Blood Contingency 15

Was I really reassured at some point by my ability to buy macaroni and cheese after thinking about vampires? I underestimated the power of habit, the relentless tendency of the human mind toward normalcy. What I theorized on Wednesday evening — that Sanosuke must consider me strong enough to assimilate the memories of an entire lifetime without going crazy, or else he wouldn’t have restored them — might indeed be true… but in the end, I believe, far more than any strength of spirit I may or may not possess, it was that mundane human resilience in the face of the incomprehensible that helped me through the tumultuous task of integrating my previous incarnation into my awareness of self.

In fact I integrated Hajime — or perhaps I, being Hajime, integrated Joseph — so quickly, I probably could have worked the second half of Thursday. After the tangle of emotions and the migraine and the seemingly unconquerable confusion of Wednesday night, it was startling how rapidly my state improved, how neatly things settled into place in my head, after a fitful few hours of sleep and a cup of strong coffee. By lunchtime I was calm and collected, and relatively equanimous toward the two different identities I now have to work with.

Of course, no matter how shockingly easy it all turned out to be — and it is a shock every single time I consider how simply I’ve adjusted to such a huge and sudden load of new information about myself — everything is different now. Although from Thursday afternoon onward I’ve been able to go through my usual routine without much of a hitch, it’s been a bizarre exercise in acclimatization.

At work on Friday it was as if everything I did was for an audience — as if I was holding up the modern United States police and my involvement in it for inspection — except that audience, that inspector, was inside me. I’ve been gaging Hajime’s reaction to every aspect of my life, but they’re my own reactions. Everything seems new because I have a new perspective from which to view it, and even the old — the memories to which I now have access that were hidden from me before — becomes new again each time I recall something from my days in Japan and examine it in the light of my attitudes and experiences as an American with a somewhat different personality.

It’s been surprisingly undisagreeable.

Despite not feeling nearly as disturbed as I might have expected by being, in a way, two people at once, I’ve been keeping Hajime in the background, as far as this is possible, treating my former self more like an index of philosophies and information I suddenly have access to (and am free to disregard, if I wish, in making decisions) than anything that compels. This is not because I consider my Japanese life any less a part of me or any less worthy of being referenced in my choices going forward, but because that life has been completed, and my modern self, the life currently in progress, has a greater right to remain in the forefront and as undistracted as possible under the circumstances.

So I continue to identify as Joe, but that doesn’t mean I’m not Hajime underneath. Attitudes from those days bleed through, and I wouldn’t really want to stop them, even if some impulses I’ve had since recovering that part of myself have been unnecessarily harsh… arising from a hardness of character born of wars I fought in during that lifetime that gave me an edge beyond what I have now.

This all made for a work day yesterday even more distracted than Wednesday before Sano’s return, but, thanks to that aforementioned power of habit, I struggled through it. I have to admit, I’m glad it’s Saturday now, that I have Saturdays off work with my current schedule, and that Sano’s previous promised time of appearance was adhered to punctually enough that his current ‘few days’ can be taken at face value. Even allowing for variable interpretations of ‘a few,’ I’m expecting him as soon as the sun is down.

The waiting isn’t nearly as difficult as previously, because I’m not nearly so single-mindedly impatient for this meeting as I was for the last. There are points I want to discuss, yes, questions I want to ask… but one question — the biggest question — I’m afraid I already know the answer to, and I’m not looking forward to having it brought to light. And I want to see him again, yes, but simultaneously in a way I’d rather not. In fact I’m so conflicted about what I assume will happen this evening that every time I look at the clock I feel perfectly torn: how can time be passing so slowly and yet so quickly?

At least Renee appears to have given up calling for now. She’s persistent, but she also knows how to pick her battles, and must have realized we won’t be having a date this weekend. Does she realize we won’t be having a date ever again? Who knows? I’d have to speak to her to find out, and I’m just not ready for that. Less ready, in fact, than I was before, now I know she’s some manner of descendent of mine. It’s something I’ve been trying not to think about. As before, this seems cowardly… but trying to determine how to deal with the situation is necessarily a lesser priority at the moment.

My frame of mind, comprised as it is of desire, reluctance, and avoidance all vying for the same space, boils down to agitated impatience and inability to sit still, and the evening turns out much like Sunday’s: I can’t read, I can’t watch television, and I end up on the internet wasting time and trying to numb my thoughts with its banality. And I’m wondering, as I did on Wednesday, how exactly he’s going to do this. Will he knock on the door like a civilized person? As if Sano was ever a civilized person… Or will I find him in my bedroom again with no idea how he got there? I chuckle briefly as I consider that that’s a fairly good metaphysical summary of our relationship back in Japan.

