Archive of Our Own

    It’s funny how staying up late used to be something he looked forward to. Breaking curfew with Sano and Shin had been great. Doing impersonations of jackasses they used to know, Sano’s belly dance, and watching Shinpachi get shot down by the ladies… They had filled the night with endless laugher. No room had been left for the terrible loneliness that wraps its fingers around his throat now. Nobody wakes up at dusk, and falls asleep at dawn. Nobody, expect for furies. And suddenly staying up all night isn’t fun anymore, because he doesn’t wake up surrounded by the warmth of daybreak, or to the breakfast call, or the sounds of Shinpachi’s snoring. Two months. 60 days since he ‘died.’ What he wouldn’t give to be able to go outside during the day, to not be stuck in here where the air constantly smells like blood (which is a big problem when you’re trying to avoid the urge to drink blood). The fury corps put him on edge, despite the fact that he is a fury too. They return every night covered from head to toe in gore. Even Sannan-san looks less and less human each day. Seeing the humanity vanish from those eyes, to be replaced by a nearly feral expression… He shivers. Sannan-san is losing out to the ochimizu. Its stripping away so much of him, but leaving his acute intelligence intact. That makes him even more frightening than the others who can’t even speak save for, ‘blood’ and various inhuman screams and cries. Yes, Sannan-san is changing rapidly, and Heisuke isn’t sure whether it’s because he is willing to be a fury, or if he’s being dragged away by the half demon creature he’s become. Neither is good. And insanity is the end of the line in both cases. Still he selfishly hopes that it’s the former, because that means madness isn’t necessarily inevitable. That there is a chance that rage will not riddle holes into his mind until there’s nothing but a shell seeking survival from the death of others left. The bloodlust sometimes reminds him of trying to look at the surface while under water. You can see, but everything is distorted. You can hear sound, but distinct words are lost to you. And you can resurface, or you may drown…

    Thinking positively is more of a challenge than it used to be, without his friends around to lift his spirits. But he tries anyway because it’s his own damn decisions that got him into this mess, and he’s got to live with them now. And it’s not as though the ochimizu comes with absolutely no benefits... He’s faster and stronger now. And someone getting a paper cut might make him lose it. His wounds heal instantly.While he watches comrades fall from injuries he survives. He is better able to protect Chizuru. If Kazama doesn’t kill him for being a ‘fake’ first. He can- This isn’t working, so he tries to focus on what hasn’t changed instead. Hajime-kun still loves tofu, Hijikata-san still needs to learn how to take a break every once in a while. Shin and Sano are still his best friends, and Chizuru still cares for him. But they- they all still have the sun. They still have each other. And their futures are uncertain like his, but at least there’s hope of brightness for them. He’s not bitter, honestly. Not about that anyway. He would never wish this on any of them. Actually, if he had to pick between him or any of the other guys having to take the ochimizu…. He’d take it again. But it’s really hard when they’re all sleeping and he’s here with just Sannan-san and his thoughts. Both are dangerous, and Heisuke’s not sure which he’d rather be alone with.

    Settling on his thoughts seems to be the lesser of the two evils. At least this way he doesn’t have to listen to Sannan-san lecture him about ‘accepting his fury nature.’ Sannan-san still is on his case about what happened at Toba-Fushimi. Saying that he has let Chizuru cloud his mind and will suffer for it. Fighting his instincts would only bring him pain according to the fury corps leader. Heisuke couldn’t disagree more. She had been the only thing to break through all of the insanity of that day. Night? He’s not sure which is which anymore, and trying sorting it out just makes his head hurt. Images of the battle come back in flashes when he least expects it. Memories of cannon balls and bullets falling like hail as he’s trying to go to sleep. Who the hell enjoys using those weapons anyway? Cowardly bastards. Sometimes he thinks he smells gunpowder when he’s in the garden, or thinks he hears a man dying when it’s just a cat in the alleyway. More than once he has frozen in the middle of a meal to spit his food out because he swears he tastes blood on his tongue. Whether this is fury madness, or just the stress of his recent ordeals, he’s not sure.

    Battles are nothing new to him, but Toba-Fushimi hadn’t been an ordinary battle. It had been practically slaughter. No front line, just mass chaos. Not even Hajime-kun had escaped totally unscathed, and that’s saying something. Heisuke was heavily wounded as well, but the poison in his veins knit skin, muscle, and bone back together without even a scar left behind. It had hurt more and more every time he watched his body repair itself. With each bullet or blade that torn into him came the weight of sadness, and a touch of guilt. He’d heard that the men from his division (well it was his, before his funeral marked their need for a new leader) had experienced heavy losses during the daytime. And here he was brushing off the kind of injuries that probably killed a number of them. They’re grieving the loss of comrades after losing their captain, and damn he wishes he could tell them he’s alive. But he shouldn’t be... It’s not natural, and the way Chizuru had reached out to help him before she remembered… His skin is clammy now, as the worst parts of all return to mind. He tries to block these thoughts out, but they slip under and around his defenses. Blood. There had been so much blood. It covered his blade, and hands. Staining him from his headband all the way down his legs. At least he’d served as a sort of shield for keeping the spatter off of Chizuru. Blood on her, whether her own or other’s is wrong. Not that the sensation of wearing someone’s blood was pleasant for him either. Well that was until he became a fury. Before it was just a part of battle. You stomached it as long as you needed to, and then washed it off. Now he’s a fury, and he remembers his skin prickling with excitement every time blood landed on him. Remembers the terror in the eyes of the soldiers around him when his hair and eyes changed color. Any illusions he had had that he was normal had vanished after that battle. Everything went wrong, had been going wrong for weeks. Toba-Fushimi was just the culmination of everything he feared striking him all at once. Day was night, being cover in blood made him feel… good. And oh god, had he wanted to drink it. He almost drank it. So close. He came so close to lapping up the blood of some stranger to feed the fury that was clawing at his mind.

