Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Are you burning me to death, or drowning me?”

Horikawa closes his eyes. “Neither,” he reassures, even if he knows Kashuu will not really listen. But it’s fine. Once all of this is over and Kashuu overcomes his memories, it will be a new beginning. The shedding of the past that chains the both of them down. They will start, now.

However, Horikawa doesn’t realize that he might be wrong. He is not as divine as the sun, or as mighty as the sea. Instead, he is just as mortal as his masters, and Horikawa doesn’t know that they have both started at the end.

(Speaking of the end, this is not how the story starts.)

---

The streets are full of people.

Horikawa walks into the dojo of Kondou Shusuke without having much to say. Everything had happened so quickly, and Hijikata Toshizou is a farmer, not a samurai. Perhaps in the centuries past, someone with the blood of a swordsman married into his family, settled down, turned away from the bloody battlefields that bloomed with oats which fed off the bones of those left behind--

Perhaps Hijikata has the blood of a samurai somewhere in him. Because when Kondou Isami speaks to him, it doesn’t take much to convince Hijikata. He is here, now, to learn Tennen Rishin-ryu from Kondou Isami’s father, and who could ever guess what that would grow into.

For now, Horikawa simply stands quietly. There is no reason for him to speak. He is a wakizashi made by a swordsmith of the same name (or is he?), a shortsword which samurais of centuries past would laugh at. A wakizashi is not a main sword. It should be the spare, the one you use in the most dire of cases. They are decorations, not weapons. They are signs of wealth, of status. They are indoor swords.

In the end, though, Hijikata only has Horikawa. It makes sense. After all, he’s just a farmer.

Horikawa’s eyes flit across the room, staring at the new faces. He memorizes the faces of the other students wandering around the hall. After all, they can’t see him staring, so he can stare all he wants. This is a place away from the countryside, in the middle of the bustling city Edo, and yet there are many farmers here. The masters of the Tennen Rishin-ryu were always looking to spread this art across the peaceful peasants, the people who were most likely to need it. After all, when famine or poverty becomes a problem, the first people to steal from are those making the food, yes--?

Hijikata has always known that, and practiced swordsmanship alone. He practiced until Kondou laid eyes on him. And now, there are too many people for Horikawa to register at once. His master is greeting a million people a minute. People pass by and glance at them-- no, only at Hijikata, not Horikawa. Horikawa merely tags along, taking mental tabs and seeing if anyone might try to pick a fight. Hopefully not. A man waves at Hijikata, and he-- is he a boy? He barely looks older than twenty. Probably not even that. And the one sitting next to him, who is wearing a red scarf, looks even younger.

The boy wearing the red scarf stands up, and Horikawa looks at him curiously. It takes a while to realize he has striking red eyes as well. After that, it takes even longer for Horikawa to note that this boy is looking at him. Not Hijikata.

He’s only ever trained with Hijikata. He hasn’t even spoken to the other Kunihiro swords before. (Because he isn’t one, not really--) It’s a completely unfamiliar feeling, to have his hand grabbed and shaken, by a hand that is certainly a sword arm with how strong its grip is.

“I’m Kashuu Kiyomitsu,” he says, and then his smile slips off for a moment. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Horikawa snaps out of whatever stupor this sudden turn of events put him into. “Me? --I’m Horikawa Kunihiro. I serve Hijikata Toshizou! You’re a… tsukumogami, too?”

“Riiight, right on the money,” Kashuu drawls while bowing almost comically. Maybe he’s trying to make Horikawa feel more casual, but instead, he comes off as a little too much to handle at the moment. “I serve Okita Souji. You know, the guy you were staring at just now. Some say I’m difficult to handle, but under him, my performance is excellent! So don’t look down on me, ‘kay?”

On another day, Horikawa will learn about why Kashuu chooses those words. Why would I look down on you? --But Horikawa decides against questioning it, instead bowing to Kashuu as well. He bows until he almosts hits his head on Kashuu, but thankfully, Kashuu takes a step back before that happens. “I won’t! Our masters are both enrolled in this school, then? Is your master new here too?”

In response to that, Kashuu throws his head back and laughs.

Horikawa stands still for a moment, not sure if he’s said something wrong, and whether he should be bashful about it-- Kashuu places a hand on his shoulder, though, and roots him back into place. It’s unfamiliar, to have someone who can actually look and speak to him. “My master? He’s taking the exam in a few months.”

Horikawa tilts his head. “The exam?”

This is when Kashuu lets his smile turn up into a smirk, and he points right up to the sky while he speaks. “The exam to go all the way to the top. To get the Menkyo Kaiden! That means, if he passes, it’ll be proof that he’s mastered aaall the techniques of this school, and he can be an instructor himself. At age eighteen! Isn’t that, like, amazing? I’m pretty sure your master’s older than that already. But, hey, Okita Souji is a prodigy.”

Torn between addressing that hinted jab at Hijikata or congratulating Kashuu’s master, Horikawa opens his mouth and ends up saying nothing. There is another factor distracting him, too. Kashuu crosses his arms and raises his nose might seem a little haughty, but it’s out of place, for a sword to feel haughty about the achievements of someone else. Kashuu isn’t boasting, not exactly. He’s proud of his master, and that gives him the presence and confidence to stand above Horikawa, a wakizashi who’s still trying to find his feet.

It’s not necessarily unpleasant, though. Horikawa doesn’t say anything, but he silently wonders if he’s ever be this proud of Hijikata one day.

Kashuu snaps his fingers in front of Horikawa’s eyes, and he jolts back to his senses. “Oi, seriously? Cat still got your tongue?”

“Not a cat,” Horikawa says. “You did.”

At least he still has enough wits to crack a joke. Kashuu’s eyes widen for a moment, before he lets a pffft escape from his lips. “Is that it? Did I render you speechless with my beauty?”

That’s funny, because Horikawa hasn’t actually been paying much attention to Kashuu’s appearance other than his red everything. But now that Kashuu mentions it, Horikawa’s eyes dash all around. Kashuu is still decades away from wearing Western fashion, with all its golden buttons and checkered jackets. Without knee-high boots fitted with high-heels, Horikawa actually stands a bit taller. (He doesn’t feel taller, though. He still feels a little lost.)

But he isn’t exactly plain, either. Kashuu gestures towards himself, smirk curling up on his face, and Horikawa’s eyes fall to his wrist. Kashuu’s dark red kamishimo hangs off his frame loosely, but he isn’t in any way frail. His armguards are red, his nails are red, his face is white with a mole near his lips but it’s not drained of color, either. His scarf is red, too, and it’s that striking red which caught Horikawa’s attention first.

(In a few centuries, that scarf will be faded, as if time has passed. As if Kashuu has aged. But he hasn’t, unless you count what’s happened to him as ‘aging’. His eyes will be more striking than the scarf. Or maybe his eyes were always more striking.)

“You really like red, don’t you?” Horikawa scratches the back of his head sheepishly, putting on a smile and trying to make a conversation. “With how red you look, I bet any demon would be scared off by you!”

“--What, is that all you can say?” Kashuu clicks his tongue in annoyance, and Horikawa wonders again if he’s said something wrong. “You’re kinda weird. Well, nevermind. Most of us here are weird.”

(Horikawa is weird, because he is not an outdoor sword like Kashuu Kiyomitsu. He is the not the sword you unsheathe to impress children, or the sword you draw proudly to stop crime. Wakizashis are indoor swords. They are decorations, until they are not.

And when they are not, they slit necks under the cover of darkness. They are not meant to have the sun shine on them. Horikawa is not supposed to beam with friendliness or glow with warmth, like how Kashuu is.)

“That’s right. There’s a lot of others swordsmen here, right? That means there’s a lot of swords to meet,” Horikawa hums, before smiling a bit less awkwardly. “Please introduce me to everyone and welcome me kindly, Kashuu!”

Horikawa bows again, and Kashuu bonks him on the back of the head.

“Ow--!”

“No need to be so formal,” Kashuu says incredulously, but he also sounds more amused than anything. “We’re aaall friends here, alright?”

Kashuu takes Horikawa’s hand to drag him along. Horikawa wants to voice some sort of protest about how Kashuu hit him, something like that hurt, but whatever anger he felt dissipates as Kashuu’s fingers interlock with his, and this is the first time he’s had someone hold his hand, right--?

(Horikawa is never supposed to be bathed in sunlight. But he has tasted its warmth, and doesn’t want to let go. So instead, he’ll become the sun itself, and guide everyone else along the way.)

---

Nagasone is strange, in a way, and also calming in another way.

“I’m Nagasone Kotetsu,” he introduces, and then he immediately follows up with-- “Or at least, a forgery of it.”

He acknowledges that fact with absolutely no hesitation. It’s that lack of hesitation which makes Horikawa himself hesitate, in turn, because it almost feels like a crime to let his jaw drop and simply nod along. He should be saying, I’m Horikawa Kunihiro! But, I wasn’t forged by Horikawa Kunihiro, either… just like you, Nagasone! Let’s get along! When words finally come up to his mouth, though, he’s hardly as enthusiastic as he planned to sound.

“I’m Horikawa Kunihiro,” he says with a bow. “Whether or not I’m a real Kunihiro… remains to be proven.”

In his mind, he’s cursing, because even if he’s not that good at speaking (yet), he knows that he should’ve at least sounded a bit more sincere. But Nagasone only laughs, reaching out to pat Horikawa on the shoulder.

