Chapter Text
September 1875
“Ah, Fujita Gorō!” A cheerful greeting called out as Saito, now using the alias Fujita Gorō to protect his true identity and family, entered a private room in an inn on the outskirts of Edo. The sun had only just begun to set as he sat seiza on the cushion beside the low table, opposite of the familiar face who grinned at him.
“Sugimura Yoshie,” Saito bowed formally, the name foreign in mouth.
The man across from him burst out laughing. “Ah-ha-ha, what is with the formality, Hajime-kun? This is the influence of being a family man, huh? How is Chizuru-chan?”
“Chizuru sends her regards,” Saito said, his lips lifting slightly. “She specifically said, ‘Tell Nagakura-san that he owes us a visit now that we’re all in Edo again,’ but she insists you have to provide your own sake.”
“Ah-ha-ha! Tell her I will do that and more,” Nagakura grinned broadly. “I will bring my wife and son to meet her and your little one.”
He had previously written to them during their exile in Tonami with the news that he had married a woman from Matsumae, Hokkaido, named Sugimura Kine in the spring of 1871. Hence, the change of his last name.
“A toast to our fallen comrades,” Nagakura said once the innkeeper brought small plates of food and sake. “To the Shinsengumi.”
They clinked their drinks and carefully sipped.
“And a toast to our wives, who have given us a reason to remember to live,” Saito added, a rare soft smile gracing his handsome face.
“I will toast to Kine and Yoshitarō any time,” Nagakura held up his sake cup once more. They drank again.
A few rounds of sake passed between them before Nagakura set aside his drink, an unusually serious expression shutting the grin that had been there down.
“I have an idea, Hajime, that I want to run by you. You know I am not one for grand gestures of bullshit,” Nagakura said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But my conviction is strong with this. But I can’t do it without your assistance.”
Saito waited patiently for him to continue.
“I want to fund a memorial in memory of Kondo-san, Hijikata-san, Sanosuke, and the rest of the fallen Shinsengumi.”
“That is certainly an idea,” Saito said, processing it. “A noble idea, indeed, to remember our friends. But I’m sure that it will be perceived as somewhat awkward by the current government.”
They had, after all, spent several years fighting against the very people who had assumed power as the current Meiji government. The Shinsengumi were a hazy memory for some, legends of a lost Samurai tradition. But others still regarded them with sharp tongues as a cautionary tale.
“I cannot let them fade into history as nameless ghosts, Hajime,” Nagakura sighed, draining his cup of sake. “Has not enough time passed to allow us to mourn them publicly?”
Saito tilted his head, considering it. “I suppose many Tokugawa loyalists have been allowed to move on with their lives. Some even have been allowed to serve as government officials…”
“They will ask you next, Saito,” Nagakura said, his voice booming confidently. “Or should I say they will ask Fujita Gorō?”
Saito scoffed. “Nonsense. What use will I be to them? A former warrior, who barely earned the right to be called a samurai?”
“More than you think, Hajime,” Nagakura said. “I think it is unfair to consider yourself in such a negative way. Kondo-san and Hijikata-san would certainly be angry if they were alive to hear you speak like that. I know Chizuru would certainly be offended.”
“Some habits are hard to break,” Saito said, shifting slightly to keep his feet from falling asleep. “I would prefer it if you did not tell my wife I expressed such sentiments. I would not live to see our daughter’s next birthday otherwise.”
Nagakura chuckled dryly. “I won’t tell her if you promise to help me with this memorial idea. Or at least help me convince our old allies to donate. I have spoken to Matsumoto Ryōjun, and he agreed to help.”
“Matsumoto Ryōjun?” The physician had kept in contact with Chizuru over the years since the end of the war.
“He has a lot of influence and connections,” Nagakura said, that confident smile back in place. “I think there will be little resistance against the idea of genuine remembrance for the Shinsengumi, especially as they fought honorably.”
“Where do you wish to erect the memorial?” Saito asked; he was not fully convinced that the idea would be received well by the government. That did not mean he was against it, though.
Nagakura smirked. “Itabashi.”
Saito nearly dropped his sake cup. ”Itabashi?”
The Itabashi execution grounds had ceased their function shortly after Kondo’s death there. Death penalties had been reformed and reduced under the current government. But still, it was rather brazen for Nagakura to suggest the location for a memorial.
“I think it is the most appropriate spot,” Nagakura said, certain. “Matsumoto thinks we will get a lot of support if it is there, too.”