    Chizuru stopped him. He is seriously beginning to doubt her sense of self preservation. Didn’t she realize he hadn’t even recognized her at first? Breath hitches at the thought of looking at Chizuru without seeing her. Everyone around him had been faceless bodies, sources of nourishment. Sanity fell away to be replaced by a hideous drive to murder. And she had grabbed onto him anyway, trying to hold all the cracks splitting him apart together. Baka... She had squeezed him tighter, and tighter all while trying to pull his arm away from his face. He didn’t even trust himself, and yet she still believed he wasn’t capable of hurting her. Wasn’t capable of being the same as the monsters she’d seen. Anger was his initial reaction. He’d almost batted her away, before something clicked together and sickening realization had dawned on him. Blues, browns, greens, grays all returned so that red was no longer all he saw. And there in the center of it all was Chizuru. He couldn’t hurt her. Even in the midst of bloodlust, some deeper part of himself had recognized her and used that familiarity to pull him free. Still his stomach clenches, and his chest feels both hollow, and full of regret. If he had struck her… He lowers his head toward his knees, as he begins to feel light-headed. Pressing his forehead against his legs until he can feel the dizziness subside. These feelings are good, though. He should be repulsed by what he nearly did. Humans don’t drink blood. That has become his mantra of sorts. Chizuru, she- She’d called him human. Looked him in the eyes while he was breaking apart, and told him he was still human. She believed those words she spoke wholeheartedly. It’s hard to doubt someone who literally risked getting torn to ribbons to stop you from doing something you’d never forgive yourself for. Shattered pieces of a smile try to arrange themselves on his face, but they don’t quite fit together and keep sliding away. If it weren’t for her seemingly unshakable faith in him… He would probably be out with ‘hunting’ with the other furies. He would see Sannan-san’s eyes in his mirror, and would he even care anymore? One of the furies down the hall cackles and screeches. His whole body jerks, shoulders rounding up in a defensive posture. Fingers curl into his palms until he’s surely leaving marks that would bleed if not for his healing abilities. He wants to cover his ears, but locks his arms at his sides instead. He won’t let himself block out the horrid sounds, because he can never allow himself to become that. Sometimes he’ll test his own sanity this way. As long as the cries of the other furies cause the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up, and his muscles to go ridged, he’s alright. For now. But how long does he have? How long can he continue to stay human when the very fact that he’s still here, still breathing, says that he isn’t?

    A soft knocking on his door brings his self-loathing to a halt. Chizuru. It has to be. None of the guys would be so hesitant, or gentle. Sano and Shin practically broke his door down last time they visited… Because waking him up at the crack of dusk was apparently hysterical to them. Drunken idiots. He won’t mention the way he’d nearly tackled them in relief.

    “Heisuke?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s strong enough to scatter the shadows that surround him.

    “Come on in, Chizuru!” Keeping the shakiness from his voice is easy. He’s had a lot of practice by now. Don’t worry about me. Worrying about me means there’s something wrong with me.

    Smiling for her is easy too. Loneliness and doubt don’t belong in the light, and they yield to her instantly. Chizuru smiles back at him, but her eyes are full of concern, empathy, and heaps of compassion. She can tell it’s been a bad day. He’s had them with increasing frequency since Toba-Fushimi. It’s really fucking hard to feel so isolated. Outside of Chizuru, and the rare visits from the other guys he is completely alone. It’s like back in Ise, only worse. Because now there is a really good reason for him being locked away from everyone. Part of him wants them to stay away, because he could never forgive himself if hurt any of them. A larger part of him still wishes for their company almost every day. Hell, he’s dead to all but a handful of people anyway. And that leaves him cold, and troubled. He has grappled with human vs inhuman, but there is a something even more concerning. Is he alive or dead? You can’t be both. That’s just a basic law of nature, but he’s in some weird twilight zone and thank god Chizuru’s here. Come to think of it… Sannan-san hadn’t alerted him to her arrival. Which means she’d come to this part of castle all by herself. He’s about to scold her for being so reckless, before realization gags him. Sannan-san’s half-smile appears in his mind. The thought of Sannan-san alone with Chizuru shoots frigid panic through him, running from his heart out to every capillary. The memory of the battered and broken body of a young girl grabs onto him with bruising force, and demands that he remember her. Remember her fate. Entirely too many cuts carved into her flesh, in half circles that looked like gruesome smiles. The furies are hard to control, but he’s had his suspicions that Sannan-san is killing for the sake of blood and allows the corps to do the same. Going out night after night, to report any suspicious killings to Hijikata has been exhausting in both mind and body. Every single lifeless face appears behind his eyelids. He wonders about their names, their families, who would find them in that state... Did they see it coming, or was it a surprise attack? What were they thinking before they were ripped apart by demons in human skin?

    “Are you feeling ok, Heisuke? You look pale.”

    “I’m alright! I just don’t get much sun, anymore. Hard to get color from the moon.” His voice isn’t as steady as he’d hoped. “What about you? Are the others doing alright?” An obvious attempt to turn the attention off of himself.

    “You can tell me, you know.” She won’t let him get away with it.