Not the head, the shoulder. Since Nagasone stands taller than him, in both stature and loudness, it’s appreciated. As if he’s acknowledging Horikawa as an equal. “I take that we’ll get along, then?” Nagasone says that and derails Horikawa’s train of thought.

Horikawa contemplates bowing, but remembers the bonk Kashuu gave him, and instead nods with a smile. “Yes, yes! It’s nice to meet you, Nagasone!”

Words come a lot more easily now, and unlike Kashuu, Nagasone is striking in the way he stands. Chest bared, thrust out, almost daring someone to come at him-- but his feet are still rooted firmly to the ground at the same time. Even if Horikawa jumped right onto him, he’d probably be able to remain standing. His fashion sense is a little plainer, made of duller colors, but a Kotetsu blade-- forgery or not-- is focused more on its power.

And Nagasone definitely seems to have a lot of power, compared to Horikawa. Yet, Horikawa doesn’t think there’s anything to fear. He memorizes Nagasone’s face, and classifies him as a non-threat.

Kashuu then clicks his tongue again. It’s his way to telling everyone that they should pay attention to him, now, and the both of them oblige. “Jeez, why are you so much friendlier with him? What’s wrong with me?”

“He’s just shy. Don’t scare him off, Kashuu,” Nagasone warns, though it’s less of a warning and more of some good-natured jabbing. Kashuu places a hand against his hip and taps against his waist.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

Nagasone laughs. “What’s scary about me?”

“Do you want a list?”

Now, Horikawa laughs at that too. Nagasone notices and elbows him-- much more gently than Horikawa would’ve expected, from someone looking so imposing. “What, have I offended you at some point, Kashuu?”

“We’re not sorting this out in front of the new sword,” Kashuu deadpans, and Horikawa keeps switching between looking at Nagasone or looking at Kashuu. “Anyway! Since we’re all here, let’s give Horikawa a low-down on our techniques, hm?”

--Ah. “Eh?” Horikawa ends up staring into space instead, while Kashuu grabs a training sword. Nagasone does the same, and they all stand in the middle of the empty courtyard, while everyone else is still meeting each other indoors. “Right now?”

“Right now,” Nagasone answers, tossing a training sword the size of a wakizashi at Horikawa. He catches it easily enough. “Good, you’ve got a snappy reaction time.”

“I’d be worried if he didn’t,” Kashuu mutters, raising his sword. “Alright, Horikawa. What are the normal technique your master uses?”

Horikawa blinks once, then twice, then smiles awkwardly. “Oh, about that… Hijikata actually trains by himself. I… don’t really know any.”

“By himself?” Nagasone rolls his shoulder back to stand up straighter. “That isn’t good. Training by yourself only means embroiling yourself deeper in bad habits and mistakes. Without someone to observe you and comment, you’ll only get worse.”

That immediately catches Horikawa attention, and he grips the handle of his training sword. “Really? So… spending all that time training alone wasn’t good at all?” His nails might even dig into the palm of his hand, because that’s the worst possible thing he can hear. Hijikata only has a brother-in-law who knows anything about this. Swordfighting, being a samurai, that’s all something beyond farmers. Hijikata aimed to be something beyond what he was born as, but-- if training alone isn’t good, then, was everything done up till now--?

Kashuu steps forward. “Not entirely. Like Nagasone said, you have snappy reactions, right? And you’re stronger than, say, a sword that’s been collecting dust,” he hums. (As if he knows what it’s like, to collect dust.) “All we have to do now is to see if you have any missteps in how you fight.”

“That’s right. It’s not that there’s no merit-- it’s just always better to have someone else around,” Nagasone continues, and Horikawa lets out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. “So, since we’re both here, come at me! Kashuu and I will see if there’s anything off about your technique.”

Nagasone throws his arms open, and he does seem like the type of person who can probably take a beating. Still, Horikawa doesn’t strike immediately. “Wait, so I have to fix my own skills, too? But, don’t I take after my master…?”

Kashuu bonks Horikawa on the head again, but at least he’s lighter this time. Still kind of hurts, though. “Wro~ong! Not exactly. Your master takes after you, and you take after your master. When he trains, you trained too, right? Hijikata needs his weapon to shine. So if you don’t polish up your skills, how is he supposed to?”

They are the spirits of the sword. And the sword itself is said to embody the spirit of the samurai. So perhaps that makes sense, in a way.

Horikawa takes a deep breath and nods. He’ll fix all his mistakes, and with that, he’ll train along Hijikata. Silently, yes-- no humans are able to see them, mere spirits in a world full of material things, but he will train nonetheless. With that in mind, Horikawa finally takes a stance. “Alright,” he says, and he prepares to--

Kashuu grabs his shoulder, stopping him from moving. “Stop, stop, go back to how you were standing. You’ve already got that wrong.”

“Eh?!”

Something tells Horikawa that he’s got a long way to go.

---

“Faster! Wakizashi need to be faster than that!” Nagasone’s teaching is almost brutal, but he is the sword of the master’s son. Horikawa is a sword, not a person, and thus stands without all the physical limitations a human should have. Yet, maybe this much training might be a little too much? “Faster than me, I know you can. I’ve seen you run!”

Horikawa doesn’t talk back, though. He only runs. Like how Hijikata runs, trying to catch up to those younger than him-- (but he doesn’t. He never masters the Tennen Rishin-ryu. No, he creates something of his own). He runs and swerves, slamming against Nagasone’s training sword before quickly shifting his center of gravity. Horikawa runs behind Nagasone, before Nagasone can even think of turning around. He’s much faster than Nagasone.

Hitting Nagasone on the back with his training sword, he lets out a laugh. “Ouch, ouch! I’m dead, I’m dead!”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Kashuu hops off the steps and walks towards them. Nagasone rubs his back-- oh, did Horikawa really hit him too hard--? He’s got no time to check, though.

Kashuu points to the building. “Nagasone, that Sekishin Okimitsu guy you beat yesterday, he’s here. His master decided to enroll once he was defeated by Kondou.”

“Whoa, really?” Nagasone laughs. “Is he up for a rematch?”

“Prooobably,” Kashuu answers. “My master’s talking to that Yamanami Keisuke guy now, so you can find him there. I’ll take over training here.”

“Good timing-- Horikawa needs to work on his speed,” Nagasone notes, looking back at Horikawa and patting him on the back. Still not sure on where to put his eyes, Horikawa just smiles back. “He’s improved a lot, though!”

Kashuu sticks his tongue out. “Improvement or not, I’m still a strict teacher. Ju~ust like my master, see?” Ever since Okita received his Menkyo Kaiden scroll, Kashuu’s been more dedicated to teaching Horikawa than ever. His master isn’t a coach, not yet, but he will be soon and Kashuu’s already preparing for that.

Horikawa nods. “Don’t worry, Kashuu. I can take anything you throw at me! Just like my master, too.”

“Good, good, I need that attitude!” There’s something strange about how Kashuu speaks. It definitely doesn’t come from Okita, or anyone else here. There’s an accent in his voice that’s undeniably distinct. From a previous owner, perhaps? Is there anyone else Kashuu holds close to his heart?

But once again, while Horikawa thinks on all these things, he never verbalizes them. Instead, he takes a stance. It’s the stance Kashuu taught him to take, and now Kashuu holds his own training sword with one arm. “Alright. Here’s a new test for you. When you work on speed, you need to work on dexterity too, right? Try to catch me!”

And instead of rushing towards Horikawa, Kashuu starts running away.

It doesn’t seem that hard, at first. He begins by walking backwards, training sword still in front of him. “Got it!” Horikawa breaks into a sprint almost immediately, and that’s when Kashuu proves that he’s Okita Souji’s sword.

Kashuu jumps up, grabbing the top of an open window, and climbs straight onto the roof.

Horikawa kind of-- stands still, for a moment, to assess exactly what Kashuu is doing. In that time, Kashuu manages to sit comfortably on the roof tiles, legs crossed. “What are you staring at? Come on, you’re supposed to catch me!”

“Um, Kashuu,” Horikawa asks. “What are you doing?”

Kashuu waves his training sword at Horikawa, as if he’s wagging a finger. “We’re not swords that are used on the battlefield, you know! We’re meant for close quarter fighting and narrow alleyways. In a big city like Edo, there’s a lot that could get in our way! Like boxes, carts, windows, trash, animals… we need to be able to avoid them, overcome them, and chase our opponents down! Got it?”

It does make sense. Horikawa thinks over it, before tucking his training sword into his hands and climbing up to the roof in the same way.

But Kashuu is faster, more experienced. By the time Horikawa struggles on, Kashuu’s on the other side of the building, standing there almost tauntingly. “Come on, I’m not even moving! I’ll give you five seconds. Five, four, three, two… oops, nevermind!”

“Hey, I would’ve caught you if you’d counted down to zero!” Horikawa quickly follows as Kashuu steps off the roof and onto the top of a wall instead.

“Here’s a tip, Horikawa. Don’t trust what your opponent says!” Kashuu struts on, almost catwalking along the wall. His balance is impeccable, and as narrow as it is, he has complete confidence in his feet to carry him forward. As for Horikawa, running is impossible, when he feels like he might stumble off this damn platform at any second.

