke was finishing his mastery of the Hokushin Itto-ryu style.

They both learned swordsmanship young.

They probably learned a bunch of other things young too.

“Yeah, I was. It was something I was proud of, but-” He inhales more sharply than he would have liked to, “but it was also the problem. Or part of the problem.”

Shutting his mouth might be a good idea. People don’t like listening to sad stories, or heavy problems. Carrying the weight of one’s own difficulties is hard enough, and Heisuke tries to avoid burdening people. Positivity lifts people, this… Well not so much. But Saitou is so easy to talk to, and he can’t quite stop himself, “I thought I’d made friends, but it was fragile. And when I forgot that, I said some stupid shit that bit me in the ass. I didn’t- I couldn’t stay.”

He shrugs.

The decision to go hadn’t been made in one instant, and where it got him has told him again and again that he was right. But sometimes when he’s been awake too long, he asks-

“I have not known you long.” It’s a statement with very little inflection, but something new builds after a pause. Saitou leans a tad closer to him and his hand tightens on the hilt of Heisuke’s sword, “But I enjoy your company, and your convictions are admirable from what I’ve seen.”

Coming from Saitou, that seems to be so much more than the words themselves. Saitou doesn’t shower people with things he doesn’t mean to try to win favor or lower defenses. He’s straightforward and honest, Heisuke’s been able to tell that much. And if that’s Saitou’s assessment of him then the warmth starting in his stomach and spreading down his arms is deserved. Standing by his own beliefs is something Heisuke has worked hard at. It’s those convictions that got him this far, that got him to this wonderful place. He did it for himself, but it’s always nice to hear someone else take notice. The opinions of his friends are something he definitely values and considers carefully.

Not that he makes a big deal of telling them that. They know.

“I really appreciate that.” No matter how many times he adds those words together, they still don’t equal what he’s trying to tell Saitou but they’re as close as he can get. “I glad we met, and not just because you’re strong.”

Saitou hands his sword back. Heisuke thinks Saitou wants to smile, but his lips don’t really move until he starts speaking. “I was also born into a samurai family. I started practicing young, but finding any one teacher or dojo proved difficult.”

“But you managed really well despite that.” Heisuke can’t say he understands everything Saitou has behind those words. It’s like when ink bleeds through one page onto the next from two much pressure, only in this there’s no guarantee that the imprints left behind match what’s on top. Most people would have just forced themselves to learn right-handed techniques. They would have bent themselves around what’s normal until other things became compromised in the process.

Saitou didn’t.

That only makes him even more special in Heisuke’s opinion. That choice had to cause him so much grief and aggravation, but the scars from it don’t appear nearly as grotesque as they might on someone else. His face isn’t lined with permanent bitterness, his arms aren’t made up of shreds of resentment bound into muscle. He’s just Saitou. He owns any of his hardships, and so he can conceal them, or he can share them. They’re in his control.

“I filled in gaps in my training on my own.” His voice is always so evenly paced, but it slows down here. Heisuke can count each second of contemplation on Saitou’s lips. He doesn’t want to watch too closely, or to put pressure on Saitou.

It’s easy to see that Saitou is out of words, or at least out of voice to speak them with. Heisuke watches him fold his hands, fingers digging into the backs of his hands just a bit too harshly. It doesn’t read like a blatant lack of trust, or any sort of disdain. Saitou’s straightforward, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it when he pricks himself on old thoughts and memories. Those things can be sharp, and Heisuke would hate to watch Saitou bleed himself out for his sake. Talking, sharing, it should come naturally. Nobody needs to use force in this the way they do in battle. He told Saitou things, but Saitou doesn’t owe him anything in return.

Of course he wants to know Saitou, but this teaches him something about him too.

Heisuke came to Shieikan after having longed for a place to make into his home. He had always wanted friends and warmth and smiles. Once he found them, he tucked each precious slice of that happiness inside himself for safekeeping. Saitou doesn’t seem to want to allow himself that. The desire might be there, but he’s hesitant every time they invite him in closer. Heisuke wants to hug him, but that’s too quick, too forward. So he pats his shoulder instead, and Saitou doesn’t shake him off. Doesn’t even move really.

“I think you have a lot to be proud of.” He gives Saitou’s shoulder a small squeeze, and Saitou tips his head just barely to one side. Heisuke doesn’t mind being considered this way. Let Saitou think about what he said. Maybe he can start using that to build himself a home, or least an umbrella.