    He offers her a lopsided grin instead of what she’s really asking for. Doesn’t she understand that he’s trying to protect her? At Aburano Kouji he had sworn to fight for her, to keep her safe. And she’s making that really difficult when she’s asking him to open up about that. He’ll try to keep the door to those thoughts closed, the same way he used to keep the door to his room closed when his mother was expecting him to have cleaned. He never wanted his mom to see his mess. He doesn’t want Chizuru to him as a mess. And he is afraid of giving voice to the toxic contents of his mind, because dragging her down with him is the last thing he wants to do. So he’ll continue hoping that she’ll let this drop. Take the damn bait, and be happy. He’s offering her a way out. A free pass to escape from the trap he’s been ensnared in. Sano and Shin are more than willing to accept his smiles, and teasing. They hardly ever push for any more than what he offers. It’s easier for everyone that way. Trying to square his shoulders is harder than he thought it would be. Putting on an air of confidence shouldn’t feel so empty. So transparent. Once he had considered pushing her away for her own good… That idea was scrapped almost instantly. He’s terrible at that kind of thing. Lying is difficult for him, and lying with the intention of getting someone to leave him is even more foreign. After so much of his childhood was spent trying to fit in, pushing people out was completely counter-intuitive. He probably could have asked Souji for some tips, at risk of relentless teasing and questioning. But he would have never been able follow through anyway. Not when she untangles the ache and longing knotted inside him. Loosening it until he can breathe again. It’s also not just up to him. She wants to be here. After everything, she had asked him to let her stay with him. If they both want this, then why not?

    Chizuru’s watching him, and oh shit, is she still waiting on him to talk? “It’s all fine. There’s nothing to worry ab-“

    “Please don’t!” He’s not entirely sure how someone can look as though they’re pleading, and about to smack him upside the head at the same time. But Chizuru’s doing it right now, color him impressed. “Don’t pretend that you’re not hurting for my sake. You looked like a ghost when I came in.” Well damn.

    “You don’t need to see this. It’s bad enough you had to stop me from-“ he can’t say it. His throat constricts around the words, until he’s forced to skip them entirely. “I just want to keep you safe. Yeah there’s a lot of stuff in my head, but let me worry about that. Just having you here is enough.”

    “You’re always doing things for my sake. I want to do something for you.” There’s stability and steadiness in her voice, doesn’t she see that she’s already done so much? But if she insists on doing more… He reaches for her hand, and she meets him half way. Just like she always has. Eyes slip closed and he focuses on the way her hand feels wrapped up in his. His thumb runs over each of her knuckles, tracing the rises and dips. Her grip tightens until her finger tips are pressing into the bones of the back of hand. It’s bordering on painful, and he can feel her frustration at him in each pressure point her nails create. But that in and of itself is kind of nice. Her frustration stems from a place of concern, and he’s no stranger to that. It’s those same feelings that made him unsure whether to shake her or hug her when her sleep deprived face was the first thing he woke up to after drinking the ochimizu those months ago. He opens his eyes just so that he can see surprise brighten her expression when he tugs her down to lie next to him. Surprise gives way to a gentle smile. That smile… It throws a soft light that he thinks could be his own personal sunrise. It does funny things to his head, and he’s pulling her nearer and nearer until she’s pressed against his side. Perhaps the most remarkable part is that she lets him. His ribs ache from the amount of joy that knocks around inside him when she snuggles in closer still.

    “Are you comfortable?” The question goes deeper than if the blankets are soft enough, or if his arm makes a decent pillow.

    “Yes, this is nice.” Her hands trail across his body. One traces his shoulder blades in calming circles, coaxing knotted muscles into relaxation. The other brushes across his face, so lightly it might have been imagined if not for the tingling sensation that lingers for several seconds after.

     He’s not sure how she does it. How she can be so completely accepting of what he has struggled to swallow, but can’t seem to keep down. He has gagged on what the ochimizu has done to him until his throat is torn so raw that he can’t speak his fears. He can’t look at his own hands without seeing blood, and gore, and death. Yet she lets him hold her as if she doesn’t even see it. Or maybe she does, and she just doesn’t care. There are a thousand reasons for her to be afraid of him. But Chizuru is brave, and he wants to understand. Understand how she can still look at him and see the same Heisuke he’s always been. He wants to learn how she does it, so that he can do the same. So that he can believe Sano and Shin when they say he’s the same idiot he’s always been. So that he can stop trying to find disgust (that isn’t there) in Hajime and Souji’s eyes. He cares so much about others, but he has got to relearn how to be kind to himself. Somewhere along the way, he stumbled into this downward spiral and he’s looking at the way out.

    “Chizuru, can I ask you something?”

    “Of course! Please, I’ll help you in any way I can.” There is no hesitation in her response, but he is hesitant to ask.

     “Aren’t you afraid of me?” Damn it. He can barely choke the words out, and there’s still more to say. “It would be ok if you were. I wouldn’t be mad.” I’m afraid of me.

    She’s caught off guard momentarily, before his words register. Regret begins to pour into him when she looks as though she might cry. Dealing with crying girls is definitely more Sano’s thing, and he’s made her sad enough without adding this to the list. Studying her face brings clarity though. The arches of her knit brows, the tightness surrounding her mouth, and the way her eyes are both soft and full of jagged pieces of sorrow… Sucking in a shuddering breath does little to calm his nerves as he realizes she’s not hurt by his question so much as she’s hurting for him. This kind of guilt is abrasive, and it’s grinding away the walls he’s put up. There’s no hiding now, is there? No running from the way Chizuru is looking right through him as though he were made of spun glass. And maybe that’s not so inaccurate, because he feels as though he might shatter. Were that to be the case he prays Chizuru won’t slice herself, on what’s left of him.

