Hajime had lain down on his side, head pillowed on one outstretched arm, for a nap he probably seriously needed after a day of having been taken prisoner, tied up and held captive, forced to fight a proficient warrior for his freedom, pursued by unseen enemies, and further worn out by a cross-country escape. Tokio too — she lying flat on her back, seemingly indifferent to the solidity of the dirt floor beneath her — had gone to sleep, while Sano remained alert as a watchman that admittedly could do little more than awaken his companions should some undesirable party enter the shed.
He had volunteered for this task for a few reasons: first, because, despite his soreness after battle, he suspected his day hadn’t been as tiring as that of the other two; second, because, though of course he felt some concern, he wasn’t nearly as worried about Eiji’s safety as they must be, and thought sleep might prove a welcome distraction for the mother and the uncle; third, because he wasn’t sure he wanted to sleep near Hajime just at the moment.
He’d never been able to control his dreams, nor influence the topics his subconscious decided to ruminate about at night, and he couldn’t be certain right now that his new emotional awareness wouldn’t make itself perfectly, undeniably clear the very next time he closed his eyes, if not during the course of every dream he ever had for the rest of his life. And was that the way he wanted to share his feelings with their object?
Even after all this time, he remained in the dark on whether or not Hajime knew they had the same sleeping experiences when they made their beds close to each other. While information only Hajime could reveal had at times come up and confirmed to Sano that these dreams were not merely his, he could remember no instance of the reverse… so Hajime, though he must be conscious of a change to what he saw in his head at night, might not be aware this change had come about because the contents of a new head had been added to the mix.
And if, believing simply that a dream version of Sano was unusually prevalent in his subconscious (though how he would interpret that apparent fixation was already a matter of interesting question), Hajime were to encounter that supposedly unreal Sanosuke in his sleep in this shed with the ‘real’ Sano sleeping a few feet away, and were to hear from him during the course of that dream…
…if Sano were to tell him…
…to confess to him at last…
… if that dream-Sano were to say, “I love you… I think I’ve been in love with you since you collapsed in front of me in Torosa Forest and I dragged your ass off the road and cut your clothing up for bandages… I love you so much I seriously don’t even know what to do with it right now…”
…or if that dream-Sano were to fling himself on Hajime and passionately kiss the visionary version of those dexterous lips; or get down on one knee and propose marriage to him, offering his entire life and begging for Hajime’s in return; or conjure up a false Tokio, still in this dream-world married rather than related to Hajime, and challenge her to combat to the death in an old-fashioned and these days entirely illegal dual for Hajime’s hand…
…how would the knight react to that? If he believed it a product of his subconscious, what would he make of it?
Or if he did know their dreams were shared, and recognized Sano’s sleeping declaration for the waking truth it was, what then? Would that really be the best way to tell him? It seemed almost cowardly, leaving it up to a dream like that. And what Hajime’s reaction would be, whether he knew of their dream-link or not, came back to how he felt about Sano in return — which remained an unknown factor Sano feared to face.
And they were still in the middle of a significant political conflict that Hajime would probably prioritize over anything else. Whatever Sano believed about Hajime’s awareness and frame of mind, this still seemed like the wrong time to confess — and therefore not a good moment to sleep near the knight and risk inadvertently doing so. He would undoubtedly have to sleep near him again eventually, but that time would not be now, and he would worry about it only when it came.
His own mental state was going to be hell until then, though.
The sun had gone down, the moon not yet risen, and starlight through the small, overhung windows had barely any effect on the resultant blackness. So, although Sano sat unmoving in the vegetable-scented darkness staring at where he knew Hajime lay, he could see almost nothing and had no source of visual distraction in his long vigil. Nor, in this lightless environment, could he have tracked the passage of time even had he possessed the means to do so, unless he wanted to disturb his companions’ sleep with light from his keonblade.