It’s upon returning from a trip to the bathroom that I find him seated on my sofa, and I can’t help speculating on whether he’s really as stealthy as I’ve been assuming. I was, after all, extremely preoccupied when he left the other night; it’s possible the silence in which he did so was an illusion caused by my inability to recognize sounds just then. And now perhaps he waited until I was out of the room to enter — quietly but not actually silently — to preserve that illusion.

Looking at him, as it were, through two different sets of eyes at once — and far more self-possessed now, able to interpret coherently as I wasn’t on Wednesday night — I can see both the similarities to and the divergences from what he once was. Of course it’s all new to Joe, but what I notice from that perspective that contrasts with the old Sano therefore stands out all the more strikingly against Hajime’s intimate knowledge.

Visually very little has changed. He wears his hair longer now (and I do have to wonder how bodily development works in vampires), but before it constricts into a small, messy tail in back, it still pokes out wildly on top. His skin is significantly paler than in life, but it’s a paleness I had a chance to get used to before I died, so nothing unexpected there. Another unsurprising difference from his time as a human is the shining eyes… but in the light of my living room their independent glow is less distinguishable. And of course his clothing is unfamiliar, except as far as it’s the same jeans and button-up I’ve seen on him whenever I’ve met him here in the U.S. — it seems likely vampires don’t have much need to do laundry — but the same old kanji, perhaps representing the same old futile clinging to the past, decorates the jacket lying at his side.

No, the real alteration is in expression and bearing. Just as I observed at our last few meetings but didn’t properly recognize or process, there’s a coldness and hardness about the way he carries himself that is completely alien to the Sagara Sanosuke — even the undead version — I remember. He’s sitting in what should seem a perfectly casual position in the corner of the sofa, but there’s something uncompromising about the pose that I find chillingly foreign. And the lines around his eyes… there’s a bitterness, a harshness there that was never present before. There’s no trace of the joviality or even the anger, the lively passions I so loved in him once upon a time, in face or figure.

Originally I planned on taking a seat near him at the other end of the sofa. But in an echo of the repulsion I’ve felt toward him ever since he walked back into my world last Wednesday — a repulsion I now regrettably understand all too well — I stop in the middle of the room, staring fixedly at him in a mixture of desire to go to him and to get as far away from him as I can.

“Breaking and entering again, I see,” is how I greet him, and the sarcasm in the statement is all Hajime.

He just nods, and the difference in him is even more apparent. Back then, Sano certainly wouldn’t have hesitated to let himself into my home without permission if he felt the need to do so, but — I know this; I knew him — there would have been an emotional reaction to being found there. He would have grinned sheepishly, and (contradictorily) maybe a little triumphantly as well, when confronted with his intrusion. Any compunction would have turned to brazenness, and he would have followed his initial reaction with something flirtatious or suggestive. Or there might even have been anger at the idea that I could possibly object to his presence, given our relationship, or doubt its importance, given whatever reason he’d had for breaking in. He would never merely have nodded with such disinterested acknowledgment.

Furthermore, he’s here now after having done something he freely admits some vampires do specifically to torture their victims. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about having had those memories forced on me, but it was certainly a momentous ordeal that has reordered my entire existence… and yet Sano exhibits none of the uncertainty or guilt I know he would have felt in the Meiji era about approaching someone — especially someone he loved — on whom he’d recently inflicted pain and confusion and transformation for his own purposes. He should be hesitant, concerned, if he truly is the Sano I remember… but he isn’t. He’s sitting, unruffled and with no hint of tentativeness about him, ready to being a life-altering conversation.

And I can’t help thinking this change has occurred not because he’s outgrown the awkwardness of youth and gained a perfect aplomb, but because he’s shed many natural human emotions and reactions. Many of the things that made him Sano. Inadvertently at this thought — which is, after all, only a guess until I have more information — I shudder. For a few moments I can’t bear looking at him, so I move to fetch one of the chairs from my dining table and place it in a spot decently far from but facing him. Then I sit and force myself to meet his gaze once again.

“You’re doing OK with the memories,” he says, and it’s not a query whether I’m all right, just a cool observation.