    “Heisuke…” She swallows thickly. He’s not the only one who is finding it difficult to speak. “No, I- I’m not afraid of you.” Vaguely she looks as though she wants to say more, but knows words alone won’t convince him. When she takes his hand, he’s not expecting her to place it against her ribs. He’s snapped a man’s ribs more than once, and fears doing the same to Chizuru’s by mistake. It’s stupid. He knows he’s in control of himself right now, but there’s just no guarantee that he won’t- Oh. Amazed. That’s the word he’s looking for when she presses his hand to her even harder, and he can feel her breath moving beneath his palm. Chizuru guides his other hand to her neck, right over her pulse. He tries to jerk back, but she doesn’t let him. He’s holding his breath, and waiting. Her pulse is beating against his fingers, and there is blood right below his touch. He’s expecting bloodlust, but the usual signs are nowhere to be found. No ravenous hunger, no burning throat, or muscle spasms. No inversion of light and dark, no agony shredding his guts in protest of each second he denies himself blood. Did Chizuru know he wouldn’t react the way he feared he would? Or was it blind trust? Either way he can’t stop the soft laughter that seems perfectly out of place. Laughing takes up space, and begins to crowd bitterness and grief into a corner. It also creates room for happiness, and draws a smile from Chizuru. She releases his wrists. This is permission, no, encouragement. He’ll learn. Relearn himself by learning more about her, because she has wrapped all the best parts of him up in herself for safekeeping. Chizuru sharpens his senses, but not in the distinctly predatory way his fury powers do. When her head rests on his chest, he’s acutely aware of her breath ghosting over his skin where yukata has slipped open a bit. Each inhale and exhale comes in a constant rhythm. There is no quickening, or shallowness to indicate unease. Her muscles are relaxed under his hands, and brown eyes are open and trusting.

    “I’m not afraid of you.” A small sigh interrupts her when his fingers slide against the base of her skull, tangling into her hair. “But do you believe me?”

    That question is more complicated than it should be, because he does believe her. He has no reason not to. Of all of the many things Chizuru is, honest has always been at the forefront. She has never been the problem. The issue stems from him struggling to trust his own feelings. Lately his thoughts and emotions have been running off in all different directions, and trying to chase them leaves him disorientated. He believes her, but he doesn’t believe in himself believing in her? That makes absolutely no sense. And it’s pretty ridiculous to boot. So he’ll take the holes his doubt has left in him, and stuff them full of Chizuru’s unwavering faith. There’s nothing to question here. She has done nothing to show fear of him. Fear of him going mad, yes. Fear of the pain the bloodlust causes him, yes. Fear of him giving up on himself, yes. Fear of him, never.Those things she concerns herself with are not intrinsically a part of him, and this is where he needs to learn to draw a line in the sand between ochimizu and Heisuke. Sannan-san failed to do so, and look where it led him. Maybe he will become more powerful than Heisuke could ever hope to be from drinking blood. But there is more than one type of strength, and Sannan-san’s is both false and fleeting. With each life he takes for the sake of blood, another piece of his mind decays. And someday he will be left with nothing but a pile of bodies in his shadow. What good is that? If you need to sacrifice everything you once stood for to win, victory becomes hollow. So hollow that it crumbles when you grasp it seeking validation, leaving you with nothing but dust and ash.

    Chizuru, he thinks, is very strong in her own right. He may be holding her in his arms, but it’s her who’s holding him together. She has this capacity for empathy that seems to have no end. She feels his pain as if it were her own, and yet she will not break. Because Chizuru is also support. Helping him to tear down fear, and grief, and bitterness. Giving him a stable structure to rebuild himself on. He’s not sure exactly where everything goes, his blueprint is blurred by tears and blood. But she’ll help him. She’ll hold up these heavy things until he can figure out where to place them. Cupping her cheek allows him to guide her to where the moonlight hits her face just right, and he can trace every detail of her with his fingers and eyes. He drags his finger tips from the soft curve of her cheek, down her jaw line, to her lips. It’s all so familiar. The moon looks like the sun to him, but she is still the same whether in daylight or moonlight. Whether she’s bathed in light, or veiled in shadows she still makes his heart flutter, and that stupid fuzzy feeling wraps around his head when he makes her laugh. If Chizuru is unchanging in darkness or light, it stands to reason that the same must be true for other things as well. Must be true for him too.

    “Hey Chizuru. I believe you.”

    “Hmm? Oh!” She’d obviously assumed he wasn’t going to answer her earlier question. She would have let him leave it unanswered. Chizuru knows when to push, and when to let him come around on his own. “I’m glad, Heisuke.”

    Her sincerity is one of the many things he’s grown to admire about her. Many times people say I’m happy for you, or I’m glad more out of obligation than anything else. But when Chizuru says it she means it. When she smiles along with him, she draws tenderness and life from their shared contentment and shines it back on him. He stretches toward that warmth, and tucks her into him so that nothing but their clothes separate them. It’s still not close enough. She is owed something more than this for everything she’s done for him over the past weeks, days, and hours. Perhaps the drowsiness that comes with the approaching dawn has lulled his inhibitions, and maybe he should rethink this… But he needs to answer her, and trying to string syllables together is useless when they all slip back down his throat to escape their inadequacy. Words might be fleeing from him, but there are other ways to communicate. He has together, gratitude, and love on his lips when he presses them against hers. She shivers and accepts the gift, giving always, steadfast, and cherished in return. Above all else though, she tastes like life. He runs his tongue across her lips picking up on the bitter flavor of concern, the sweetness of laughter, and the spice of battles fought. He’s chasing everything he’s missed while living in the dark, and Chizuru is more than happy to oblige. She has a fist full of his yukata, and his hair is woven through her fingers. Definitely not scared of him. Heisuke gives her lip one last playful nip, before pulling away. He’s probably got that silly smile on his face, but Chizuru isn’t doing much better.