Next, Kashuu grabs the tip of another roof jutting over a walkway to shield it from rain. He jumps off the wall and pulls himself onto it. Now he’s meters ahead, and Horikawa can barely hobble after him. “Ehhh?! That’s not fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” Kashuu quotes, even though he shouldn’t know that saying. (The Black Ships appear in Japan like a storm. An omen of things to come. Everyone hears of them and says those strange things the Westerners say. Not a single person goes a single day without thinking of the Black Ships, carrying with them the end to isolation and the beginning of a war.

But they don’t know that yet. Kashuu just smiles cheekily and continues running.)

“Wait, hold on!” Horikawa takes a deep breath, counts to three, and jumps straight onto the roof. That turns out to be a horrible idea, because in his haste to waste less time, he loses his footing and--

Goes stumbling right down.

It’s not that alarming, honestly. Horikawa can’t say he’s ever fallen off a roof before, but his human body is merely a projection. His training sword lies next to him, more intact than he is, and Horikawa rubs the back of his head. “Ow, ow…”

“Horikawa?!” It’s Kashuu’s exclamation that comes as more alarming. Somehow, he manages to reach Horikawa in a few seconds flat-- or is his perception of time just skewed by pain? Horikawa gets off his back, and Kashuu grabs his hands. “Jeez, don’t take risks like that! Are you okay?”

“Ahah, I’m fine… ow,” Horikawa winces. Kashuu lets out something of a sigh before grabbing Horikawa’s training sword. He doesn’t seem hurt badly, so…

Kashuu tucks the swords under his arm. “Can you get up? I’ll help you up.”

“Yes.” Horikawa begins moving his feet, orienting them onto the ground, and he gets up-- only to stumble forward as his vision begins to blur.

Great. He slams right into Kashuu, who only curses as he tries to hold the both of them upright. “Oi, what’s with you?! Didn’t you say you were fine?”

“Sorry! It’s just…” What is it, honestly? Did he hurts his eyes? Did he hit his head? They’re all minor things that will fix themselves. To a tsukumogami, they’re nothing but mere inconveniences.

Kashuu sighs again. “Alright, how about this. I’ll carry you on my back, okay?”

Horikawa blinks at that offer.

“...But, Kashuu, I’m taller than you--”

“I’ll tiptoe!” That’s enough to make Horikawa laugh, and also enough to convince him that it can’t be that much of a horrible idea. He manages to wrap his hands around Kashuu’s shoulders, and true to his words, Kashuu tiptoes while slowly making his way back to the dojo.

On the way, he spots a man selling dango by the street. Without thinking too much, he grabs two sticks.

Horikawa’s eyes widen. “Hey, you shouldn’t be stealing!”

“Aren’t we, like, youkai anyway? We’re always stealing food,” Kashuu reasons before stuffing one of the dango sticks into Horikawa’s mouth. “Careful not to bite down on the wood inside, it might leave splinters on your tongue.”

“Mffph?!” Translated, that means why did you tell me that only after putting it in my mouth? It does succeed in making Horikawa shut up for a moment and focus on chewing, which might be what Kashuu was aiming for. The wood really does leave splinters, in the days before machines that can make toothpicks from trees which have stood for centuries. (What kind of fate is that, anyway? To grow for ages, to wait for centuries, only to be turned into disposables that people use for mere seconds?)

Finally reaching someplace familiar, Kashuu drops Horikawa onto the wooden steps. “Let’s start training from the basics instead, then. For example, not rushing into unnecessary risks!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Horikawa repeats, finally being able to take the dango out of his mouth.

“I’m serious,” Kashuu says. And even though he looks almost hilarious, eating that dango and sticking it into one of his cheeks so that it looks bloated, Horikawa sits at attention. “You could accidentally influence your master into take risks, too. Like I said, we’re youkai, right? Whatever we think and do has more effect on the ones closest to us than we think.”

Kashuu’s voice is still lofty, in that strangely distinguishable way. But his words carry some sort of weight with them.

Yes, putting Hijikata into a risky situation because of his own carelessness would be…

Horikawa closes his eyes. “I understand. I’ll make sure to think before I act, next time!”

“Good,” Kashuu says, before sighing and sitting next to Horikawa. “Well, that’s enough for today. Don’t make me ever do that again, please. You’re heavier than I thought, and this sweat is unsightly…”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Horikawa offers. “If you ever get in trouble, I’ll carry you on my back, okay?”

“Like I’ll ever run into trouble,” Kashuu teases. “But, I won’t argue. We’re all friends here, right?”

(Why couldn’t that stay the same?)

–-

There are people causing trouble.

They are causing the kind of trouble that the Shinsengumi are supposed to put down on sight. It is despicable, then, that the troublemakers are amongst their own ranks. They've been named the Wolves of Mibu, a ruthless murder squad who use the guise of justice to serve their own ends. It's a stain on their record which Kondou finds unacceptable. So Hijikata finds it unacceptable in turn, then Okita, then Yamanami, and everyone else is almost moot point.

Many things have changed. Firstly, they planned to form the Roushigumi, though that wasn’t to last-- the moment they stepped into Kyoto, the leader had them turn back for Edo again. It was obvious that they either has an incompetent leader, or something else is going on behind the scenes. Obviously, those with half a brain dissented, which included all their masters. Secondly, a letter had been penned to the Aizu clan, asking for permission to police Kyoto. Kondou has connections; he is a married to a woman who has relatives within those pockets of power.

Thirdly, Okita is no longer the youngest member here. There is a Toudou Heisuke, who possesses a certain Kazusanosuke Kaneshige which cannot possibly belong to a simple rounin. There is a Saitou Hajime, someone around Okita’s age, and perhaps even Kashuu’s master himself fears that man. The Kijinmaru Kunishige he wields is just as threatening, and just as predisposed to small talk-- which is to say, not at all.

Fourthly, they are now called the Shinsengumi. Whether or not the people of Kyoto accept that is a different matter altogether. Kashuu and Horikawa wear their uniform, blue with white ridges on the sleeves, but they cannot say they wear it proudly. They cannot say they are proud of their masters.

“You know what's happening, right, Horikawa?” Nagasone's voice is like a hammer, a blunt weapon swung at Horikawa's head. Those words carry a weight that is heavier than the lives of several men. “My master Kondou Isami plans to take over. We'll wipe out Serizawa Kamo and restore the Shinsengumi to what it's supposed to be. Your master wants to help, doesn't he?”

“That's correct,” Horikawa says, and his voice is trembling with something beyond him. Is this a feeling they have the right to have? “We'll break in. Tomorrow. I'll take the target from behind.”

Kashuu, who has been listening but not commenting, walks around the corner and into their sight. “...An assassination job?”

Horikawa nods. “Kashuu, you won't have to do anything. I'm a wakizashi, so I'm made for jobs like these. ...I've never actually done anything like this before, but I'm sure I can pull it off!”

He sounds almost cheerful, at the end. Kashuu smirks. “Well, my master doesn't have any complaints. He won't be participating, sure, but he'll be strateeegically positioned outside the door. You know what I mean?”

“Crystal-clear,” Nagasone replies, and they're all smiling now.

(Because this is what they were made for, right? To take lives. Even though doing this might mean more in the city, who are innocent of any crime, will live-- they're still here to do the dirty work.)

They've all been stained in blood before. In fact, since the very first moment they've arrived in Kyoto, they run into trouble left and right. They run into so much trouble that they've made a name for themselves, and now, the only real trouble on the streets they face are themselves. There is some sort of finality, now that they are finally moving to take over. At the same time, the finality is coupled with adventure, because Kondou will be taking the lead, and who knows how that'll be? Nagasone has faith in his master, and Horikawa has faith in Nagasone, so he has nothing to fear.

They just need to get this job done.

Nagasone, as the sword of Kondou, can't actually participate. There's too much risk of injury to Kondou, and there's no way they're going to take that risk. The first few steps fall into motion-- Hijikata and Yamanami force someone to die, a certain Niimi Nishiki, and the dominos begin to fall. Perhaps centuries later, people will say the Aizu clan ordered them to do this. That despite Serizawa's connection to the powerful clan which patrols the streets, he will die, by their words. Perhaps they're correct. Horikawa doesn't know. He just watches Hijikata, hears their mumbling, but also doesn't purposely seek out enough information to determine exactly what's happening. He has other worries, worries which can talk to him, speak to him-- he has no right to meddle in human affairs anyway. He'd much rather use what little influence he has as a tsukumogami to make Hijikata's strikes even more deadly.

The plan begins with a party. Kondou is conveniently absent. Okita is standing nearby. Hijikata is swirling his drink, but not actually drinking.

Assassinations take place under the cover of darkness, and no one who won't shut up must be allowed to leave. It's a shame that Serizawa is not the only unwitting party tonight. When Hijikata strikes the bed Serizawa is sleeping in, Horikawa hopes he'll aim for the man and not the unlucky woman next to him.

She'll still have to die, though. It's for the better. This is all for the better. Another innocent soul has to die because of a troublemaker, and Horikawa finally understands the tremble in his voice-- it's anger.

This is all for the better, because Hijikata thinks so. There is no further room for argument.

Kashuu is a bright red, and in the darkness perhaps he's a raven. But Horikawa's eyes, blue like the foreigners who arrive in their Black Ships, disappears into the almost tangible stillness that falls upon everyone once the night falls and their target falls asleep.

