Chapter Text
Every living thing must one day return to the earth. However, even if the head understands this, the heart often does not. As Hijikata looked over his shoulder at the horizon behind him, he could only seem to think about how many things he'd lost—things that could never be regained. He thought about Heisuke and Sannan returning to the earth; the thought brought Hijikata neither peace nor comfort, but he hoped that at least his two old friends might have both in death.
He'd always been able to count on Heisuke to brighten up the room. Sannan had been one of the Shinsengumi's most important members, practically part of the backbone. With the two of them gone and Saitou staying behind in Aizu, Hijikata had almost no strength to stand with.
He'd been pushing himself since then—no, since even before then—but events in Sendai brought things to a complete standstill. Caught between the senior retainers and Enomoto as they feuded over the next course of action, there was nothing to do but wait. Impatient as he was, Hijikata could do nothing to alleviate the current situation. He smiled and put on a bright face for Chizuru—or perhaps for himself. These days, he couldn't be sure. Still, they were a pair of worriers prone to running themselves ragged. It wasn't behavior unique to him. It honestly surprised Hijikata just how much Chizuru had kept up with him, but then he finally stopped to wonder...
Was she truly all right?
Things had been hard on her, as well. The business with her father was one thing, but Chizuru had lost friends and had her life uprooted just as much as Hijikata had. Yet when he looked at her face, there was her usual unclouded smile. He'd come to rely on it even more than he'd expected to in recent days, but now he was filled with a sense of foreboding. When was the last time she'd slept? Whom did Chizuru rely on when she felt trapped, powerless, and in pain?
As they made small talk, he started to question her on this very subject when Chizuru suddenly collapsed. In a panic, Hijikata carried her to the inn. After making sure that she was all right—just exhausted—he stared down at her while she slept. Fatigue had seeped into his very bones, but he just couldn't let her be. He felt restless and like all his grand posturing had been for nothing. Of course she'd lied to him and said she wasn't tired. Of course she'd pushed herself. Chizuru could be blamed for not speaking up, of course, but Hijikata felt a sort of self-hatred, as well. Why hadn't he noticed her condition sooner? Was the great Toshizo Hijikata so easily fooled by a young girl? Or was his desire for her to be happy and all right—his desire to ignore the truth plainly in front of him—the cause of this?
He had a suspicion that it was both. This only served to anger Hijikata further and he watched over Chizuru with a deeply furrowed brow.
When Chizuru finally awoke, he couldn't help getting on her case. "If you weren't feeling well, why didn't you tell me so from the beginning? Keeping quiet, continuing to push yourself, and then collapsing causes the most trouble! Don't decide to hold back all on your own like that!" He was angry. He was hurt. He was tired.
"I'm sorry..." Her voice was weak; whether it was from shame or from exhaustion, Hijikata couldn't be sure. He didn't want to think about it.
So instead, he sighed and stared down at the ground, unable to keep up his anger while looking at her weakened face. "You... Before I realized it, you'd just gotten better at lying to me." Hjikata hadn't wanted to complain like this, but he just couldn't stop himself. Something about being in her presence made him more likely to speak his mind, for better or for worse. He felt as if every weak part of himself was under her scrutiny. Hijikata hated this. He was just taking out his negative feelings on Chizuru by complaining; he knew that all too well. She had only done what she thought was best for everyone involved.
The truth was that the one he was most angry at...was himself. After reassuring Chizuru that everything would be fine and that she should rest, he watched over her while she slept once more. He'd said he would, after all. But guilt had burrowed its way into Hijikata's heart and he prepared himself to make a hard decision. How much longer could he watch Chizuru throw her life away for the Shinsengumi's sake—for his sake? How many more times would she have to collapse and work herself into the ground before he'd be able to accept that this lifestyle wasn't good for her? He was sure she'd offer up resistance, but he couldn't afford to be weak against her pleas anymore. Hijikata himself had little hope that the path he was currently on would lead to anything other than death. At the very least, he wanted to spare Chizuru from that. If she could do what she thought was best for him, all he could do in return was do what he thought was best for her. To protect her, if nothing else.
"At least while she's sleeping, let her have good dreams..." Hijikata murmured over Chizuru as she slept, feeling stricken as he watched her peaceful face. He then rose and left the room, leaving only his heart behind.