    Pale orange is tapping on his door to deliver the sleepiness of sunrise. Sunrise… Chizuru should get going. Hijikata-san is going to need his tea, and the guys are probably banking on her making breakfast (because if he remembers correctly it’s Souji and Hajime-kun’s turn for kitchen duty, and Souji’s cooking is not what anyone wants to start their day with). There’s also Chizuru’s reputation to consider, although somehow spending the day in his bed seems inherently less scandalous than night even though his activities during those time periods are backwards. He shoves that thought aside. It’s not his place to keep her here, to keep her from her duties (both those imposed by Hijikata-san and those she requires of herself). But damn is it hard to deny himself the one thing that has made this whole ordeal bearable. It only gets worse when she’s visibly confused by him untangling their limbs. It seems like she’s lost track of what time it is. He wishes he had that same luxury, instead time seems to be stalking him. Standing a few paces behind to remind him that he is a slave to it. Waking hours for everyone else means terrible migraines, nausea, and a whole slew of agonizing symptoms for him should he try to go outside. And nighttime was such a vast improvement with his roommates from hell going out on murdering sprees, and bringing the temptation of blood back with them… There isn’t much room for joy in the existence of a fury, but Chizuru has given that back to him. And now he needs to give her back to morning.

    “Chizuru, it’s dawn.” He yawns. “As much as I’d love to keep you here, you should probably get going. The guys will be worried if you’re not in your room.”

    “Will you be ok?” Really he doesn’t know whether he wants to kiss her again, or scream. Her concern for him is both agonizing, and revitalizing.

    “I’ll be fine. It’s about time for me to get to sleep anyway.” He offers her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Sleeping hasn’t been a particularly restorative activity lately, but higher the sun gets the deeper he wants to sink into his blankets.

     Now she’ll go, and he’ll cringe at the sunlight that welcomes her back into the land of the living. Or at least that’s what he’s expecting. “I’d like to stay with you.”

    Those words again. They’ve passed them back and forth several times now. Staying. Staying with each other, although neither of them have actually hammered out a time frame on their togetherness. There are too many variables in this line of work even without the fury factor, and he can’t promise her much. But he’ll give her as much time as he has left, as much time as she’s willing to spend on him. “I already said you could stay with me, Chizuru. But for now you’ve got to head back.”

    “No, I mean I want to stay here.” Oh. Here, as in his bed.

     He swallows. That determination of hers is really coming back to bite him. He’s trying so very hard to do the right thing, and she has to go and pull shit like this. Giving in wouldn’t be difficult. Why wouldn’t he want to let her stick around when her presence is one of the only things that helps to remind him why he was so desperate to live that he would sacrifice his humanity. Regret has festered inside him since his decision. This kind of life, is arguably not much of a life at all. But sometimes he sees flashes of his old life, and maybe if he collects them all he can make a new light. It’s kind of like how some of the kids in town put fireflies in a jar. One alone isn’t very bright, but get enough of them together and they could revival a lamp. If he lets her stay, he can add this moment to all her other visits, to Hijikata-san checking up on him, and to Sano and Shinpachi stopping by to play drinking games… He might be getting close to filling his jar, and maybe it will be bright enough to keep torment and fear away. But if he lets her stay, then he’s putting her at risk. Daytime might mean nap time, but he still doesn’t trust the furies as far as he can spit. Sannan-san has been trying to figure out how to reverse some of the negative side effects of the ochimizu, and Heisuke’s pretty sure he’s heard him mumbling about demon blood. Really he could compose a list a mile long of reasons she definitely should not be here for an extended period of time. Especially not while he’s sleeping, while he’s less alert. But it’s really hard to keep telling her to go when she looks so comfortable beside him.

    “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

    “I miss you.” Her hand finds a resting place against the side of his neck, thumb trailing along his jaw line. “I don’t get to see you as much since…” Aburano Kouji? The ochimizu? Both are painful. They’ve left pieces of broken glass in his memories that he can’t seem to stop cutting himself on.

    “I miss you too.” He thinks there might actually be some color on his face now. He’s normally pretty confident saying whatever’s on his mind, but this kind of thing is just a bit embarrassing. At least a blush must look better than the sheer whiteness he wore when she first arrived. Even the color white has changed for him, isn’t that pathetic? Instead of snowball fights and the stack of papers Hijikata-san is always grumbling about, he sees white hair where there should be brown… And skin devoid of any color, blood gone from horrific wounds. Damn the fury corps, damn the ochimizu, damn it all to hell. Can he really not even have something as simple as colors stay the same? Is that really asking too much? No. Nope. Not going there right now. Chizuru is more important. She has always been more important than whatever bullshit is clogging up his mind. He’ll work on defusing his volatile thoughts later, for now Chizuru needs his attention. He gives negotiating a try. “You can come back tomorrow night if you want- Actually, I have to patrol then… But the night after is alright. I’ll be house sitting while Sannan-san goes out.” And by house sitting, I mean making sure no stray furies come back from patrol early to wreak havoc.

    “Heisuke, I’m staying.” He opens his mouth to argue, but Chizuru is done discussing it. “The others are all really worried about you. I’ve been worried about you.”

    “Fine.” He flops back down onto the futon, shaking his head. With her jaw set like that, and her eyes staring defiantly into his… He doesn’t stand a chance. “I know when I’m beat.”