They walk into the room. The swords move first, then their owners, as if they're following a cue.

Because this is an incident behind closed doors, generation later will speculate on exactly what happened as they moved out. Did Serizawa fight back? Did Oume, the woman with him, scream and throw her own fists at the men with swords drawn? Were there still people there who respected Serizawa for the other things he'd done, but also realized there was no other way to go about this? Were there still people who thought they could stop this?

All of them all moot point. Horikawa Kunihiro goes for the neck, and that's the end of it.

Serizawa Kamo, the man who destroyed entire livelihoods for little to no reason-- the man who earned the Shinsengumi that name, the Wolves of Mibu-- he dies with a sigh and nothing else.

Oume wakes up now, and there's the resistance they were preparing for. Yamanami tries to swing at her, but unfortunately, she swerves away with speeds a normal person should not have, and his sword Sekishin gets stuck in the wall. When you're faced with the prospect of death itself, your base instincts may overpower even years of training. Oume, covered in her lover's blood, is definitely a cornered rat biting like hell.

Inoue goes in next, but he only manages to tear through her arm, and there's some sort of ungodly scream. Okita finally steps in, because are you idiots, this is supposed to be undercover, just-- but even if he kicks Oume in the stomach and forces her onto the ground, when he lifts Kashuu, he doesn't swing down.

(Why would he? He's always worked in the pursuit of justice. Why would he kill someone who has nothing to do with destroying it? He lifts his sword, and even Kashuu Kiyomitsu himself is hesitant. Thus, he doesn't swing down at all.)

Harada, having taken care of another Serizawa supporter and accidentally let one go, curses and pins Oume down. His sword is stuck in someone else right now, so he yells Okita, now! But Okita doesn't move. He doesn't move because Kashuu doesn't move.

So Horikawa moves. He told Kashuu he would think before he acts, but there is no time for that.

Hijikata yanks the wakizashi out of Serizawa's neck, and right into Oume's. It's not a peaceful death. She chokes on her own blood before watching her own eyes glaze over, and Horikawa forces himself down the entire time, stabbing with so much force that perhaps they'll just decapitate her instead.

“There!” Horikawa yells, even though there are only a few who can hear him. “Kashuu, why didn't you move?! Just because I joked that you didn't need to do anything doesn't mean you should! You've wasted us precious time, now we might be caught, and I think we let someone run away!”

No one else speaks, neither samurai or sword, as if they know this conversation is between Horikawa and Kashuu alone. He turns around on his feet, facing Kashuu, and before Horikawa can realize what he's doing, he's grabbed Kashuu by the scarf.

Because Kashuu didn't act, Okita didn't, and now his aptitude for this occupation will be questioned. Because Kashuu didn't act, everyone in this room is silent with some sort of solemness, a dangerous calm coming after a shrill scream. Because Kashuu didn't act, and now their masters are in danger.

Horikawa's voice trembles with anger, but he doesn't realize. “Answer me!”

“I'm sorry,” Kashuu croaks, before losing his footing. Horikawa lets go of his scarf before he accidentally hangs Kashuu on it, which causes him to fall to his knees. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I'm sorry.”

“...You can't just apologize, Kashuu.” Horikawa still sounds angry, though, and Kashuu buries his face in his hands. “Kashuu, I need to know why.”

Kashuu breathes, through his fingers, harshly enough that Horikawa can hear it. “Why,” he begins, but he's not answering the question. Quite the opposite. “Why were you smiling right after you killed her?”

(Horikawa's blue dissolves into the night, and he becomes a demon, covered with blood that is not his.)

Horikawa raises his hand to touch his own face. He's definitely not smiling now, but-- was he? All he can remember was anger, boiling anger which begged to be satisfied, and a brief period of said satisfaction when Oume fell dead-- is that it, then? Was he smiling? At the death of an innocent?

Everyone else begins to move, to get out before they're caught. Kashuu is still kneeling on the floor, and that's why Horikawa hauls him up by the shoulders, even though Kashuu tenses at his touch. “I'm sorry. Did I scare you?” He did much more than scare Kashuu, but there's no need to delve into poetics. “I won't get angry like that again. I'll make sure I always keeps my cool. Alright?”

The unfortunate thing about Horikawa is that he's also too forgiving, and seems to forget Kashuu's mistake right there and then. Kashuu gives a tentative nod, trying to find his balance, while Horikawa turns around.

“I can carry you on my back,” he offers, but Kashuu simply walks ahead of him without looking back.

–-

The whispers in the hallways turn into a declaration: Okita Souji has purchased a new sword.

With the commander replaced by Kondou Isami, a man who Okita Souji respects with all his being (for now), the Shinsengumi can finally serve out their goals of justice. In preparation for this, Okita Souji has decided to get another weapon, another item to display his status as a samurai. Kashuu is more nervous than Horikawa has even seen him when he leaves with Okita, and returns with a new companion.

“Yamato no Kami Yasusada,” he says, and that courtesy titles carries a sort of weight in itself. “Not easy to handle, but I’m a good sword.”

“Right, right,” Kashuu mumbles. He’s been sticking to the familiar, in this strange new city-- like how Horikawa stuck to Hijikata, then Kashuu and Nagasone when they greeted him before anyone else. He’s become good friends with Sekishin Okimitsu, though Horikawa hasn’t really had a chance to speak to Sekishin himself. The sword of Yamanami Keisuke is ‘just as much of a big brother as Yamanami is’, Kashuu claims, and perhaps Kashuu wants to be a big brother to someone too.

But he didn’t ask for a competitor. Someone to fight for Okita’s attention with.

(Is that how he sees Yasusada? Horikawa’s honestly just guessing, here.)

Kashuu doesn’t say much to Yasusada. Even the other swords notice this-- Nagasone taps Horikawa on the shoulder and says, “Kashuu doesn’t seem too happy.” Everyone except Yasusada, of course, because he’s too new here to sense that something is off. Instead, he sits next to his new master, eyes wide open and staring at Okita Souji draws Kashuu from his hip.

“It’s nice to meet you!” Horikawa greets Yasusada with a pat on the shoulder. Their eyes shine the same color, but they seem to be looking at completely different things. “I’m Horikawa Kunihiro. You’re Okita Souji’s new sword, right?”

“That’s right,” Yasusada nods, with an airy smile on his face. “I hope we get along.”

Honestly, he should be saying that to Kashuu, not Horikawa. But Horikawa, once again, doesn’t verbalize that thought. Turning back to the sparring session in front of them, they fall into a silence as Okita takes that stance Horikawa was trained to take as well.

No one else but the other tsukumogami can see Kashuu takes that exact same stance, right next to him. “Kashuu’s quite similar to me,” Yasusada notes, and he means in the curvature of their blade and the way the tip of their blade straightly takes on an edge. It makes them harder to use. A sword like that can’t just hack into someone easily. No, it has to hit its target at the correct angle, with the correct amount of force. And when that’s achieved, the entire body of the blade will come swinging down, cutting through bone and muscle and around three dead bodies stacked atop each other.

It’s just that Yasusada’s never had his full strength released. He looks air-headed, staring into nothing at all-- until he sees Okita Souji swiftly turn his wrist and strike the dummy, slicing it in half.

After that, he has something to stare at for the rest of his life.

“They’re both good, aren’t they?” Horikawa tries to make the silence a little less awkward, and Yasusada can only nod dumbly in response. “That’s what you’ll be training to reach, too. Do you think you can handle it?”

“Yes,” Yasusada says a bit too quickly. And then, he stands up-- also too quickly, because he almost stumbles over then and there. That doesn't deter him at all, though. Everyone who can see him snaps to attention when Yasusada suddenly runs next to Okita, as if he isn't training. As if Kashuu and his master aren't concentrating on something right now.

Before Horikawa or anyone can stop him, Yasusada attempts to tug on Okita’s arm. He fails, of course, but he tries anyway. “Okita, right? Can I please go next?”

“What--? He's training with me this morning, wait until I'm dead to be used!” Kashuu's harsh declaration is somehow not enough to make Yasusada turn away. If anyone wasn't paying attention, they certainly are now-- even the humans, because Okita Souji stands up straight before putting Kashuu down. Horikawa's words of That's not very nice, Kashuu! die in his throat when he sees that.

(Kashuu shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have made that prediction.)

With one sentence, Yasusada manages to get Okita to use him instead. It takes Kashuu a while to back off and register what's happening. As for Yasusada, his eyes dash between Kashuu and his master, before choosing to focus on Okita instead-- he's drawn from his sheath, and a new dummy is prepared. I should test out my new sword, Okita hums, and it does make sense. Kashuu doesn't say anything. No one says anything, because they're all backing off, expressions unreadable or all-too-readable. Horikawa himself is torn between asking Kashuu exactly what the hell is up with him and Yasusada, or watching.

Okita takes a stance. Yasusada might not have ever seen that stance before, but he's a fast learner, and he is in tune with his master. From his muscles to the tips of his fingernails, from the way his wrist turns to the way his feet is facing-- Yasusada follows all of it. His sword is poised, in the correct way, and Yasusada's heart soars in a way that proves exactly how long he's been waiting for this moment. Even if it's just a dummy. Even if this is just practice.