He’d never owned an hourglass back in Eloma, always having been content to show up for his orchard shifts as soon as he was awake and ready; and his employers had never minded as long as it wasn’t too much later than usual. In fact the whole town, though hard-working, had been pretty easy-going about exact times; he didn’t think there’d been more than two hourglasses in the entire village. And in Elotica, the great bells that sang out from the palace at regular intervals during the day made it easy for people to be punctual without ever needing to consult hourglasses at their home or anywhere.
He’d heard of special mechanical devices for telling time that rich people bought from Gönsting traders and worked by means of keys somehow, but he’d never seen one and probably never would. There was certainly no such device in this country farm shed… and he wouldn’t have been able to see it anyway if there had been. And his thoughts were getting silly; he seemed to be in some danger of dozing off after all. He rose and, glad events had put him this time on the outer end of the row so he didn’t have to pick his way over his sleeping comrades, started to pace the fragrant space beyond with the slowness of blind-walking care.
They’d all three assumed their shiiyao again, and packed away any loose articles they had about them, just in case a hasty exit from the shed became necessary. What they’d hung up to dry hadn’t, really, so now Sano felt chilly and uncomfortable as he made circles in the dark in his wet outer garment. At least he couldn’t see its stupid colors under these circumstances… and hopefully when Eiji returned — if Eiji returned safely and had completed his errand — Sano would be able to change out of the thing for good.
Hourglass or no hourglass, it felt as if eons had passed by the time he heard sounds of motion outside. He tensed and felt his heart rate increase as if in response to a much more exciting stimulus, and, drawing his keonblade, gave himself a little light with its energy, moved quickly toward the door, and hissed over his shoulder, “Somebody’s here.”
Before he reached the entrance, he could hear Hajime and Tokio (who must be light sleepers, at the very least under these circumstances) coming toward him, and then the knock they’d agreed upon with Eiji at the door. Sano let out a relieved breath and increase the light from his sword, while Tokio hastened forward to shift aside the sacks in order to allow her son to enter.
Sano’s relief turned to consternation, however, and his relaxation reverted into stiffness the next moment when Eiji was followed into the shed by two complete strangers.
He lengthened his energy blade out and fell into a combative stance, while Tokio took a step back and eyed the newcomers warily. Hajime, however, pushed past all of them to greet the men with almost more enthusiasm than Sano had ever seen him show for anything. He couldn’t even wait until they’d descended the stairs to the sunken dirt floor before grasping them each by the arm in turn. And as he did so he was asking, “Where have you been? Are you both uninjured? How did you escape Soujirou? How did you meet up with Eiji?”
One of the men gave a laugh that managed to sound almost bubbly in its cheer and yet simultaneously sardonic. “One question at a time, maybe?” And, freed from Hajime’s arm-clasp, he reached out to give Hajime’s shoulder a little squeeze and shake of his own, clearly glad to see him.
“And I can’t believe the first thing you said to us wasn’t a great big ‘thank you’ for getting those fake-o’s off your tail back in Enca!” The other man made this jovial accusation as he closed the door behind him and examined the potato-filled doorstops for a moment to determine how they had previously been arranged.
Tokio, now with an arm around the shoulders of her son that hadn’t said anything yet, was nodding thoughtfully as if in confirmation of her own recognition of the two strangers. Hajime, obviously their friend — and that fact alone gave Sano some idea who they must be — answered the statement of the second with, “I thought I recognized your stupid shouting back there.”
“It’s a battle cry,” the second man corrected him, in a tone suggesting he’d made this protest on multiple occasions in the past. And that he had this inside joke with Hajime indicated his identity all the more clearly. “It’s a tradition of my people.”
Sano rejoiced to see Hajime so obviously happy at this reunion, and was interested in how Hajime displayed that happiness, but he more than a little expected…
“Your people?” Hajime replied very sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware the rice-farmers outside Emikara had ancient battle traditions.”