Even if Saitou doesn’t think he needs those things, Heisuke believes he deserves them.

~~~

This time of year is usually quite damp, and after a string of sunny days this should have been expected. Had they been paying closer attention to the sky they might have noticed the clouds starting to twist from white to darker and darker shades of gray. The weather never came to mind. Storms are not something that generally concern him. The rain is needed, and it provides an array of soothing scents and sounds. But today it is a bit of an obstacle, mainly because his new companions refuse to let him travel in this weather. He had stayed longer than he intended after a shared meal and the weather caught up to his footsteps.

No matter how many times he had repeated that the getting wet or listening to thunder on his way out would not be a problem, Hijikata-san had just become increasingly exasperated. Instead of pulling the others back, he had agreed with their consensus that Saitou needs to stay the night.

That is how he ended up here. Waiting with his back to the window while a futon is set out for him. The walls rumble with the thunder, and the vibrations help shake some of the restlessness out of his bones. Allowing the others to look after him is difficult. They ask so little of him that he can feel himself calling up everything he has to see if there is enough in him to repay them. Their concern for him as simply another person whose company they enjoy tangles up in his fingers while he works to bind it around the hilt of his sword.

Souji lent him a yukata to sleep in. It is a little too large. Even having adjusted it, it still drags along the ground. Souji had just laughed. Saitou doesn’t mind that. Souji’s humor runs all sorts of places he is still learning to follow. He has an interesting mind that Saitou can see into from the rare instances where his eyes are glass instead of merry daggers. Shinpachi and Harada had offered their ability to restrain Saitou to Hijikata-san should he insist on leaving. All the while Heisuke had listed all the reasons traveling in poor weather should be avoided. His story about the dangers of muddy hillsides had sounded a little bit too personal to be a general warning.

It is sort of amusing. In certain ways. They are all samurai. A life which offers up risks every day. Potentially fatal risks. They are all willing to take those chances, but the much gentler danger he would risk from leaving in bad weather is enough to trouble them all. It is difficult to accept that kind of worry. That insistence towards putting his safety so high on whatever lists they each hold in their minds and in their hands is flattering, and a heavy responsibility.

But maybe not as heavy as he thought. There is a lightness to friendship.

Especially to the way Heisuke does friendship.

He had leapt at the chance to welcome Saitou for the night, and to help get him settled in.

In those moments of falling Heisuke back to the room he would be staying it, it had been easy. Easy let himself memorize the paths and doors they passed. Easy to forget about the lists he keeps written on his arms of all the reasons he has to be careful of feelings of home. Home is not inherently dangerous. He would not mind assigning that name to this place… But he hesitates.

It is not something that is easily reassigned. Once he hangs his name over a door he cannot walk back out without tearing the whole building out of his body. Ribs crack quicker than beams, and skin tears as easily as rice paper. Faithfulness to both people and cause are not something that he takes lightly. There is too much at stake to be unprepared, so he bases his gambles on static things, and lets the variables fall where they will.

Tracing those results into himself gives him a sharp exterior. People struggle to hold onto him without cutting their palms open. Saitou has seen many different shades of blood, and the instinct to avoid something capable of causing such pain is strong in most. Unconsciously or consciously matters little. He has seen a few children back behind their mothers as he passes even though he means them no harm. These men are like him though. They understand where to place their hands to shape something cutting into something precious.

It is a relief, and Heisuke seems to be especially natural at molding the elements of the world around him into something inherently amiable. Whether it's a conscious effort, or simply a side effect of his presence is unknown to Saitou. Something inherently good in him reaches out to things and people. Saitou has seen enough to know Heisuke is strong. And yet when he is not trying to show that side of himself, he is welcoming where many others like them can never quite get their hands clean enough to reach out without sparking fear.

The rain is tumbling off the eaves outside, each droplet doing its part to extinguish some of the day’s heat.

Heisuke grabs chilly raindrops and changes them into the warmth and glow of flames on candles. That kind of ability requires a sturdy foundation. Saitou tries to count all the materials Heisuke has used to build a frame that carries the weight of others so well. He loses count every time. Each layer he scratches back gives way to another. It’s endless. Or at least seemingly so. Everyone has a dead end. A place where their self cannot continue any further. But for as far as Saitou can see he cannot find that end for Heisuke.