They raise their arms together, in perfect synchronicity. Yasusada grabs Okita’s hands, as if he's leading him. And with that, Yasusada swings down right when Okita does, slashing the dummy right in half, and even though the wooden pole hoisting it up.

Hijikata is the first one to clap. Then Yamanami, then Kondou, then Heisuke, then--

Horikawa claps, but Kashuu doesn't. Even Yasusada is clapping, not even realizing how distanced his partner seems. “That was perfect, Okita. I didn't think much of you at first, but I see now that I was wrong.”

Okita smiles, and it's obviously in response to the clapping, not Yasusada's words. (Or is it?)

This is when Horikawa takes a moment to step forward and see exactly what kind of expression Kashuu is making. Except he can't, because Kashuu covers his face at that very moment and storms out. Nagasone stands up to follow him, but his master grabs him at that exact moment, and now he needs to stay by Kondou's side. Horikawa looks at Hijikata, and it doesn't look like he needs him right now-- so he nods at Kondou and runs after Kashuu himself.

Yasusada only notices what's happening now. “...Hm? Kashuu? Where are you going?”

No one answers him, perhaps because they cannot, or they do not want to. Yasusada blinks at Horikawa when he turns back, and Horikawa opens his mouth to say something, before simply tearing himself away and continuing to run.

Okita raises Yasusada again, and his attention goes back to his master.

“Kashuu!” Horikawa finally calls out for his friend when he realizes he can't see him anyway. “Kashuu, where are you?! What's wrong? Did Yasusada offend you? Kashuu, if anything's the matter, you can always talk to us!”

Normally, when Kashuu's irritated, he'll make it well-known. A loud Go away! I'm busy! or a quick kick to the leg is enough to send the message. But now, Horikawa is met with abject silence, and perhaps that is the most terrifying response of all. There are no birds singing, perhaps because Kashuu has scared them off, a distraught youkai running through the trees. Horikawa takes a gamble and runs through the trees as well.

“Kashuuuu!” Horikawa's voice is shriller than he intended for it to be, but now isn't the time to think about something like that. “Kashuu! Kashuu, where-- Kashuu!”

(Horikawa covers his face for a moment. Don't get angry. Don't get angry. Find out what's happening. Don't get angry.)

As usual, Kashuu stands out by being a burst of red amongst the brown bark of the trees. But for a moment, Horikawa mistakes him for something that isn't alive. He's, for lack of a better word, slumped against the tree like a rug.

Because Kashuu doesn't respond, Horikawa's next action is to grab his shoulder. “Kashuu? ...Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he breathes, even though that's obviously a lie. “I'm fine.”

Horikawa's face crosses from worry to sternness. “Kashuu, you're not. Please, just tell us. If there's anything we can do--”

“And what if you can't do anything about it?” Kashuu only shakes his head, almost melting into the tree, into the still forest where no birds are singing. It's dark here, shaded by the leaves overhead, and Horikawa wonders if the lack of light has a life of its own. If the darkness could swallow them, rather than light simply failing to grace their faces.

He holds onto Kashuu's shoulder even more tightly. “You said that tsukumogami have more affect on the environment than anyone might think, right? We can always try.”

Horikawa says it with such certainty, that Kashuu raises his own hand to touch the one on his shoulder. He touches Horikawa's hand, and he wonders if it would be better, if swords didn't have skin to touch. If they didn't have spirits. If they just didn't exist. Horikawa's presence is so gentle, that Kashuu can almost forget that this is the same sword, who knelt by a dying body and grinned--

“Alright,” Kashuu begins. His breath bristles the bark of the tree, as if he was human. As if he has as much presence in this world as something tangible, something real. In the world not bathed by sunlight, youkai dance, and Kashuu can understand why. Here, where humans tread lightly, he can almost pretend that he's real. That he has the right, to ask Horikawa of this-- “Then, get rid of Yamato no Kami Yasusada.”

Horikawa doesn't move.

“I can't do that,” Horikawa answers, and his voice is steady but soft. “I'm sorry. Please let us understand why you want that.”

There is so much Kashuu can say. Yasusada and I, we're basically the same sword, why does Okita need two of us? Or, Please, I don't want to fight for love. I don't want to fight, because I know I'll lose. I was born to lose. I was made to lose, I am tainted with more death than a sword of justice should be, he'll choose Yasusada over me when the moon wanes and the tides turn and I'll be gone, again-- please, I just want to be the most important thing to someone, I don't want to be second best or a spare-- for once, can I go back, to being the only one--?

Instead, he turns around, to look right at Horikawa.

Then he grips Horikawa's hand, before gently pushing it off his shoulder.

“It's nothing,” Kashuu says, and he doesn't meet with Horikawa's eyes. As if-- or because he knows-- it's not enough of an answer, he repeats. “It's nothing. We should get going, shouldn't we?”

Before Horikawa can protest, Kashuu walks on ahead, forcing a smile onto his face. “What kind of master would love a sword who just runs off into the forest during training, anyway?” Without meaning to, he reveals the answer to Horikawa. The answer to why he ran in the first place, the reason for everything Kashuu does. But Horikawa, now of all times, doesn't think too much about Kashuu's words. Instead, he simply walks next to Kashuu.

“If you ever think you'll feel better telling anyone,” Horikawa says, “I'm all ears. Nagasone's all ears too, probably. And Sekishin too.”

“Jeez, Horikawa, I thought I was the senior here?” Kashuu's calm enough to sound sarcastic, at least. “...I'll keep it in mind.”

“Good,” Horikawa replies. Since Kashuu says nothing else as they walk back, Horikawa doesn't.

There is nothing to say, after all.

(When they come into sight, Yasusada bounds towards them and immediately kneels on the floor. Kashuu Kiyomitsu, please teach me everything you know! Please take me as your student! Horikawa's blood runs cold, for a moment, wondering exactly what horrible thing Kashuu might say to break Yasusada's heart.

Instead, though, Kashuu simply smiles. Sure, sure, kid. You're an enthusiastic one, aren't you? Like, that isn't a bad thing. You'd better follow my leads, step by step, alright?

In the end, Kashuu doesn't say anything. Not to Horikawa, or Nagasone, or the other swords amongst the Shinsengumi. He doesn't say anything not because he has nothing to say, but because he has no right to say them. Having human feelings like these, of jealousy and anxiety-- it's not their right. It'll get in their master's way. Kashuu loves his master too much to contemplate the thought of just tossing Yasusada aside. He can't fail Okita Souji again. Not like when he was supposed to kill Oume.

He definitely teeters on the edge several times. For example, when Yasusada asks him an innocent question while he's a little too angry and gets a piercing glare in response. Or when Yasusada fails to grasp a technique a few too many times, and Kashuu screams at his face till he cries. Just like Kashuu, when Yasusada hears those harsh words, his feet lock in place and his voice breaks with a croak. It's fine, though, because Kashuu stays until he stops shivering, patting his back over and over. I didn't mean it. Jeez, you're annoyingly sensitive, you know? ...I really, really didn't mean it. Perhaps he decides to help Yasusada over listening to his own fears, because, as stated-- they're basically the same sword. They've been through the same things.

Maybe not exactly, but he doesn't want Yasusada to cry, because it reminds him of himself, and he realizes how much he'd wish someone else would stop him from crying too. But now, he doesn't ever cry, and so, he doesn't know if anyone can coax away his tears like he can for Yasusada.)

---

Horikawa doesn't have any of the fears Kashuu does when his master announces he'll have a new sword made, just for him.

It's not a surprise. He's been tempted, many times, by the names around Kyoto. This city is not like the countryside-- while swordsmiths are still men of a dying art, they yet live, and those who do what they do best always live in cities like this. Hijikata goes for the most famous name, of course-- nothing less for the Shinsengumi. Hijikata seeks out an Aizu Kanesada, who is said to be the eleventh generation of the Kanesada. (Not the Aizu clan, not that Aizu-- he's not that powerful. For someone with his skill, he's hardly powerful at all.)

The Kanesada, Horikawa has learnt, is a name that makes people stop short. It is a name so famous, that people gape in awe at the signature. However, the next question on their lips is always-- What generation? Or rather, Is that a second-generation Kanesada?

Only swords of the second generation really matter. Still, Hijikata goes to this man, and they speak. The swordsmith puts iron in the fire while they do, because it will take three days in the flames to become pure enough for use. They speak, and Hijikata learns that the swordsmith has the courtesy title Izumi-no-Kami. And, if he asks for it, Hijikata can receive a sword signed Izumi no Kami Kanesada instead of Aizu Kanesada. Hijikata accepts, and Horikawa almost feels a little bad for the swordsmith. His name will be replaced by a title used simply to signify status, a title which many has shared throughout history. But how many people have been given the name 'Aizu' by their parents, as they were dandled on the knee?

--It's not in his place, to think about human things like that. So he simply waits, while his friend is forged. Someone who will be named Izumi no Kami Kanesada, someone who will be forged to be similar to Horikawa Kunihiro, because they will be a pair, a team. Hijikata is a busy man, but he is also a curious one, and he does spare a bit of time to watch the man work, three days later.

Horikawa has always held respect for the people who make swords like him, but upon seeing the processes, he realizes exactly why they are regarded as pieces of art and not weapons. The iron begins as a mess, a flat lump not unlike a signboard, metal spread all over the table. But then his hammer hits iron, burning red with the help of the coals. It hits the iron, again and again, forcing it to fold and bend. The sword is long, and he has to hit it several times for each fold, and yet he is perfectly precise. He folds, again and again and again, for dozens of times. Then hundreds. Then thousands.