I nod. I have no comment on that topic, at least not yet. And after all, it isn’t as if he asked a question I need to answer.

He mimics my nod, just slightly. “OK, then. You probably have lots of questions. Where do you want me to start?”

Dealing with this in an orderly fashion seems like the easiest way to keep my head on straight, keep from plunging back into everything that made Wednesday night so hectic. With that in mind I ask, “What happened after I died?”

He gives me a somewhat skeptical look. “That’s a lot of time to cover.”

“You covered a lot of time the other night as well.”

“Even that wasn’t this much. But let’s see…” He leans back, stretching out his legs to cross them at the ankles, and props one elbow on the sofa’s armrest, and the movement and pose are a shiver-inducing echo of my old Sano. So are the words that follow.

I’m reserving judgment on precisely how I feel about Sanosuke at the moment, suppressing Hajime’s profound emotions on the matter as best I can and assessing the vampire from Joe’s point of view. That makes it significantly easier to sit here listening to him speak, easier to attain some sort of impassivity about him and his story. How long I can keep it up I don’t know, but for now at least I’m able to take in what he says without too much intense reaction of heart.

“Your assistant — Hirotaka or whatever his name was — he was just sure Meg and I conspired to kill you and then ran off together.” Sano shakes his head with a smile both bitter and rueful. “I guess I can’t blame him for thinking that; what other explanation was there when you turned up dead, and me and Megumi missing? But seriously…” He laughs faintly, derisively.

“Meg stuck around in Japan for a while, trying to keep practicing medicine. She went to Nagasaki to avoid the heat in Tokyo, and dealt with mostly prostitutes and lowlifes and people who appreciated a doctor who only worked at night. But she found out pretty quick that vampires don’t make good doctors. I think she had some really bad experiences before she decided to call it quits. That was a huge blow to her. Being a doctor was what she always wanted. I don’t even remember how many years she wandered around the world just miserable before she found something else to do with herself.”

I nod my wordless understanding. Apart from feeling I have nothing useful to say in response to these unhappy details, anything I could say on the subject would lead into very uncomfortable territory, and in fact directly to the main reason Sano is here… a reason neither of us, I think, is trying to avoid, but that we’re working up to with a measured account of events in the order they occurred. So instead of commenting on Megumi’s sad fate, I ask, “And what about the rest of your friends? Tsukioka and Battousai and everyone? How did they deal with what happened?”

“I only kept up with them through letters after that.” Sano looks pensive, and there’s definitely some regret there. It’s no surprise he couldn’t interact in person with his living friends once he’d begun needing and craving their blood for his own survival, but it couldn’t have been easy for him to abruptly abandon every relationship he’d formed throughout the second half of his life. “Katsu literally sent me back a letter that was just four giant kanji ‘bakayarou’ when I first wrote to him, but after that we were OK. We wrote each other for a few years, but eventually his newspaper got him killed like we all expected.

“You know I still have a print he did? It’s probably worth a fortune these days, but I still hang onto it.” Sano’s glowing eyes turn distant as he says this, as if he’s seeing into the past. I wonder if that’s a skill some vampires actually have. “Anyway, I heard about him in a letter from Kenshin months and months after it happened: a politically motivated murder trying to send a message to anyone else with bright ideas about exposing dirty truths. It was inevitable, I guess, and I think he was probably happy enough to go that way — doing what he thought would be most helpful to the political situation in Japan — but he was the first. Besides you, I mean.

“And Kenshin… He knew Megumi and I didn’t murder you, of course. Actually he was just sure we were both killed by whoever got you. His response to my first letter was just stupid relieved. Kinda annoyed too — like he couldn’t hide it — that I took so long to reassure him. Just like someone else we knew once. Also I think he had to get the police chief — that guy who liked him so much; what was his name? — to make them stop harassing Kenshin and Kaoru about where Megumi and I might be hiding.”

“Uramura,” I murmur. It’s so strange to think that Sano and I have memories of the same set of days, months, and years, but where his must be a bit hazy at certain points after the passage of over a century, mine are relatively fresh and sharp, since they were the last things to occur during the time just recently restored to me.

Sano nods and moves on. “Kenshin never knew for sure about you and me. I’d have gotten around to telling him eventually, if, you know, we hadn’t both died. But I think he guessed. His first few letters were really… like he was offering condolences and support without actually saying it, even though I’m sure he didn’t like the idea of me being with you. He was always like that. He was a really good guy.”