    They all have more important things to worry about than him, but if she’s so insistent who is he to stop her? He of all people, knows the value of choosing to do something you truly believe in. With any luck Chizuru’s decisions won’t make her life as much of a colossal mess as he’s turned his into. Chizuru’s done a lot of crazy stuff herself. Dressing up as a man to find her father, befriending the men of the Shinsengumi, cuddling with a fury... But somehow it all seems to work for her. He’s not saying that it’s never difficult, or that she doesn’t feel pain or anxiety. She does. But Chizuru always seems to come out on top, no matter how deep her choices drag her. So maybe it will be ok, they’ll be ok. If nothing else, having her here is soothing. The rising sun exhausts him, but sometimes his mind and his fury body argue and sleep doesn’t come easily. But with Chizuru’s hand curled up in his, and the steadiness of her breathing as sleep creeps up on her, he doesn’t think he’ll be awake much longer. Falling asleep next to someone is something he rarely gets to do. Rarer still to do it without the influence of alcohol. And when he falls asleep with Sano and Shin they all tend to be in some sort of tangled up pile, and he can’t really remember much of what happened anyway. But this, this is different. There’s a vulnerability. He’s allowing her to see him with all of his defenses lowered. Allowing her to see him as someone who needs rest, who needs comfort. And Chizuru has always been open with him, but there’s something especially thrilling about her trusting him enough to sleep beside her. The trust of those he cares about is something so very valuable to him, and he has feared he is not worthy of it as a fury. How can they depend on him when bad decision, after bad decision has lead him to the point of becoming a monster? Still Chizuru makes him feel like he is enough. As though even with all of his faults and insecurities he is enough. Free from having to try harder for her, but wanting to anyway. Her free hand is tracing patterns on his arm that create a map towards sleep that he is all too willing to follow. He wants to reciprocate but his limbs are all dead weight. Chizuru looks pretty tired as well, which is strange seeing as it’s daytime. But between him, Souji’s illness, and the low morale of the guys after Toba-Fushimi she’s probably been running herself ragged with worry.

    “Thank you, Heisuke.” For letting her stay? He should be thanking her instead, for everything, but he’s too far gone to get the words from his brain to his mouth. He doesn’t get farther than squeezing her hand before he’s finally asleep.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

    When his fury side takes over it feels like he’s being submerged in boiling water. Scalding him until his human skin melts away to expose a monster. Surrounding him in bubbling madness that burns his eyes until they glow red. Filling his mouth when he tries to scream for help so that nobody can hear him. He’s dragged down, and down despite his increasingly frantic struggling. Something snaps and his whole body goes limp. When he regains his ability of motion, there is a distinctly animalistic quality about it. It’s like an out of body experience in the way he feels as though he is not in control of his actions, and yet he’s also caged in his own body. Trapped inside and forced to watch himself cut down opponent after opponent. He doesn’t even see their faces, doesn’t even know why he’s fighting. The only thing that catches his attention is how it feels to drive his blade through flesh and muscle. How it feels to pull against the suction of blood and tendons that try to keep his sword in place to block closed the wounds he creates. For every one he kills another two appear, and it seems like he won’t ever stop fighting. He laughs, but the sound is distorted by the awful growling of a fury’s voice. This is his life isn’t it? Constant fighting. Fighting himself, fighting insanity, fighting others. He’s taken a few hits now. Pain grazes the surface of his awareness, and he’s healing… But there are so god damn many, one is bound to get in a blade clean through his heart or neck sooner or later.

    But maybe he’s not meant to die just yet. In a flurry of pale blue and silver his opponents are dropping dead, and he’s not the one doing it. “Sano! Shinpachi!”

    Relief allows him to break the surface of his scorching lake, and take a breath of fresh air. He’ll be ok now. They’ll take him home, he’ll take his medicine for the bloodlust, it will be fine. Heisuke stumbles his way toward the two of them. Maybe Sano will let him ride on his back on the way home. His legs are particularly wobbly, and his head is still spinning, but he picks up his pace anyway. They are safety, trust, and friendship. All the things he desperately needs, and they’re willing to give. He’s expecting Sano to ruffle his hair and Shin to offer him a shoulder to support himself on. He’s expecting kindness hidden under a veil of teasing, and definitely not the blade that comes swinging inches from his face. Spinning away from Shinpachi’s sword sends him staring down the length of Sano’s spear rushing toward his chest. There’s no time to dodge properly. He throws himself on the ground, belly flat against the earth. The scrapes on his elbows don’t sting nearly as bad as the hatred in their eyes. The dirt in his teeth tastes far better than betrayal he’s feeling when the other members of the Shinsengumi begin to round on him.

    “What’s going on?”

     “Look what you’ve done, Heisuke!” It cuts him cold. Sanosuke has never used that tone on him before. There is none of the brotherly affection, or steady comfort he’s used to. Hell, he’s not even sure he’s heard Sano speak to an enemy this way.

     “You’re a monster, we have no choice.” Shinpachi is going after him with every intention of killing him. His blade barely comes up to block in time, and there is no rest for the weary when Sano’s spear comes sailing at his neck from the other side. Throwing his arm up is his only defense from the second attack, and the spear slices until it kisses his bone. How can his two best friends be trying to murder him? His mind sprints from memory to memory trying to recall anything he’s done to deserve this. To deserve them trying to put him down like an animal. He’s drawing a blank, and there must be some misunderstanding.

    “Please! What did I do?! Hold on a- hnn” A sword cuts into his back with blinding speed. That iai is killer. This wound would absolutely be fatal if he were still human. Heisuke’s never seen so much of his own blood, and his stomach is threatening to empty itself. He fights it down. He will not die in pool of blood and vomit, he has more dignity than that. As much dignity as one can manage scrambling around on the ground anyway… More importantly, Answers. He wants someone to answer him. If they’re going to kill him, it would be great if someone could at least tell him why. “Hajime-kun, why are you doing this?”

    “It’s cute that you think we’ll let you live.” Souji has that menacing look on his face, where his normal humor is sharpened into something far more dangerous. Heisuke gets his feet under him in just enough time to guard against Souji’s swing. There’s apparently going to be no talking about this. The bonds that tied them all together are severed, just like his head will be if he doesn’t get the hell out of here. Running is the only option. He ran from Ise, and now he’ll run from Shinsengumi too. He senses a pattern, but he can’t fight them. Because even if they hate him, even if they want to get rid of him… They’re still his friends. And maybe he’s reached a new level of pathetic to cling onto friendship when his life is in imminent danger from the people he cares about… But they have been everything to him for years, and that means more to him than whatever judgment they’ve passed. Means enough to him that all he’s done is guard, and try to escape. Fleeing seems like a good idea in theory, but Kondo-san cuts off his exit route and he’s utterly trapped.