Horikawa can see the hamon taking shape, the metal being refined to take on a point. He can see someone being born. He can see someone being named, when the swordsmith finally wipes away his sweat and carves his name onto the hilt.

Izumi no Kami Kanesada is dunked in water, and the metal is still so hot that the water boils.

A lovely koshirae is tabbed onto the hilt, to hide and protect the swordsmith's signature. When the sword makes its way into Hijikata's hands, it can already be swung, and so he swings it once. It only hits air, and yet, there is a burst of something as light floods into the room.

It's the afternoon sun. But to Horikawa, it's much more than just the light he is never supposed to see.

Izumi no Kami Kanesada is born with hair already too long, and clothes already too flashy. He is born with a Shinsengumi jacket slung across his shoulders, and when he opens his eyes, he takes one look at Hijikata before copying his smirk.

“It's nice to meet you!” Horikawa greets him, and Kanesada nearly jumps from surprise. “Oh, sorry. I'm Horikawa Kunihiro! Izumi no Kami Kanesada, right? That's a mouthful...”

Kanesada's smirk disappears, and instead, he looks down at his hands. His hair is long enough to reach the floor, and he stands around a head taller than Horikawa. And yet, he doesn't seem taller at all. “--It's not that bad,” Kanesada mutters. “...Nice to meet you. Kunihiro.”

“Awww, last names? How formal,” Horikawa teases. “I'll call you Kanesada, then. But since you're my junior, maybe I should give you a cute nickname? How about Kane-san?”

Kanesada fiddles with his fingers, hunching his back. He should be copying Hijikata's stance, his confidence and his power-- but he isn't. “...Sure, sure. Why not.”

Maybe he would protest, if he was older than a few seconds. But he isn't.

Horikawa looks at Kanesada, and he's reminded of himself.

---

“Kashuu, how do you take care of someone?”

“Huh?” Kashuu raises an eyebrow incredulously. “Well, you stab--”

“No, no, not that kind of 'take care'!” Horikawa points to Kanesada, sitting outside the dojo and on the wooden steps. “You helped to train me, Kashuu. And Yasusada, too. I'm not really sure on how to approach Kanesada in the same way, seeing that he's, well... a tachi. He looks at Hijikata and tries acting like him, but Hijikata hasn't used him at all, and I really don't want things to stay like this! But if Hijikata doesn't make the effort to try catching Hijikata's attention...”

Kashuu snaps his fingers. “So~o! You want advice on how to raise Kanesada's fighting spirit, right? Well, you and Yasusada already came with it. Kanesada's a special case, since he's younger than all of us.”

He twirls on his feet, looking at Kanesada. Horikawa steps up next to Kashuu. “But, even though he's like, a few days old, he's not a human child. He's still perfectly capable of thinking on his own. So you can't hand-hold him like you might with a tantou. He's a tachi, so he's theoretically more mature than us.” Pause. “Theoretically.”

Horikawa makes a face. “Hmmm...! Then what should I do? Give him hints and hopes he follows them? He's a sword, so he'll feel the natural call of combat soon enough, but... what about after that? How do I train him without getting on his nerves? How do I look after him when he's already yelling at Nagasone for fussing over him?”

Kashuu lets out something of a laugh when he hears there. “Jeez, you're going to look after him? You sound like you're his nanny.”

Pause.

Horikawa suddenly jerks his head up, as if he's hit a revelation. “That's it! Thanks a lot, Kashuu!” And he runs off, just like that, while Kashuu blinks in confusion. After a few seconds of aforementioned blinking, he panics for a moment and yells-- “Wait, wait! Please don't actually become his maid!”

Well, that's not exactly his plan. So Horikawa doesn't stop.

“Kane-san!” His voice almost bounces off the walls, and definitely catches Kanesada's attention. “From today on, I'll be your assistant! You can count on me with anything you need, alright?”

Kanesada narrows his eyes. “Ehhh? What's this all about?”

“You should focus on training and learning from our master, Hijikata,” Horikawa says. “And since you're a tachi, I guess you're actually the senior, huh? So I'll be your assistant.”

There are not a lot of things someone can say after a declaration like that. But Kanesada is impressionable, a person newly created, and he's easily taken in by the word senior. So, without much of a beat: “Well, if you say so, Kunihiro.”

Kashuu watches from behind the door, and suddenly, he's kind of thankful Yasusada is at least more than ten days old.

---

“Horikawa, why are our eyes blue?”

It's a completely innocuous question, with absolutely no good answer. Yasusada pulls on Horikawa's sleeve while he's cleaning the training swords. “Why are you named Yasusada?” Horikawa shrugs. “That's just how it is, I guess.”

Yasusada pouts, as though he was expecting more. “That can't be the only thing to it, right? Why don't we have brown eyes, like everyone else?”

“We're youkai, tsukumogami of the sword. It makes sense that we don't look similar,” Horikawa answers. “Maybe the colors are supposed to represent something about us? Or what our swordsmith wants from us. I know that I didn't wear the Shinsengumi uniform until it was formed, too, so I definitely wasn't born with this destiny. The haori we're all wearing comes from our owner's influence, so if our clothing comes from them, then our looks might come from our maker. Right?”

Now, that's an answer Yasusada can be satisfied with. He looks up to the sky, trying to figure out why his eyes would be blue, like the foreigners the bakufu attempt to expel. But then he looks up at the sky and realizes.

“The sky,” Yasusada says, with such wonder it's as if he's figured out everything he needs to know. “Do my eyes look like the sky?”

Was he forged to bring his owner to heights beyond the clouds? Horikawa looks up, scrapping the last bits of dirt and chipped wood off the training sword. “Your eyes do match the color of the sunny sky, Yasusada!”

Yasusada goes onto his tiptoes, reaching out to touch the sky. Does he actually think he can touch it? Horikawa looks at the swords in his hands, before suddenly taking one for himself and handing one to Yasusada.

“Huh?”

“I'll show you how to climb the roofs,” Horikawa offers, smile on his face. “You can get closer to the sky, that way!”

How long has it been, since he's first grabbed a roof tile and forced himself up to the top? How long has it been since he's met Kashuu and Nagasone? How long has it been since Hijikata realized his destiny to be here? How much has Horikawa changed? These are questions Horikawa could ask, but only when the clouds move slowly and they find no more trouble on the streets. The headquarters is peaceful, and Yasusada follows Horikawa's lead, rather ungracefully flailing himself up the walls. He's a little slow, and Horikawa sits still for a while every now and then-- “Come on, don't be a slowpoke! Use your arms!”

“Alright, alright. I'm trying, I'm trying,” Yasusada repeats.

When they arrive on the highest roof, it takes a moment for Horikawa to realize they aren't alone. Nagasone leans on the side, while Kashuu lies on his back, one of his legs on the other's knee while he sighs and stares at the clouds.

“Who is it?” Kashuu looks up. “Oh, it's you two. Hey, are you teaching Yasusada how to climb...? That's supposed to be my job!”

“Sorry, did you actually want to teach him?” Horikawa scratches the back of his head sheepishly while Nagasone laughs. Yasusada only looks confused. “But, you are my teacher, so technically, you're teaching him too. Indirectly.”

Kashuu sticks his tongue out at the 'indirectly'. “Well, are you here for, like, something?”

“Just to look at the sky,” Yasusada answers. And they all accept that answer.

It's peaceful, for the next few seconds, until Kanesada yells.

“Oi! How the hell did you guys all get up there?!” He flings his hair back and tries reaching for the grooves in the wall. But Kanesada, a tachi, is a little less naturally flexible or dextrous. He manages to climb up around a feet, then he unceremoniously loses footing and falls to the ground.

Horikawa immediately begins climbing down. “Hold on, Kane-san! As your assistant, I'll help you up!”

“No, I want to try doing this myself! --And stop calling me Kane-san in front of everyone else! I can hear you laughing, Yasusada, stop it!”

In the end, Horikawa does help Kanesada, and he actually manages to get up on the roof. It's a miracle in itself, Kashuu declares, and he leaps out of the way when Kanesada throws a punch. Yasusada looks up at the sky.

Horikawa decides that maybe the sky doesn't fit him. Maybe Horikawa doesn't want to reach the skies. Why is he blue, then? --Perhaps he's supposed to a calm presence, a never-ending constant, capable of both lulling people to a peaceful sleep or erupting with anger. And no one ever wants to see him angry, so he tries not to be. He's larger than what he seems. He is...?

If Yasusada is the blue of the sky, does that leave Horikawa as the blue of the sea?

(Yasusada's dreams try to reach heaven, but Horikawa's dreams can't even touch the air.)

---

“The enemy is at Ikedaya.”

They finally get the answer after hours of torturing the prisoners they have. It is a job left to Hijikata and Horikawa. It is not a job he will ever, ever let Kanesada have, both out of common sense and concern for what he would feel going through it. In any case, when Hijikata declares that sentence, the entire Shinsengumi whirrs to life. This is something so much more than a simple patrol, or a small dispatch to calm a rogue group. This is an operation to shut down an alleged organization of extremists, planning to burn down Edo itself.

