Chapter Text
March 1874
Saito Hajime was a patient man.
He had needed to be. His position within the Shinsengumi demanded restraint as much as skill. While he lacked the fearsome, demonic reputation that had followed Hijikata, the men of his unit understood well enough that beneath his quiet demeanor lay someone capable of ruthless calculation when required.
But he had also been patient in his pursuit of following his heart. His love for Chizuru had initially caught him by surprise, taking root and sprouting before he ever knew she had planted the seed. Once he had realized his feelings in full for her, he had needed to go and spy for the Shinsengumi on Itō Kashitarō and the Guard’s of the Emperor’s Tomb.
Patience then had been painful to practice when all he wanted was to be in the presence of Chizuru’s eyes and smile. She had climbed into his heart and refused to leave, even when her own life had faced peril in Aizu.
Yet even when he scowled at her in worry, he could never truly shake her free. Even if he wanted her safe. He found himself selfish, in that regard.
Besides, being gentle and kind toward Chizuru after she was forced into being held by the Shinsengumi, despite all that he faced both before and after becoming a fury, became his default setting without noticing it. Even when Soji volunteered to kill her that very first day…
Those eyes of hers captivated him.
Yes.
Saito Hajime was a patient man to have endured all that he did.
The triumphs and the tragedy shaped his life until he reached this exact moment, where he stood on the veranda outside of the one room house he shared with Chizuru in Tonami.
Waiting.
Waiting from the morning when Taka-san, the elderly lady next door, arrived hurried after his urgent summons.
Waiting as he paced over the same path on the snow covered grass as the sun rose weakly against the gray sky. The sun did little these days to cause him pain. He paid it little heed as he paced until the snow beneath his path tramped lower and lower compared to the rest of the snow in the yard.
Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
The sounds of the home were difficult to bear. But Taka-san refused to allow him entry when the screams of pain began in earnest shortly after the sun reached the highest point of the winter sky.
He never felt the urge to transform into a fury, but for a split second he was tempted when Taka-san told him sternly to back outside.
”She is fine, Saito-san. The sceams are normal for a mother, whether new or seasoned. Let her to do what her body knows is needed.”
Chizuru had reassured him that birthing complications for demons were minimized due to the healing nature of her body. His mind still conjured up the worst case as her screaming continued.
Patience.
Sometimes he grew tired of being patient.
But at last, before the sun started it’s descent from the sky, the screaming stopped, replaced shortly after by a small yet mighty cry.
A few moments later, his patience was rewarded.
“Saito-san, Chizuru is asking for you,” Taka-san called out into the yard.
He darted inside before the sentence had fully left her mouth.
“Hajime,” Chizuru was sitting up on the futon, a small bundle of cloth pressed against her bare chest. She gave him a tired smile. “Come meet your daughter.”
The elderly midwife stepped around him in the doorway. “Congratulations, Otōsan,” she said, giving him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. “She is healthy and lovely.”
Saito stepped into the room, somehow steady on his feet as he crossed the tatami flooring.
His heart had been hardened after years on the battlefield and settling scores with his sword by command. Chizuru’s love for him had softened it. But the delicate features of the tiny newborn’s face, revealed when Chizuru gently angled the bundle carefully so he could see, were so much like her mother’s as her eyes opened to reveal a mirror of his own, shattered his heart completely.
Saito knew that without hesitation, he would kill again without question if it meant to keep his precious family safe.
“She is beautiful,” he softly said, kneeling beside Chizuru and pressing his hand carefully on the top of their newborn daughter’s head. Soft wisps of black brushed his palm. “Like her Okaasan.”
Chizuru blushed. “She has your eyes, Hajimi.”
“Hmm,” Saito made a non-committal sound of acknowledgement, a tender smile betraying him.
“Would you like to hold her?” Chizuru asked after a few quiet moments of them simply staring at their daughter.
“I’ve never held an infant before,” Saito murmured. “I do not wish to disturb her.”
Chizuru’s perceptiveness had not dulled with the pain and blur of childbirth. She recognized the complicated dance of longing and hesitation in her husband’s eyes.
“I will help you, Hajimi. She’ll recognize that her Otōsan is a person who never hurt her.”
They both knew her father had done that very thing.