Silence fell between the old comrades. Laughter from elsewhere in the inn spilled into the room through the paper sliding doors.
“I will support this endeavor,” Saito finally said, setting his empty cup with an air of finality. “I believe that the Shinsengumi should be remembered as more than a footnote in history, as you state. I know Chizuru will agree. However, I must request that any contribution of mine be done under my current name, Fujita Gorō.”
Nagakura nodded immediately.
“Yes, of course. It is enough to know that Saito Hajime,regardless of what he calls himself these days, supports remembering our friends. They will know that, I am sure of it, wherever they are drinking their sake nowadays. Though I doubt they are up in the sky playing hāpu like the Westerners believe.”
Saito laughed. “That’s too dignified for the likes of Soji and Sano.”
“Kondo-san would manage to get Soji to listen to it, at least if it’s played by a pretty geigi.”
“Not if Heisuke is too busy trying to flirt with her,” Nagakura roared with laughter, a full belly rumble that reminded Saito of their early days together. “Well, if she gave him the time of day. Hijikata-san always effortlessly got their attention, much to Heisuke’s chagrin.”
“Sanosuke would be doing that ridiculous party trick so as not to be outdone.”
“Ah-ha-ha, oh, he was pathetic!” Nagakura’s smile wavered. “I miss them.”
“I miss them too,” Saito said. A series of gongs rang out from a distance, signaling the late hour. Though the Meiji government had established the Western-style clock, the old ways of timekeeping were still observed in several areas of Edo; many had also not yet managed to switch to calling the new capital ‘Tokyo’ fluently. Saito could not help but refer to it by the former name in the company of such an old friend.
“I must get home soon to Chizuru,” Saito said. “Sakura has been struggling to sleep through the night lately.”
Nagakura made a face. “Wait until she turns two. You’ll miss when your only problem was Sakura not sleeping. Yoshi is a little terror in training.”
“No surprise there when his father is Nagakura Shinpachi,” Saito smiled, pulling out some money from inside his kimono and placing it on the table before standing. “My portion for tonight. Write to me soon so we can discuss the memorial idea more in detail.”
Nagakura nodded. “I look forward to it, Hajime.”
Saito took his leave.
The walk back to his home with Chizuru from the inn was straightforward. But Saito took the longer route, sticking to the shadows as he walked. He checked over his shoulder occasionally, pausing every so often to ensure no one followed. Only when he felt satisfied did he continue until he finally reached his street.
The Yukimura residence had been sold by Chizuru shortly after the events of summer 1869, with the help of Sen and Kimigiku. She had traveled alone to Edo to pack up the house and settle the sale before returning to Saito in Tonami.
The funds had covered their rent for a modest property while they were still in exile, and had helped purchase their current home in the new capital, Tokyo, after the pardons and clemency extended to Tokugawa loyalists allowed them to return.
It was more spacious than the house up north, but it was certainly smaller than the various headquarters they had grown accustomed to during their time with the Shinsengumi.
There was a small entrance area with stone flooring that could be accessed directly from the street. The slightly larger kitchen area had been built on the side of the house, which made it feel separate from the rest of the living quarters despite being attached to the view of the walled garden in the back.
The previous owners had built it as a later addition; they had been told when they purchased the house. The main living area could be separated into two rooms by sliding doors. There was one smaller room too, which Saito used as his study and Chizuru enjoyed as a tea room, as it overlooked the garden. All the rooms could see the garden, but they gravitated to the small room in the evenings when Sakura fell asleep on the futon.
It suited them, this home of theirs.
“I’m home,” Saito announced, mindful of the volume of his voice as he slipped off his outdoor coat and shoes. His shoulders relaxed as he stepped into the main area of their home. He found Chizuru humming softly beside Sakura, who for the moment peacefully slumbered.
“Ah, Hajime, welcome home,” she brightly said. Chizuru insisted that they should not limit the sounds of their home when Sakura slept, so that she could sleep through all noise eventually.
Sakura barely stirred as she stood, stretching. Her bun had loosened since Saito had last seen her in the early evening; her hair fell in waves past her shoulders and swept across the blue kimono she wore. Saito liked this particular kimono of hers; white cranes flew across her left side from her sleeves up to her shoulder, which complemented her.
Since the war ended, Saito had ensured that Chizuru had all that she could desire. For so long, she had been forced to hide her gender. He had seen the way she looked longingly at kimonos and combs for sale when they passed by shops when she joined him and his unit for rounds back in Kyoto.
He swore she would never wear that wistful expression again while in his presence.