…and, yes, there it was: jealousy again. It had been forced to abandon Tokio, so now it latched onto the next people closely connected to Hajime. That would surely become inconvenient after not too long.
“Anyway,” said the first man with a roll of eyes, “we’ve been hiding out in a shack at the edge of Enca ever since we left the palace. When you four came tearing through with a bunch of false knights at your heels, we stepped in to slow them up. Of course then we had to get away from them, but at least none of us knew where you all had gone. We thought you might head for Ekoren, so as soon as we shook the false knights we went there ourselves — and we ran into your nephew here.”
“I’m surprised you recognized him,” Hajime remarked. “You can’t have seen him more than twice, and I think the last time must have been at least three years ago.”
“Yeah, but he’s got your eyes,” said the second man, narrowing his own in scowling demonstration.
The first man chuckled, then cast a calculating glance around the entire party. “And Eiji wasn’t joking about you all needing new clothing.” His gaze fixed on Sano’s orange and blue ensemble, and his sardonic smile widened into one of scorn that Sano could only describe as ‘catty.’ Sano found his own eyes narrowing a trifle.
Eiji tried to hide his smirk at this further teasing of Sano about his stupid outfit by shrugging off his backpack and dropping to his knees beside it. As he began handing up its new contents to his mother for examination, his uncle turned to Sano and made formal introductions. “These are royal knights under my command: Soujirou and Sanosuke.” And Sano’s heart thrilled when Hajime added with a slight smile, “You’ve commented on their names before, I believe.” It made him want to stick his tongue out at the knights and say, “See? We have a history too.”
“Commented what?” the one Hajime had indicated was Sanosuke asked as he stepped forward and reached out. “And who are you?” And as Sano clasped forearms with him, he studied the stocky, muscular frame, the purple-black hair almost as jagged as (though a little more kempt than) his own used to be, and the rugged, easy demeanor, and wondered whether he was imagining the jovial threat in the man’s expression and tone and the grip of his hand.
“This is another idiot Sano,” Hajime informed his subordinates. “He’s been helping me gather information about Soujirou’s regime, and putting together a resistance group we’ll meet with when we get back into the capital.”
And in having his absolute best accomplishments of recent days mentioned like this (and his humble antecedents conveniently neglected, especially now he knew this other Sanosuke hailed from a family of rice-farmers), Sano didn’t even a little bit mind being referred to as ‘another idiot.’ Besides, he couldn’t help but notice that Hajime had introduced the others to him first as if he were the more intimate acquaintance.
Still, he wondered if he was the only one to notice the tension in this Soujirou’s bearing as they too clasped wrists. The man had a round, smooth, femininely beautiful face beneath dark hair almost as luxurious as Seijuurou’s and above a petite body that yet exuded a wiry strength; and his big, deep eyes that should have given him an expression of childlike innocence helped rather to convey more of the sharpness and cutting amusement that seemed to show in the rest of his demeanor.
Was Sano imagining the sudden feeling of rivalry between himself and these two men he’d only just met? Was he letting his desire to share the same type of camaraderie with Hajime affect his impression of them — and how they reacted to him — right from the off? Or was there really some sense of competition already growing among them? He couldn’t be sure.
At this juncture Tokio began handing out new shiiyao, narrating as she did so. “For you–” to Hajime– “something with a nice deep hood — good find, Eiji — and for me, something without an easily recognizable device on the chest. You two–” she gave a nod of acknowledgment and a slight smile in response to the flippant salute the knight Sanosuke gave her, and looked over the patched and dirty outfits the newcomers wore– “are fine the way you are. For you…” And she turned toward Sano.
“Something less like a circus performer?” Soujirou suggested with slicing sweetness.
“Something less like an invitation to be stabbed?” the traitorous Hajime put in.
The other Sanosuke unexpectedly stood up for him with, “I don’t think it’s that bad…”
“No, of course you don’t,” Soujirou said contemptuously.
And the scowling Sano protested, “I didn’t pick the outfit, all right?”