Saito lifted his arms, mimicking the way Chizuru had hers arranged. The transfer was smooth from one new parent to the other. Carefully, he adjusted his arms.
“She is so light,” Saito said. “And yet the weight of her importance to me is heavy on my heart already.”
Chizuru smiled as she adjusted her kimono to loosely cover up again before leaning her head against his shoulder and peering down at their daughter, content in Otōsan’s arms. A small huff of air escaped her tiny lips, which made her father chuckle.
“I have an idea for her name,” Saito said, vulnerable. A ridiculous notion, really, considering the length of their marriage and how long they had known each other. “I know that mothers traditionally get to name their daughters, so I do not wish to take that from you.”
Chizuru beamed. “I would love to hear your suggestion, Hajime. I think it’s wonderful you want to have a say; some fathers, after all, are disappointed when it's a daughter first.”
Saito scoffed, his distaste for such men clear on his face. Only weak men obsessed with legacy could ever look at their daughter and feel disappointed. And what was legacy if victors wrote history, anyways? A son could betray his father. Men betrayed each other for so little, after all.
“Do you remember that day, when we stood beneath the cherry blossoms in the courtyard at the temple? Before we had to move. The petals rained gently around us. You kept one of the petals I handed to you.”
“Of course I remember.”
“I never forgot the feeling of my heart beating faster than it did when facing opponents in battlefields, when you revealed that petal to me, and the overwhelming longing to hold you close,” Saito said, meeting the gaze of Chizuru’s soft eyes. “In you, I found another purpose to fight. To live My feelings had been buried for the sake of the Shinsengumi. But with a single blossom, it demanded to be revealed.”
“You never gave that away until my refusal to leave you behind in Aizu,” she murmured in reply. “As expected by the formidable warrior, Saito Hajime.”
“I am glad to be rid of that moniker in exchange for Otōsan,” Saito smiled, his eyes once more softening as they fell upon their daughter. “If you agree, I wish to bestow upon our daughter the name ‘Sakura’ in honor of that memory.”
He would not say it, but it was also a way to honor the fleeting life of the Shinsengumi, nowadays a short footnote in the long history of Japan.
“How could I deny that?” Chizuru said, her eyes filling with tears. “It is a beautiful name, befitting our daughter.”
“Saito Sakura, welcome to our family,” Saito said, his voice low and formal. “I vow to you that so long as I am still breathing, no harm will find its way to you.”
Sakura’s eyes fluttered open as his voice trailed off, her blue eyes wide and serious.
“Oh my, I think she understood you,” Chizuru said, giggling. “I have never seen an infant look so serious before.”
“I hope you smile often, little one,” Saito said. “Leave being serious for your Otōsan and Okaasan.”
Chizuru yawned then. “Do you want me to take her?”
“No, no, she is fine in my arms,” Saito replied. “You should rest, Chizuru. Has the midwife helped you with all that needs to be taken care of after birth?”
“Yes,” Chizuru yawned again. “I will close my eyes only for a few moments. If she fusses, I’ll feed her.”
“Let your Okaasan rest, Sakura-chan,” Saito whispered as Chizuru stretched out on the futon. “She spent several hours in labor to help you greet the world safely. I’m sure you’ll keep us both busy in the years to come. But I promise that no matter the circumstances, I will protect you with my life and never tire of it.”
He had spoken those words to Chizuru once. The resolve he burned with then when he made that vow to her rang clear just the same as he looked at their daughter sleeping in his arms, unaware of the lengths her Otōsan would go to follow it through.
Had gone through, in order to keep her Okaasan safe.
His mind filted to the Shinsengumi.
Of the men who were robbed of their futures.
Robbed of the quiet moments.
Of experiencing the joy of holding their newborn in their arms.
He silently summoned each of them to the forefront of his mind.
Kondo. Hijikata. Sannan. Heisuke. Soji. Sanosuke. Yamazaki.
Then, each and every single one of his men.
With each conjuring of their faces, still crisp in his memory as though he only departed from them yesterday, he introduced them to Sakura and asked for their protection over her.
“She is the most precious thing beside her mother that I have had the honor of having to call my own,” Saito quietly said to the ghosts of the Shinsengumi. “Please. Wherever you are. Help me watch over her.”
He could almost hear the echo of their voices in his ear, swearing that vow as the wind outside whistled past.