Though Himura’s death hasn’t actually been mentioned yet, there’s a moment of silence between us that feels deliberate, like a respectful gesture. I always had mixed feelings about the man, and am neither surprised at nor can I disagree with Sano’s speculation about his lack of approval of our relationship, but looking back at him now through Joe’s eyes… and, if I’m to be perfectly honest, with Hajime’s grudging awareness of all the facts of the matter… he truly was exactly what Sano says: a really good guy. I wonder what form he currently inhabits, how his present life is going.

“Of course Kenshin and Kaoru got married eventually,” Sano continues at last, more lightly, “once they figured their shit out. Took ’em even longer to figure out birth control, though, because they just kept having kids. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.” He gestures uncomprehendingly in the air with one pale hand, and I can’t help a brief laugh. “I think Yahiko got tired of the constant baby-making, because he moved out as soon as Kenshin handed over his sakabatou. Into my longhouse, actually…” Again his look is distant, this time with a slight smile. No doubt we’re both remembering that longhouse and what were probably the happiest moments of the end of our lives.

“And Kenshin had to deal with a few more serious enemies before he gave his sword up. I didn’t get many letters from Kaoru, but she always gave me more details than Kenshin did — he would make it sound like it was nothing, but she was more worried about him after every different conflict. And eventually she turned out to be right: all that fighting and struggling to protect people without killing just tore him apart, and he died before he was even fifty. Kaoru lived to be seventy-something, with eight million grandkids, though. Yahiko married her oldest daughter eventually, but I didn’t write them many letters after Kenshin died.”

“And where were you writing letters from?” I know this will usher us into the story of the next hundred years, the real story Sano is here to tell, and drop us off at the doorstep of the question he’s here to ask, the offer he’s here to make. But that’s the point we’ve reached — everything has been laid out sensibly, and this is the next step; I’m as ready for it as I’ll ever be.

“Oh, all over the place. There wasn’t much reason for me to stick around Japan after you died, and a lot of good reasons to leave. Even if I wasn’t wanted for murdering a government agent, they held your funeral during the day, of course. I did hear eventually, from Kenshin, that a bunch of interesting people showed up — him, to begin with, and Chou, and some of your old Shinsengumi buddies who were still alive… You’d have been surprised how popular it turned out you were.”

The half amused and half dismissive hn sound that comes out of my mouth has nothing whatsoever to do with my current life.

“So at first I just wandered. Learned about vampires a bit more, figured out how to keep going without too many random murders. Thought about killing myself but never quite went through with it. I probably would have eventually, but then I ran into this kid — this really nice little eleven-year-old Māori kid — in New Zealand. Before that I never thought much about what I believed about the afterlife — it was too painful, with all the people in my life who were already dead. But this kid… this kid was Sagara Souzou.

“It was such a huge shock; I had to stick around his village night after night after night until I could be absolutely sure I wasn’t imagining things, and they thought some evil spirit was haunting them or something.” He chuckles darkly. “They were right about that! But the point is, it was proof that reincarnation is a thing. That’s when I realized I had something to keep living for — though of course ‘living’ isn’t the right word.” He fixes me with a sudden direct gaze that, with the vampire brightness of his eyes, is startling and piercing. It’s almost hypnotic, like every glance of those eyes the other night. I can’t look away. “I realized,” he corrects himself, “I had something — someone— I could be looking for.”

Previous (Part 14) | Chapter Index | Next (Part 16)

2 Replies to “Blood Contingency 15”

  1. Oh Godddddddddd………….Sano literally did look for Saito for all that time. And apparently, he’d found him before now, hence the previous line about being happily with someone else again. I’m wrecked. This story wrecked me.

    Joe feeling like he was working for an “audience” was awesome because the Saito part of his identity was judging him. I really liked that. And how he manages to settle himself with Joe in the foreground and Saito in the back.

    GAH. I’m so sad, though!! And I know I’ll be sad for a long time as this story progresses. D: But despite my heart being ripped out, I’m captivated and can’t wait to see what happens next. Thank you!

    1. He sure did :( Once again, I can’t necessarily say, “I’m glad you’re wrecked,” but I am pleased the tragedy is working as intended XD Why am I so mean to thems??

      I still feel like I oversimplified the whole “recovering 35 years’ worth of memories all at once” deal (obviously for the sake of getting on with the story), but I don’t really mind the way I did it. In its limited extent, it’s still kinda fun.

      Thanks for your comments, as always!

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