Tokio cleared her throat, unable to repress a smile herself, and held out a brown shiiya in Sano’s direction.
As those that needed to change clothing did so, and both Sano and Eiji subsequently stored away the previous shiiyao in their backpacks (and Sano absolutely did maneuver to get Hajime’s in his rather than let kid take it), the chief knight questioned the other two about their movements since the takeover.
They both looked dark as Soujirou explained, “The others switched sides. We had to fight them just to get away–”
“And because they were treacherous little shits,” Sanosuke put in darkly. Sano believed that, if he didn’t already feel so much at odds with this guy, he might really like him.
Soujirou gave a vicious smile. “That too,” he said. “We left Keisuke dead and Kanryuusai wounded.”
Hajime, expression grim, bowed his head.
“And I lost my fucking spear,” Sanosuke grumbled, apropos of nothing.
“Which he hasn’t stopped mentioning since.” Soujirou’s tone was even more sugary than before, his smile tight.
Hajime said nothing.
After a few moments Soujirou went on. “We wanted to find you, but nobody knew where you’d gone. Elotica was too hot for us, so we went to Enca… but even there there wasn’t much we could do with our recognizable faces.”
“Yeah,” Sanosuke said with an infuriating grin, “good thing you had this nobody here to help you gather information.”
Again Soujirou gave his incongruously cheerful-sounding laugh of derision.
Sano could remain silent no longer. “Ladies, Hajime, are all royal knights this big of assholes?”
Hajime finally raised his face again, now wearing a very bitter smile of his own. “Yes,” he said. Then he pursed his lips, took an almost angry-sounding breath, and looked at the aforementioned assholes. “So you two have no idea what’s been going on in the capital since the usurpation?”
Soujirou shook his head. “Listening to gossip was all we could do, and that got us exactly nowhere.”
“Yeah, Hajime, you know there’s a rumor that you’re secretly a paruseji and grew wings to fly away from Prince Soujirou?” Sanosuke rolled his eyes as he tried to remember more. “Oh, and that you blinded some city guards with mist to get away from them?”
“A mist of blood from the Tomoe devoted you’d just murdered in the street,” Soujirou elaborated helpfully.
Sano went from fondly remembering the dream he and Hajime had shared about flying with swans’ wings paruseji-style to sadly remembering the Tomoe devoted that had been murdered in the street, and didn’t appreciate the transition.
Hajime, finished rolling his own eyes, shifted the subject. “Soujirou has been–”
But here the other Soujirou broke in. “You know what? Call me Souji from now on. It’s getting confusing, and I don’t want to share his name anyway.”
Suspicious and indignant, the knight Sanosuke protested, “Just don’t expect me to change my name just because there’s another Sano around.”
“What,” Sano wanted to know, every bit as indignant, “are you putting me in the same class as Soujirou?
“Something wrong with that?” Soujirou’s words were like shiny daggers.
“I mean the other Soujirou,” Sano explained impatiently.
“Maybe I am,” Sanosuke shot back.
Now it was Tokio’s turn to chuckle from where she’d gone to lean against the tub Sano had fallen into earlier as she waited for this conversation to wrap up. Eiji merely watched them all with the patience of a child that knows pretty well he is in some ways a lot smarter than the adults around him.
“Shut up, all of you,” Hajime said irritably. “Souji, it’s a good idea to get these names organized. You–” he pointed an authoritative finger at Sano– “will remain ‘Sano’ until further notice while you–” and here he gestured at the other one– “will be identified by your family name, Harada, as long as this Sano is around.”
Harada evidently wasn’t very good at staying shut up, for now he demanded hotly, “Why me and not him?”
“Because I don’t know his family name,” was Hajime’s brief reply.