Things unseen can be deceptive. In this case, however, it could not be more honest.

Heisuke smooths out the last of the bedding. Each blanket is creased with a care and precision Saitou nearly laughs at. For as much as Heisuke refuses to do chores, his experience with how to look after himself and others shines through, “This should be enough. The rain is chilly, but the nights are still pretty warm.”

“It is plenty.” It would be difficult to feel cold in a room shared with a personality like Heisuke.

Even now Heisuke is smiling, and yet he does not even appear to realize it. The muscles in his cheeks must be immune to the strain by now.

Saitou considers that for several seconds. He examines it in time to the rumbling thunder outside, but comes up empty handed. Although it is not a bad type of empty. Maybe too full would be a better way to put it. There is something there, but not something small enough to hold in his hands. It is not an absence, but rather a completeness of presence. Every way the light shines on Heisuke, either from lightning or lamp, it creates a new glow. There are colors Saitou can’t remember ever seeing, and if he were more artistic he would like to record them in some sort of painting. Humans are far from perfect, but he appreciates spirit and steel.

Both of which he sees in front of him.

Tested metal and courageous pigments.

Finally kneeling down on the pile of blankets is soft on knees and kind to his back. Travel is taxing, and perhaps this rest will be more rewarding than the nights he spends in an inn or otherwise on his own. He is not sentimental, but being surrounded by the breath and heartbeats belonging to men ( friends) he is fond of is relaxing. It is satisfying albeit more responsibility to watch someone else’s back rather your own.

“I’ll be right back,” Heisuke scrambles to his feet, his shadow climbing the wall as he passes by the lamp. “If you need any more bedding there’s some over there.”

Saitou nods, whether Heisuke sees it or not is debatable.

He takes the quiet moment to run his hand over the fabric of the blankets Heisuke brought him. They’re well worn. Patterns are faded into backgrounds, and threads are starting to fray at the edges. It is difficult to tell whether the diamond shapes are supposed to be red or orange. How much is dye and how much is candlelight is lost to the years. Still, they feel warm and soft. What this dojo lacks in funding it makes up for in shared stories. These blankets were probably brought by one of the guys. Maybe they’ve been here as long as Kondo-san, or they could be more recent additions brought along by Harada or Shinpachi.

The door slides open. Heisuke balances a tray against his hip while he shuts it behind him. From what Saitou can make out there are two cups, two plates of simple sweets, and a small stack of books.

“I got us some snacks.” Heisuke places the tray down beside Saitou. The cups are filled with tea rather than sake. It surprises him, but maybe it shouldn’t. “The rain always makes me a bit sleepy.”

He stretches as he sits down beside Saitou, suppressing a yawn. Saitou reaches for the tea. The cup helps to warm his hands up, although he is slightly cautious. He had drank some of Hijikata-san’s tea a few days back. Bitter, burnt, and generally unpleasant. Of course he drank it all. The offer said much more than the flavor. Souji’s tea had been a bit better. Still questionable, but palatable.

Those prior experiences might have lowered his expectations, but Heisuke sips on his own tea with no grimace or hesitation. That is a good sign.

Heisuke might have read something in his face from the way he smiles, “My tea isn’t bad, I promise. It beats Hijikata-san and Shinpachi’s for sure.”

His cup catches most of his quiet laughter. The scattering of steam is the only proof he made a sound at all. Heisuke is correct, though. His tea is not bad. It has a pleasant flavor and a lightness to it that makes it fitting for the occasion. “You’re right. It is good.”

“I used make it for myself all the time.” Heisuke pops one of the snacks in his mouth, and watches rain on the window for three seconds before turning his attention back to Saitou. “Even if it tastes like crap, it’s still nice when one of the guys tries to make it for us all.”

“Of course.” There is nothing inherently painful about Heisuke’s chosen string of words. They give off the rhythm of humor, but Saitou can see the wisps of gratitude that cling around whatever Heisuke had once lacked. The bitterness of Hijikata-san and Souji’s tea had been easy to swallow because it was a gift. What Heisuke says is an instinct Saitou shares. Kindness comes in all forms and flavors. Refusing it when you never know when it will run out is a mistake.

“I grabbed these.” Leaning through the edge of one candle’s sphere into another, Heisuke holds up the books he brought. “I saw you reading some of Hijikata-san’s books the other day, so…”

The books’ covers catch Saitou’s attention, but not before he notices Heisuke turn his head so that the candlelight helps paint over a bit of pink on his cheeks. Whether he is embarrassed of admitting he had been watching Saitou read, or is just struggling to navigate how much is too forward doesn’t matter to Saitou. Neither gesture is something he finds offensive or concerning. Two of the three books cover military history, and the list of swordsmithing techniques is especially promising. The other is a collection of poetry.