“I'll be fighting this time? For the first time!” Kanesada lets Horikawa tuck his hair back, tying it in various different ways with as many ribbons and rope he can find. Horikawa still thinks it'll probably get in the way, so hopefully, Hijikata can use Kanesada with enough prowess that the tsukumogami could be tripping over his own hair and still win.

Everything seems simple enough. The Shinsengumi has pulled off greater feats, during their days as the Wolves of Mibu, tearing through entire groups of sumos. But this time, this fight is for the good of Japan itself, and Horikawa cannot afford to slack. He repeats to himself, I need to know what to do, and walks through every step in his mind. He tries to remember and visualize Ikedaya Inn from the various patrols Hijikata has done there, walking through Sanjou Bridge, watching as people bustle by.

“You'll be coming as reinforcements to secure the rear,” Nagasone commands. “Horikawa, Kanesada, make sure no rounin which runs out of the inn escapes. They are all a threat.”

“Understood,” they both say in union, and Nagasone pats them on the shoulder.

“How the both of you have grown!” Nagasone laughs when Kanesada makes a face and Horikawa pouts a little. “Nevermind. Cut me some slack and let me get a bit sentimental now and then.”

Kashuu speaks up next. “We'll be running out the second floor and making sure no one escapes through the window! Right, Yasusada? You'll be back-up for if Okita needs to draw two swords.” It's a bit of a joke, but there are techniques which speak of the merits dual-wielding brings. Joke or not, Yasusada responds completely seriously, and Kashuu flicks him on the forehead while going You aren't very smart, you know.

Horikawa steps forward. “I wish all of you good luck! Please, don't get yourself into too much danger!”

“Kiiind of an impossible request, since we're the Shinsengumi and all,” Kashuu answers with a smirk. “We'll be fine. Make sure you come on time, reinforcements!”

---

(If you know where the story goes from here, then, this is where you put foreshadowing for how they don't arrive on time. But honestly, there was no way for them to ever arrive on time, no way to stop what happens next. It is an unfortunate twist of fate, and no one can be blamed for it. Even if they might all blame themselves, in different ways.)

---

“Chaaarge!”

Kanesada yells that to no one in particular, but he really does charge. He charges onto the rounin on the street, tachi swinging down on their necks. If it doesn't cut, the weight itself can probably shatter bones, and that's what Kanesada is relying on. A tachi is sturdy, strong, capable to bearing down with all its might. He might not turn or run as quickly as a smaller sword, but little nicks mean absolutely nothing to him. He can afford to be a little reckless, twisting here and there to crack a head or dig into a stomach. What they need, more than anything else, is to make up for lost time.

Horikawa hops onto Kanesada's shoulders. “I'll be your eyes! Just keep swinging!”

And swing he does, because Horikawa's directions are perfect. His hair does get in the way, but in the end, he doesn't even need to look for himself. “Right! Your right! Now to the southwest, someone's sneaking up on our master! --Stick your sword up, someone's leaping from the second storey-- oh, perfect hit! Really messy, though...”

Needless to say, the streets are cleared of life but are full of dead bodies.

When Kanesada finally swings down on the last person in tandem with Hijikata, he heaves a sigh of relief. “That wasn't so bad! I was made for combat in the big streets, huh?”

“That's right, Kane-san!” Horikawa decides not to remind him that if it wasn't for Horikawa's direction, he'd probably be embedded in the walls of a miscellaneous building right now. “Let's go inside, then. Do we have a clear here?”

Nagasone yells at them, from the other side of the street-- “Horikawa! Kanesada! In here!” Kondou howls the same thing at Hijikata, and they all turn to the inn in perfect unison, before breaking into a run.

The situation doesn't seem that dire. Rounin are wild, untamed, but also unorganized, and Hijikata didn't have much trouble. The entire group of reinforcements cleared out the streets. Of course, they weren't here to see the first seconds of combat, and those first few seconds are when the real decisions are made. Lives are ended before they can even fight for their right to breathe. Horikawa walks in and spots blood, blood spilled upon extinguished lanterns, blood congealed and blood still flowing. He sees people he recognizes, from when the clouds drift peacefully across the sunny sky, and they were very much alive but now they are very much dead. There aren't many he recognizes, thankfully enough, but he can hear the wails-- the wails of both humans and spirits alike, mourning for those long gone.

He walks through the mess. He finds Okita Souji on the floor.

That's when Kanesada freaks out.

“Yasusada?! Yasusada, what happened?!” It should be simple enough. The answer should be simple enough, when Kanesada calls Yasusada but the latter doesn't even turn to look at him. Horikawa kneels down next, wondering if this is what Nagasone called them to see.

He takes a closer look. Okita is breathing. Horikawa breathes in turn, in some sort of relief, but he cannot deny that Yasusada appears far too solemn for someone whose master is simply knocked out.

Kanesada shakes Yasusada. “Yasusada, where's Kashuu?!”

And that's when Horikawa's eyes fly down to the empty sword sheath.

“Upstairs,” Yasusada answers, and his eyes look like the sky while carrying absolutely none of its innocence. “He's upstairs. The reinforcements were late.”

When Yasusada says that, he means the both of them. They were both late. They know that.

Horikawa doesn't waste any more time, though. He dashes up the stairs, and he can almost feel his lungs burn, bubbling with some sort of anxiety and adrenaline he hasn't felt in a long time. No, it's not anxiety-- he's angry, at himself and at the rounin who already lie dead. He's angry, and it crosses into his eyes, warning of a torrential flood incoming.

Every loud step he takes up the stairs is like a wave smashing against the shore, threatening everyone nearby. Every breath is like howling winds that have swirled into hurricanes over the seas, which is perhaps why the crowd of youkai upstairs part like the red sea when he arrives. Some spirits are attracted to death, some to grief, and some are newly made spirits in themselves, still fuming with a need for vengeance and redemption. But all of them let Horikawa pass through.

There is a pocket of silence, where Kashuu lies. No one dares to approach him. His body is slumped over the floor, face hidden.

“Kashuu,” Horikawa begins, and he's not sure if Kashuu can answer. “Kashuu, your--”

His sword is in two pieces, a horrible omen in itself. He no longer has the tip of his sword. He said he would be fine, but he lied, and now he doesn't even respond when Horikawa gingerly pulls his hair away.

There is a wound on his neck. It is a wound so deep he might as well be decapitated, and Horikawa is reminded of the wound he gave Oume, a woman too unlucky to live. Her death was one that fell upon her due to the follies of love, and centuries later, Horikawa will realize that Kashuu's death occurs for exactly the same reason.

Horikawa feels nothing, because he is completely numb. Maybe his heart stops in his chest, too, because all his muscles lock into place, and he can't move. He can't even breathe.

Kashuu's finger twitches.

He doesn't move his head. He has the same fear Horikawa does-- which is, if he moves, then his neck will snap and that will finally be the end of him. This is an injury that is not merely of their human body. The tsukumogami reflects the current status of the sword, and right now, Kashuu is on the verge of nonexistence.

For now, though, he raises an arm. Horikawa grabs his hand.

“Don't leave me,” Kashuu whispers, and it's such a desperate noise that Horikawa's anger dissipates entirely. “Please don't ever leave.”

“I won't,” Horikawa answers, and his voice trembles with grief instead. “I won't leave.”

To think that you will die alone is the most crushing feeling in the world. It suffocates with more despair than even a slit throat can bring. Horikawa holds Kashuu's hand to his chest, just to make sure Kashuu knows he's still there, living and breathing. Kashuu is not dead, not exactly, but he can't even move or say another word. Horikawa's hands are warm, and to someone who can't feel anything else, he's like the sun.

Nagasone kneels silently by their side. Kanesada curses a bit too loudly from downstairs, while Yasusada tries again to wake his master up. Horikawa doesn't leave until Hijikata carries Okita himself, and Kondou fetches the broken sword from the floor. With more gentleness than anyone would ever expect from someone that looks like Nagasone, he lifts Kashuu from the ground, keeping his head level and flipping Kashuu onto his back. It's then that Horikawa realizes Kashuu's eyes were wide open, the entire time, and they shine red with absolute terror.

Horikawa holds onto Kashuu's hand, even as they reach the headquarters and Okita Souji awakes. He holds on till Okita say that he should take Kashuu to the swordsmith, and Kashuu finally smiles a little.

Yasusada offers to carry him instead, and to let Nagasone hand Kashuu over easily, Horikawa lets go. Kashuu lets out some kind of breathless ah as he does, but he can't say anything more.

Everything should be fine, once the swordsmith fixes him.

---

“Kashuu is gone.”

And after Yasusada says that, nothing ever becomes fine again.

Nagasone is the next to go, when his master is accused of an assassination. It's like karma, a bitter retribution, for what Kondou orchestrated against Serizawa. Horikawa thinks he can still taste Oume's blood, along with Kashuu's fear, but they have both been dead for years. Yasusada falls behind at Toba, and his master is sent back-- some will say, in the future, that the first omen of Okita Souji's illness presented itself at Ikedaya Inn. But back then, they thought things were fine.

They really did.

The Shinsengumi has long since dissolved at this point. Everyone hangs on with their (vaguely) strong allegiance to the Tokugawa. But then Tokugawa Yoshinobu himself runs away during battle, and everything begins falling apart even further.