“Hajime?” Chizuru was suddenly in front of him, tilting her head up to look at him. He pulled her into his arms, hugging her. “How was Nagakura-san?”
“He’s in good health,” Saito said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I passed on your message. I’m sure we will see him together soon, with his wife and son.”
“I’m glad,” Chizuru said, tightening her embrace. “Sakura was unhappy that you were missing. But I was able to distract her eventually by letting her run around after the cat that’s been haunting the garden lately.”
“I swear that is Soji’s doing from the afterlife,” Saito lightly grumbled. “He always attracted children and cats to the bases.”
Chizuru giggled, her breath tickling the base of his neck. “I think we have a cat now; Sakura named it.”
“Oh? What did she name it?”
“Dango,” Chizuru replied, pulling back slightly. “The only time she’s had that is when I met with Sen recently, and we had some. It must have left an impression on Sakura for her to remember it.”
Saito shook his head, laughing.
“Like mother, like daughter,” he said. “Are you willing to share a pot of tea with me? I will tell you about an idea Shinpachi shared with me.”
Chizuru nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek before heading to the kitchen to start boiling some water. Saito sat with Sakura, watching her sleep peacefully. He gently touched one of her cheeks, smiling as she grumbled a bit but did not wake.
These were the small moments that he cherished. The moments that he had not thought possible of ever experiencing when fighting with the Shinsengumi. Sometimes, he still doubted that he deserved it at all.
Once they settled on the veranda, a pot of freshly brewed green tea between them, Saito told her about his evening with Nakagura.
“A memorial for the Shinsengumi? In Itabashi?” Chizuru looked stunned. “I think the idea is wonderful of course! But in Itabashi? Will that be allowed?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Shinpachi is confident that it will face little resistance. He has the aid of Matsumoto Ryōjun.”
“Matsumoto-sensei!” Chizuru’s mouth dropped open. “He hasn’t mentioned this at all in any of his recent letters.”
“No, I imagine he wouldn’t until Shinpachi discussed the idea with me.” Saito stared out into the garden. The shadows of the flowers along the wall stood tall and proud. It was easy to imagine that they were the ghostly outlines of his fallen comrades, carefully watching them.
“You must have been so surprised, Hajime, when Nagakura brought it up.” Chizuru placed her hand on otp of his, where it was resting on the veranda.
“I fear I may have come across as opposed to the idea initially,” Saito said, sighing. “Shinpachi has less to lose compared to me. His wife’s family adopted him when they married, and he has their backing. All I have protecting us is my new name and reputation for cooperating with the victors.”
Chizuru understood where his fear came from. Saito feared that their carefully cultivated peace could shatter at the whims of the Meiji officials. With the passing of each year, it seemed more and more unlikely. But they both knew too well how quickly the winds of fortune could change.
She leaned into his side, content with their shared quiet moment as Saito momentarily became lost in his thoughts. She waited patiently for him to continue.
“I will always place you and Sakura-chan first. If you have any concerns about the potential fallout of endorsing the memorial, please tell me. A single objection will convince me to decline Shinpachi.”
Chizuru shook her head. “I have none, Hajime. I… I support the idea wholeheartedly.”
A scraggily orange and white cat appeared out of the shadows, interrupting their conversation, its amber eyes glowing in the dim light spilling from the house.
“Meow,” the cat walked towards them fearlessly. “Meow.”
“Shoo, cat,” Saito said as it leapt up onto the veranda beside Chizuru. Its tail swished back and forth in response.
“Meow,” it licked its paw before settling down and stretching out.
“Stubborn cat,” Saito grumbled as it purred in response to Chizuru’s rubbing between its ears.
“I think he’s sweet,” Chizuru said, giggling as it nuzzled into her hand.
“He’s probably flea-ridden,” Saito eyed it suspiciously. “We’ll need a comb to clean it before Sakura gets close to it.”
“I inspected him earlier, don’t worry. I didn’t see any jumping. But he is thin. I’ll get some appropriate food for him.”
The cat continued to purr, one eye opening to look at Saito. He could have sworn a familiar smirk flashed across the cat’s face before it settled again.
“I’m not convinced this isn’t entirely Soji’s doing from beyond the grave,” Saito said, refusing to pet the cat as Chizuru giggled again. Happiness looked natural on her, he thought. The cat could stay, he decided. But it could not come inside. No matter how much Sakura-chan widened her azure eyes and pouted. Nope. No. The darn cat would not be inside.
Somewhere, Soji laughed at his old friend.