    Hijikata-san stalks toward him. He’s convinced that Hijikata-san really could be a demon, and tries backing away until he falls on his ass, “Heisuke, accept your punishment.”

    Accept it, huh? If they all believe he needs to die, if they all believe that ending his life is the right path for the Shinsengumi… Then there’s nothing he can do, is there? Even if he could get away, it wouldn’t do him any good. These guys, Chizuru, and his own beliefs are all he has to live for anyway. Chizuru. He wonders if she knows what’s going on. And if she knows, is she sad? Will she cry for him, or has she grown to hate him too? Her hating him hurts worse than any of the wounds he’s received. He doesn’t know what wrong he’s committed, but if it’s enough to turn the guys on him… Then it’s only logical to assume it would be enough for Chizuru, who’s known him a far shorter time, to turn on him as well. That thought bleeds out the last bits of his resistance, but not the last of his fear. When Hijikata-san finally surges forward, he throws his arms up and over his eyes. He doesn’t want to see it coming, but he’s left his heart and neck exposed. Two ways to kill a fury, take your pick Hijikata-san.

    Something warm splatters against his face and arms, but the pain never comes. This isn’t right. Dying is definitely supposed to hurt, even if it’s briefly. Heisuke considers himself a little more knowledgeable about what dying feels like than most, after Amagiri had pretty much collapsed his chest with one punch… When his arms finally get out of the way of his eyes, there’s a sword glinting in front of him. But it’s sticking out of Hijikata-san’s shoulder from behind. The sword twists, Hijikata-san curls forward in pain. Sannan-san stands behind their Oni vice commander like a murderous shadow. He’s brought his friends too, furies begin to pour in to attack the guys. They attack the others but leave him alone. What’s going on? This is wrong. This is terribly wrong. Hijikata-san groans when Sannan-san yanks his sword out, only to press it against his neck. Heisuke was supposed to die, not Hijikata-san, not the others!

    “Sannan-san stop!” Nobody hears him. He has fallen back in the lake, only this time it’s frigid. “Stop! Stop it! STOP!”

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

    “Heisuke! Heisuke, wake up!” His eyes snap open at the sound of a frantic voice. Chizuru? It takes him several blinks to get her image to come into focus. She’s looking down at him with terror that’s just starting yield to relief. The real world cradles him now. Uncomfortable things like his cold sweat, and clinging blankets provide solace. It was just that dream again. Only this time he didn’t have to see it all the way to the end. Didn’t have to see Sano’s guts outside his body, or Shin with a sword through his heart. Didn’t have to witness Souji’s life come to a sputtering end from a chest wound, or Hajime-kun being snuffed out by blade through the back. Didn’t have to see Hijikata-san losing his head. Chizuru sparred him that agony. She really is too good to him. His mind has emerged from the nightmare, but his body isn’t quite convinced of his safety yet. He’s trembling, and his pulse has taken off at a speed a race horse would be envious of. Still this is nothing compared to how bad waking from this nightmare normally is. When he’s all alone, and he has to figure out how to put reality back together when it’s his own mind that shattered it in the first place.

    “Are you alright? That was some nightmare.” Chizuru brushes his sticky bangs off of his forehead. “You would were shaking so badly I was afraid something was really wrong.”

    “Nah. It’s just a stupid dream I’ve had a couple of times now.” His lips make several attempts at forming a smile, before he thinks he’s got something passable on his face.

    “It wasn’t stupid, Heisuke. I have never seen someone react so violently to a dream.” Is he ever going to stop making her worry? He won’t tell her how the first time it happened, he’d spent the next couple of hours throwing up. Or how the second time it happened, he had forced himself to stay awake for two days straight because he sees enough death while he’s awake without it finding him in his sleep as well. Chizuru’s hand lingers on his forehead, and he’s thankful for her touch. For the way it pins him back down, keeps him from being swept away. “Do you want to tell me what it was about? My father used to say that talking about nightmares made them less frightening.”

    “No! I don’t-“ Eyes squeeze shut, before opening again. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just, I want…” There aren’t words for what exactly it is that he wants. So he reaches out for her instead, tugging her down to him. Wrapping her up in his limbs, until he’s certain that he has as much of them touching as possible. Chizuru is soft and yielding on the surface but there is strength, and fire underneath it all. He’s probably holding her too tightly, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her arms wrap around him as well. She’s shaking. Had she really been that afraid for him? Apparently so, because she presses one palm over his chest and just holds it there for several seconds. I’m alive, Chizuru. It’s alright.

    “Your heart is still racing.” Fingers rub careful circles until the thumping in his chest begins to quiet. Slower, but not quite back to normal. Not when he’s got her toes brushing up and down his calf, and her hip bone locking against his. Not when she’s holding him as though she wants to take all his pain and split it between the two of them, because it’s easier to share it than it is to bare something so heavy alone. There’s room to return the favor. He needs her to know that this isn’t one-sided. Sure he will take comfort, but he can give it as well. It doesn’t matter how much of his life crumbles around him, he will always be strong enough to clear a path through the rubble for Chizuru to come to him with her fears, her pain, her hopes. He’s almost certain that he loves her. These feelings are just one of the many things he has been unpacking since Aburano Kouji. Pulling bits and pieces out of himself, turning them over and over in his mind until they become polished into clear thoughts. There’s a little farther to go before he’s ready to tell her something like that. This is complicated stuff, and he’s been such a mess lately… He needs to be absolutely certain, Chizuru deserves that much and more. But there is no question that he is happier when he’s with her, and he doesn’t care what they’re doing so long as they’re together. Although, he will admit that he could get used to having her here like this. Maybe… Maybe if he survives this war that won’t be so far fetched. But the future is too flighty, too vague, too intangible. And he’s learning that the past is unyielding, and no amounting of throwing yourself at it will reopen that locked door. So he’ll dump every bit of his attention into this moment.