Everyone is splintered. Sekishin's owner died ages ago, through the orders of Hijikata and Kondou themselves. Yasusada eats into Yamanami Keisuke's neck, and he is haunted by the taste of his blood the same way Horikawa is haunted by Oume's. Kanesada is never drawn out of his sheathe again, even though they were finally fighting on the battlefields he was made for. These battlefields are now ruled by machinery, and Hijikata charges not with swords, but with guns.

“Is it my fault?” Kanesada says that, when he thinks Horikawa can't hear him. “If I was faster, would Kashuu have lived?”

“No,” Horikawa answers, but his voice is softer than a whisper and this time it is Kanesada who cannot hear him. He cannot hear the one word he needs to hear the most, and Horikawa has failed as his assistant.

Hakodate is bitterly cold, but it is cold not because of the snow, but because Horikawa is alone.

“Good-bye, Kane-san,” Horikawa says with some sense of melancholy. He hides his anger with grief, something that Kanesada does not do, which is why he is kicking and screaming when Hijikata orders that Kanesada be sent back to his home. He will fight with Horikawa and another tachi, someone Horikawa hasn't taken care of like Kanesada. Izumi no Kami Kanesada, hair too long and life too short, begs his master that he is the one who should be fighting by Horikawa's side, please, please--

The battle itself is something of a dog-and-pony show. Hijikata doesn't even need to be here. He doesn't even need to charge. He knows that if he does, he'll die. That's why he sent back memoirs of himself, to his family waiting back home, not knowing that they will never see him again. Horikawa sits with Hijikata on the last horse they will ride on.

“Is this what we're fighting for?” Hijikata doesn't answer. “...Very well. Let's go. Onto the battlefield!”

Hijikata charges, and is shot by a bullet which shatters his back a few seconds later.

Horikawa doesn't even leave his sheathe. He knew this would happen. He cries anyway, against the mud and the rain.

(The thing about happiness is that it falls apart too quickly.)

---

“They call the Shinsengumi villains,” Izumi no Kami Kanesada says, after Horikawa finally reunites with him and they've spent enough time embracing through tears. “They call our master a fucking villain.”

“Of course,” Horikawa answers. “History is written by the victors.”

It's meant to be a comforting statement, a declaration that all they have fought for can't possibly be villainy. They fought for justice, and they did bring justice-- it's just that they lost, and thus, they are the terrorists, not the revolutionaries. But Kanesada hears that statement and is reminded, once again, that they lost.

The Hijikata household is relatively peaceful the next half a century. The wars after that are all found with ammunition and tanks. Swords have no place on the battlefield, and they instead become heirlooms. Horikawa wonders if this fate is really alright, after all that's happened.

Sometimes, he thinks of everyone else. He thinks of lying on the roof, staring at the blue sky, climbing up buildings and laughing. He thinks of stealing food from the counters when no one is looking and feeling so ashamed afterwards that Horikawa ends up feeding it to hungry cats instead. He thinks of Kashuu, a striking red wearing a smile tinged with desperation. He thinks of Nagasone, hard as rock but also kind like a father, pushing them to their limits through training and bringing them further. He thinks of Yasusada, eyes like pieces of the sky, innocence robbed away by years of owners who couldn't love him and the death of the one person who did.

But, at least Kanesada is still here, looking out into the street. “When everyone is asleep,” Horikawa hums, “should we grab ourselves and spar? Just to make sure we won't get rusty if anyone ever needs to use us. We'll have to be quiet. Humans would be pretty scared to see the swords using themselves!”

“Sure,” Kanesada answers, and his smile looks so much like Hijikata's that it makes Horikawa's heart hurt.

When Kanesada picks up his sword and pulls it out his sheathe, his expression becomes grave in a way that Horikawa can recognize. Because it’s the face he puts on when he’s thinking too hard, but it’s different than the one he uses to face death and disaster-- he put on that face whenever they trained together, because Kanesada keeps talking about expertise and practicality. As much as he sounds like he’s gloating, he is always, always completely serious, to the point it’s as funny as it is tragic.

At one point, he actually manages to parry Kanesada’s arm away, and-- “Kane-san, I did it!” Horikawa says that with such zeal that Kanesada himself believes it. Believes that he actually has someone who still looks up to him, like a comrade. As if they’re still fighting for something.

Horikawa’s fighting for happiness, so perhaps not everything is an elaborate deception. If his own life can never be bathed in sunlight, then at least, he can try to be the sun for the one person he has left.

---

“I'm your assistant, Kane-san. Anything that I can do, I'll do for you.”

“No,” Kanesada breathes, holding desperately onto Horikawa's hands. “No, please, you can't go! You're the last person I have! I'll go!”

Horikawa smiles with grief, because he is not angry. He is not angry about how Japan has lost a war he hasn't even participated in. He is not angry about the foreigners marching on the streets, looking not that different from the ones emerging from the Black Ships all those years ago. He is not angry that some have eyes as blue as Horikawa, and instead, he wonders if they were made for the sky or the sea.

This is not the fault of anyone here. It is how history has turned. There is nothing more to say.

“I'll see you again,” Horikawa promises, and he does not realize it is an empty one. “I heard that they might return the swords, so I'll see you again, alright? When they come to seize the weapons of the Hijikata household, let them seize only me so they won't be suspicious.”

Kanesada shakes his head desperately. “No! Without you, I'll...!”

“I'll come back,” Horikawa says. He is the last thing Kanesada has, and Kanesada is also the last thing he has. He has been protecting Kanesada this entire time, and this is no exception. They share a bond of both brotherhood and tragedy. Horikawa doesn't want to add more to that tragedy. “Alright?”

---

Unfortunately, in the age of guns and ammunition, swords have no value in the eyes of those who have only heard of them in legends and fairytales. Horikawa is tossed into the sea with numerous others.

His distaste of modern weaponry goes beyond the fact that they've killed Hijikata. They've killed Horikawa, as well, rendering him useless as he sinks into the sea and he can't see the light. It takes a few days of denial to realize that, no, he won't ever rise to the surface again. He can try swimming all he wants, but youkai are meant to dance in the darkness of the air, not the blackness of an abyssal sea.

A tsukumogami is helpless without air to breathe.

“This is bad,” Horikawa finally says with the last breath he's been saving for ages, right before he hit the water. “If I'm not there, Kane-san will...”

Bubbles rise to the surface, whisking away Horikawa's last bit of air. His voice dies in his throat, but unlike a human, he doesn't need air to live. He won't die. Not for a long time.

For better, or for worse.

(Is it fitting, that the boy with eyes of the sea dies in it? Is it fitting that while he waits to rot, he will never be bathed in daylight? Wasn’t he supposed to become the sun? But even the sun can’t boil the sea. He was never meant to be either--)

He tries raising his hand, but it's heavy with water. The pressure begins to eats into Horikawa's real body, and after a while, it stops being excruciating because he's so numb. He tries raising his hand again, against gravity and the water weighing down. He tries to reach for the sky, for dreams that breach the heavens and the familiar sight of clouds that they all stared at--

He wonders if tsukumogami all go to Omi as well. If he'll see everyone in the afterlife, rotten flesh and maggots eating out their eyes. He wonders if that's better or worse than nonexistence. He wonders if Kanesada is still waiting for him.

He wonders everything, while he exerts one final effort, and he can see his finger in front of him, and they-- break off--

Horikawa is enveloped by light, and he wonders if it's because he's finally dead.

---

”I call upon you.”

That probably isn't the voice of Izanami-no-Mikoto, welcoming him into Omi. Horikawa gasps, and he realizes he can breathe. ”Accept this vessel, a new sword forged for your soul that you can mend to suit your memory. I call upon you for your assistance in this mission...”

“What? Who are you?” Horikawa forgets his manners for a moment, because he's torn between elation and wondering if this is a delusion. “What's going on?”

”Fight against the Retrograding Army, and protect the rightful course of history. Humans have not lived long enough to experience the events of the past, but tsukumogami like you may have seen many events first-hand, and we call upon both your skill and your knowledge...”

Horikawa tries to find his footing, once he realizes he can move in this expanse of white space. He wants to say something, anything, but his thoughts snap to Kanesada, waiting at the Hijikata household for him. He wonders how long he's been waiting, and with that in mind, Horikawa reaches out into nowhere--

“I accept whatever you have! Please, I just need to know one thing!”

The whiteness tears away into colors, into vision, into pink flowers that flutter in his vision. But Horikawa doesn't have any time to spare. His voice is a tizzy of impatience, from waiting days (or decades) on the seafloor, and he must ask this.

“Excuse me! Kane-sa-- ...Izumi no Kami Kanesada hasn't come this way, has he?”

A strange person wearing an onmyoji hat which obscures their face stands before him. Horikawa's hands move to his waist, and he realizes his sword body is as good as new. (Because it is, literally, good as new.) “...Oh, I'm Horikawa Kunihiro,” he decides to introduce, with a little bow and a bright smile that seems to come naturally amidst his confusion about everything. “I hope to get along with you!”

“Eh? Asking for Kanesada immediately? Jeez, exactly how close have you gotten while I was gone?”

Horikawa recognizes that voice immediately, and he turns his head so quickly he's almost afraid his neck might snap.

Kashuu smiles at him, hands on his hip. “Kashuu Kiyomitsu, assistant sword, at your service. I guess. I'm the assistant this time, huh?”