Heisuke laughs, tapping that book on the cover. “I wasn’t sure if you’re interested in this kind of thing. Hijikata-san is.”

“Everything you brought is fine.” Saitou flips open the first book. The illustrations of various weapons and strategies outline Heisuke’s careful attention as much as the actual material. His selections were thoughtful. Saitou’s fingers run over one image that depicts a spear like Harada’s. “I enjoy some poetry, but I do not write any.”

“Hijikata-san does. But he doesn’t let us read it.” Vaguely, he remembers Souji teasing Hijikata-san about secret love poems. Heisuke’s grin implies his thoughts probably align with Souji’s on the matter. While Shinpachi, Harada, and Heisuke are a handful, Saitou images that Souji and Heisuke must be a potent team when it comes to getting under Hijikata-san’s skin. Souji more intentionally than Heisuke.

“Sometimes these things are not for sharing.” The defense is weak given what little he knows about what Hijikata-san does or does not write. He would be interested in reading it. Literature is not something he has ever devoted a great deal of time to, but he appreciates the craftsmanship that goes into to putting experience and humanity to page.

Heisuke shrugs, taking another sip of tea, “He has a lot on his mind. Maybe it helps him out. Expressing himself and all that.”

“Do you enjoy reading?” Of all the questions he could have asked, it’s not an important one. But the way Heisuke sits with his knees drawn up and his fingers toying with the blanket makes Saitou curious.

“Oh, um. Yeah, I guess.” Heisuke bobbles on the first words. His smile never falters though, and it assists him in shaping each word after. “I sometimes get Shinpachi to read until I fall asleep. He complains that I’m not paying attention, but he never wakes me up.”

The sentence mashes past and present together even though Heisuke never uses a single indicator of time other than sometimes. It is Heisuke the warrior and Heisuke the former child, and they are the same person. The desire for closeness and the interest in others is a possession shared between then and now.

“Are you making a request?” He places his empty cup down, sliding it off to the side.

Heisuke’s reactions start in his eyes and quickly move to his mouth. Then to his shoulders, down his arms. His fingers jump from the blankets to his knees. Saitou catches him off-guard with directness, but in all his scrambling Heisuke never moves to conceal himself.

“I- no! I was just rambling.” When Heisuke speaks quickly, his voice becomes even more dynamic. Saitou admires the near musical quality of his nervous laughter. Heisuke lies down on his stomach, tracing the edges of the pages on the second book. “I talk too much sometimes.”

“It is not a problem, and I am in interested in what you have to say.” Listening is fine, and Saitou has learned many things from allowing others to speak freely. He lies down beside Heisuke, and pulls the first book towards them. “Here.”

He opens it to the index, and Heisuke catches on to his intention quickly. They can share this and share thoughts. There are words that they allow to slide through their fingers, just skimming along the pages rather than reading too deeply on any one subject. Saitou watches Heisuke. The way his mouth quirks towards a smile when he recognizes something familiar, and how he slides his index finger down to the bottom of the page when he’s ready for Saitou to flip it. They let the rain and the paper do most of the talking, but they are not silent with each. Heisuke leans in a little closer, letting his shoulder rest against Saitou’s.

He’s close.

Saitou does not mind it.

Heisuke’s muscles relax when he rests some of his weight on Saitou. The relaxation is mutual, and Saitou lets Heisuke support him too. Being in the vicinity of others gives certain access. Their emotions become clearer on their face and in their body when you are close enough to rinse off any covers they have tried to apply. In other cases, somethings are simply too blurry to make out at a distance. Such observations can reveal threats. Saitou has seen many people who are neutral at a distance, but an enemy up close. Heisuke is not one of those people. Heisuke thrives off of the happiness of those around him, and the peace that brings Saitou is gratifying. He is proof that the balance between self and others can be maintained without losing parts of either.

“You practice Hokushin Itto-Ryu.” The page he flips to outlines the basic structures of the school of fighting.

Saitou is familiar enough with it due to its popularity. The emphasis on quick and simple motions that waste nothing is fitting of Heisuke. This book reminds him of the intense dueling process used to decide masters of the technique. Heisuke’s feat had not been a small one.

“Yeah!” He smiles at Saitou, tugging the book a bit closer to them so that he can point to various diagrams and illustrations. “So does Sannan-san, but we didn’t practice at the same dojo.”

“It is a good school. Many capable swordsmen have come out of it.” Saitou has fought a handful. Another interesting facet of this place is that there is no one right style. Heisuke and Sannan do not use the same techniques as Shinpachi. Kondo-san and Souji’s Tennen Rishin-ryu is different still.