    He spreads his hand out on her stomach, and rubs slow calming motions. His mom used to do this for him when he would become so anxious that his guts would twist together in nauseous waves. Her skin is soft under his touch, and he can’t decide if this is more pleasant for him or her. But he’s trying. Trying to share with Chizuru something that had soothed him when he was a child. He wants her to know him, know his past. But it’s hard to talk about his old domain without feeling as though he’s going back into a burned out building. Hard to sort through all the ash, and still hot coals to find all the things that survived the fire he had set. All the things worth giving away. Touch serves his purposes much better. He can tell her how much he loves laughing with her by tickling her side. Can show her how much he enjoys listening to her talk about herself, her interests, her past, anything really, by tracing her lips with his ring finger. Reminds her that he’s grateful for all the times she’s listened to him spill his guts about things he wouldn’t be caught dead telling the guys when he blows on her ear. Chizuru is a quick learner, and it’s not long before she’s writing her own replies against his skin. Her hand slides up his arm leaving a pleasant shiver in its wake. When she reaches his shoulder she curls her finger tips into his muscles. He sighs, as she repeats that motion a few times helping him to shed lingering tension and replace it with serenity. A knee presses gently against his thigh promising him that she won’t run from him. Her index finger skims along his brow bone, before tracing along the outside of his eye. This is a very delicate area, but he doesn’t flinch. She’s reminding him that she has always seen the good in him.

    Moving to lay his head against her chest might be pushing it just a bit. But she indulges him, cradling the back of his head. Her heart is right below his ear, the steadying beating is comfort in its rawest form. A heart beat is always indicative of life. So long as the heart is beating, there is a spark in the eyes, a warmth to the skin. Chizuru is alive. She is more than alive, she is living. There is a difference, Heisuke has come to realize this. The furies down the hall, they are alive. Their hearts beat, they eat, sleep, and bleed. But they don’t live. She shares her thoughts, and listens to those of others. Finds happiness doing things that are not extrinsically rewarding. Has things worth crying for, but never lingers too long on sorrow. There are things to do, and people to take care of. Each day she finds something worth living for. Heisuke brushes his lips against her neck, and she shivers. This is a promise. A promise to live. She had said she was happy he was alive even if it meant being a fury. He’ll do better than just exist. Heisuke has lived his life embracing each moment, and wringing everything he can out of every day. And he will get back to that place where he can see the value in every second he breaths. Because he is not like the other furies, not even like Sannan-san. There is too much he has been given to give up now. Furies exist on blood, but he lives for his ideals, for his friends, and now for Chizuru as well. And that is why he’ll be damned if a few setbacks, and bad dreams are all it takes to make him let go of everything. Sannan-san may be willing to set himself ablaze with madness in exchange for power, but Heisuke will not burn with him. If he could, he’d like to save Sannan-san from self-destructing but he has to save himself first. There is too much at stake to risk being dragged under while trying to offer a hand to someone who has already given in. Chizuru didn’t want to see him die no matter what, and had called herself selfish for it. But really it was the kindest gift she’d ever given him. A reason to forgive himself for becoming a fury. A reason to believe that the choices he’d made were not so terrible that he wasn't worthy of his life, or being cared for.

    “Chizuru?”

    “Hmm?” There are tendrils of sleep wrapping around her voice.

    “Thank you. I know I haven’t really been myself lately.” He presses a kiss to her forehead, “But I’m getting better, thanks to you.”

    “You don’t have to thank me.” There’s that smile again. He might be coming around to the idea that he deserves to be happy, but he’s not quite sure he’ll ever know what he did to deserve her. “Just seeing you happy again is enough.”

    “Yeah?” He laughs softly. “That’s awfully sweet of you. I guess I’m pretty lucky guy after all.” The blush paired with her sleepy face is an image he hopes he never forgets.

    Exhaustion and contentment make a great combination for falling asleep. Chizuru is drifting away, and he’s relieved. She needs the rest, hopefully Hijikata-san won’t get after her too badly for sleeping the day away. He’ll take the blame if it comes to that. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time he took the fall for something, but he’s pretty used to Hijikata-san’s punches. They actually don’t even hurt that bad anymore. Either Hijikata-san isn’t hitting him as hard, or he’s lost feeling in his head from the amount of times he gets hit. Maybe it’s his convenient height, but between Shin, Sano, and Hijikata-san his head is a popular target. There is the telltale softening of breath, and eyes slipping closed. Sleep has finally embraced Chizuru. It won’t be long before he follows her, but he wants to spend just a few minutes watching her sleep. This always seemed kind of creepy to him when he was younger. Who the hell wants to sit around, and watch someone sleep? It makes sense now. There’s peace to be gained from watching someone you care for rest. Quiet moments that are perfect for reflecting on how she came into his life, and everything that led them here. What a strange road it has been. Embarrassingly enough he hadn’t even realized she was a girl at first. They’ve come a long way since then. And if life is done kicking him in the teeth, then they will still have a long time left to keep growing together. But those concerns will be there when he wakes up. By now the sun is quite high in the sky, and he has reached his limit. Between his patrolling, his partial break down, and his nightmare, he definitely needs the time to rest and recover. He has been dodging sleep for fear of dreams of the end of his friends, the end of him. He can rest easier now though, because the thought of waking up with Chizuru by his side feels an awful lot like a beginning.