“Your style looks like Mugai-ryu.” Heisuke pauses, fingerings curling on the page while he thinks. “But also a bit like Tsuda Ichi-den-ru and Sekiguchi-ryu. It’s a mix isn’t it?”

Saitou nods with a small smile. While Heisuke may not be able to tell exactly where he learned swordsmanship, he can find the bases of the styles Saitou has learned. The observation is not an insignificant one. Eyes that appear so bright are also careful. There are reflections of optimism, but also careful considerations and decisions hard won. Of course he can see Saitou. “That’s correct. Mugai-ryu is my primary practice, but I have blended elements of each to fit my left-handedness.”

“You’re really impressive.” Heisuke toys with the end of his ponytail. Not quite a nervous gesture, more of a way to keep his fingers busy while he thinks. At least that is what Saitou has observed.

Meanwhile, the compliment is genuine, rib achingly so. It takes him a count of five to stop himself from pulling his scarf up to hide part of his face. “Some tried to teach me right-handed technique. I could not master it. My style emerged out of necessity.”

“Doesn’t matter, you still did it.” Heisuke bumps the back of Saitou’s hand with his fingers once. His words sum up the sentiments of the group here. That how they arrived matters less than that they have managed to get here.

“Here.” The last two pages of the book are a map. All the domains are drawn in the same shade of faded black ink. Saitou points out the spot he started his journey from, an inconspicuous spot in Edo. “This is where I’m from.”

“Ah, the same place as a lot of the guys. Or at least really close.” It’s all part of Edo. Heisuke traces his finger around the area before tapping the outline of the Tsu domain. “I mentioned I’m from here. But I left for Edo when I was pretty young.”

Saitou moves his thumb over Tsu when Heisuke draws away from it. “Did you stay anywhere else in Edo before here?”

“Just a few inns. This was the first dojo I visited. It felt so much different from the one I’d come from.” And that’s what I wanted. Heisuke’s hand brushes Saitou’s arm when he pulls his fingers away from the page. No ink goes with his fingertips, but Saitou can see the path he’d taken running up his wrists instead. “So what about you?
Heisuke poses the question as vaguely as possible, and Saitou is grateful of that. There are a hundred different ways to answer and not be concealing anything really. He follows the map a few times, reacquainting himself with the towns and roads. The rivers and bridges. The people and the empty places in between. The silence isn’t broken like he expected it might be. Heisuke’s weight remains on his shoulder, but he doesn’t press any further. He is gentle with Saitou even though there is no reason to be. It poses questions, but does not ask any of them.

Saitou chooses to give answers instead.

“As you know, I visited many dojos before here.” He can name most of them. Can match each name with the faces of those less than happy to see him. Unwilling to accept what he had to offer. In those eyes left meant without value. “They were far less accommodating than here.”

Beside him Heisuke makes a soft sound in his throat. It does not ring like pity. Perhaps a bit more understanding than Saitou would expect. There are memories there that Heisuke wears strung around his ribs and dug into the bottoms of his feet. Saitou has those places too.

“That doesn’t explain why I came.” Choosing words for this is not difficult. There are only so many ways to explain it, and he chooses the most direct route. Heisuke watches him, and at their proximity Saitou wonders if he can see what is coming before he speaks. What he is about to place in Heisuke’s hands an odd shape. Not all many have been able to grip it. “I began traveling after I killed someone.”

“Oh.” There is not as much surprise as a kind of dawning. Pieces Heisuke had had his fingers on sliding into place with the help of Saitou’s voice. The rain and lightning outside are not enough to swipe shades of blue over the images he is placing in Heisuke’s mind. Whether or not Heisuke has killed does not change that they are both familiar with the way blood runs. “I thought maybe something like that, but…”

I wanted to hear it from you. No assumptions.

“I was challenged to a duel. I killed my opponent.” Heisuke leans into him a little more firmly as he speaks. The pressure is what he needs. It keeps him pushing himself along. He has no fear of his past, but reactions are varied. Losing here before ever fully gaining it would be difficult. “I was accused of cheating. This sentiment spread among many. He was not the only one I killed either.”

“It’s ok.” Heisuke gives him a smile he has not seen. It is similar to his other ones, only even more personal. He holds the truth of his statement between his teeth, puts it on display for Saitou. “You aren’t a cheater. And you always have a place here, Hajime-kun.”

Hajime? It is his name, but he has not heard it said like that before. It is almost unrecognizable in the familiarity Heisuke punches into each syllable, but Saitou wants to know it better. Being caught by surprise is rare for him. This is a not a bad surprise. Still, he lowers his head slightly in some attempt at convincing gravity to help him sort his thoughts when the warmth in his chest causes them to run together.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Is Hajime-kun ok?” Heisuke mistakes his quiet consideration for offense. “I just figured- You’re a friend, and I wanted you to know that. But if you don’t-”

“Heisuke,” His voice is enough to cut off Heisuke’s snowballing apology. “It is fine. You are a friend.”

Saying it out loud is powerful. He has always granted action priority above words, but hearing this, saying this… He is five shades of thankful for the opportunity. Calling someone his friend is not something light, although it holds light in it. Bright places, steady places, quiet places, and honest ones too. All in another person. Shiekan promises him this. Heisuke offers him the first letters. The words on his skin that he can reread again and again. He has trust. He has companionship.

“Thank you, Hajime-kun.” The previous smile grows into a grin. It is so much like Heisuke.

They have not known each other that long when the scale is set against the entirety of their lives. but Heisuke has made himself easy to know. Two people can never hold every single second of each other. That is fine. Some moments are best saved for one. But he knows enough to feel confident in the placement of his trust.

“There isn’t anything to thank me for.” All he is allowing is what Heisuke deserves in return for the welcome he gives Saitou each and every day he comes to this dojo. The same welcome he promises to give each day in the future if the endlessness of his enthusiasm is anything to go on.

The storm outside has started to quiet, but Heisuke is still handing him more sounds.

“Sure there is.” He offers no elaboration, but Saitou chooses not to challenge it.

Everyone has different criteria for what warrants gratefulness. Heisuke’s body is mapped out by desires for sharing happiness, and also by a deep running forbearance. Maybe in the future Saitou will be granted the opportunity to follow more of those paths. To find the places Heisuke has been shaped by, and the ones he has done the shaping to.

He recalls words from tonight, and grabs the poetry book from the pile by the futon.

There are musical ways of reading that some excel at. Saitou is not one of those people. The words may lose some of their intricacy when tossed against the backs of his teeth. That isn’t something he can do much about, but he can read steadily. He can lend strength to harder words, and ease back on softer ones. He can find rhythms and rhymes. Each line grows on the next. One dropping onto the previous one until they begin to run.

“You listened.” Heisuke starts to sound drowsy. He’s heavier against Saitou’s side as his eyes slide shut.

This is what Saitou intended. To lend Heisuke the peace he had received from him. It is not the most extravagant gift, but Heisuke’s contentment reaches his ears quicker than the words on the page. He continues reading through what may be the beginnings of a small smile. It can’t be helped that Heisuke’s expression when he falls asleep is something endearing. Some people appear restless even in sleep. Heisuke lacks the dusty nets on his insides that tickle even in sleep. He is reminiscent of what the fresh morning after all this rain will be like, from the shades of blue-green above to the brightness in each breath of cleansed air.

A few more lines go by Saitou’s lips until Heisuke’s breath slows once more, marking a deeper sleep. It is then that Saitou slides the book aside and dims the lamp. The dark does little to inhibit him from finding exactly where Heisuke is positioned next to him. All the places their sides touch keep up conversations. Sleeping on his stomach is not Heisuke’s preferred position if Saitou remembers correctly from some of the mornings he arrived before breakfast call woke everyone up.

Carefully, he grabs on to Heisuke’s shoulder and hip to turn him onto his side, back leaning into Saitou’s chest. The smell of morning is still caught in Heisuke’s hair even though it has been hours since the sun was up. It makes it easy to let his eyes close and allow the rest of his senses to draw comfort from their closeness. He could fall asleep like this, but the morning would most likely leave Heisuke embarrassed. Extracting himself from behind Heisuke is not as difficult as he feared it might be. Between today’s training and the dreary weather, Heisuke isn’t going anywhere.

The second futon is not far away from the first. Saitou tugs it a little closer anyway. A small amount of self-indulgence that he will permit this once. Staying close enough to listen to Heisuke’s breathing is not too much of an imposition.

For all they have shared with each other today, Saitou will keep these last moments of consciousness especially close. There is trust and vulnerability in sleep that reflects all of the pieces of day that they placed into this moment.

Every turn they took handing each other a slice of their histories and a handful of the earth that came with them has amounted to this. It is a beginning built on so much time passed.

He has not yet chosen to stay permanently, but he is beginning to grow fonder of the idea when in every one of Heisuke’s exhales he can hear the heart of so many things worth keeping.