Though unsurprised at this — family names weren’t used much in day-to-day life — Sano was also a bit disappointed that Hajime could rattle off the appellation of one of his knights but had never heard Sano’s. He found himself murmuring, “Higashidani,” a little wistfully under his breath even as Hajime went on to explain what they knew or suspected of the activities and plans of Prince Soujirou, now more easily distinguishable from a member of their party by a couple of syllables, and the white devoted Kamatari, as well as their own intentions.
Concise as Hajime had the power to be, by the time his update was finished, they were all long since ready to depart, and Sano far more comfortable than he’d been all day in his new, dry garment. Of course ‘new’ was a misnomer: to obtain shiiyao with attached hoods this deep, Eiji must have had to look for used, outdated pieces (probably pretending that was all he could afford), and the collection he’d brought back was worn thin in places and fraying. Still, Sano considered himself one up on Souji and Harada in this, since they’d evidently been out in the rain all day too and had nothing to change into from the damp, ragged clothing, more patches than shiiyao, they’d been hiding out in all this time. But everyone, whatever they wore, had grown equally antsy to evacuate this latest hiding place.
With the help of Tokio’s map, Sano’s knowledge of which city entrances had checkpoints, and a couple of keonblades for light, Hajime was planning the best route toward and into the capital from here so they could leave within the next few minutes, when Souji, who’d been frowning pensively at the unrolled paper all this time, came out with a suggestion:
“We’ve spent weeks in the poor end of Enca… I think some of the people in that area might be convinced to come to the meeting at least. A week from now, you said?”
“That’s right.” Hajime turned toward him thoughtfully, though his expression still held that touch of darkness it had worn ever since he’d heard two of his knights had deserted him and one had died. “Not more fans of my magical escapes, I hope.”
“Nah, they’re fans of Souji,” Harada interjected jovially. When Souji glanced sharply at him he said, “What? I’m allowed to call you that now, aren’t I?”
Despite the general impatience to get going, Souji obviously felt he had time for a long, narrow-eyed, assessing look up and down Harada’s figure as if searching for some change he’d long been awaiting. “I suppose so,” he said at last, frostily, and Sano was instantly curious. He wondered if he hadn’t been misjudging the source and nature of the tension he’d felt upon meeting these two men. He wondered why Harada hadn’t been allowed to call Souji by a nickname prior to this. He wondered why Hajime seemed to sigh very faintly at this exchange.
Harada’s grin widened, showing a gap where a premolar should have sat on the upper left. “Souji’s got a silver tongue; I think everyone hanging out at that end of Enca lately’s in love with him.”
Hajime lifted a brow, at which Souji rolled his eyes. “Nobody there is likely to bring much loyalty,” the beautiful knight went on without bothering to respond to or offer any explanation for the ‘silver tongue’ comment. “They’re paupers and criminals, and if they do come, it’ll be in the hopes of getting something out of it — rewards, pardons, more of Kenshin’s attention to poorer parts of town…”
“…a kiss from Souji…” Harada put in sotto voce.
Possibly in irritation of his own, possibly in response to the lethal smile that had sprung up on Souji’s face, Hajime commanded, “No more of that. Souji, promise them we’ll talk to the king on their behalf if he’s restored to power — nothing more. Sound them out very carefully, though; if they’re willing to throw in with us for a reward, they’ll be just as willing to accept a better deal from our enemies. Emphasize the importance of caution and secrecy for anyone planning to attend the meeting. Get in touch with as many people as you think is safe, then meet us in Elotica no later than the 49th four days from now.”
Souji nodded sharply. Harada, on the other hand, made a skeptical grumbling sound. “After we just found Hajime, we’re going back into the ass-crack of Enca to talk to the grungy crazy people again?”
“Who said anything about ‘we?'” Souji’s full lips, of a perfect pale pinkish brown, somehow managed to form the sharpest line Sano had ever seen as they smiled condescendingly over at his fellow.
“Well, of course I’m coming with you,” Harada said, as if this were a given.
“Of course he is,” Hajime reiterated. “You two will need to meet us at the old thieves’ guild headquarters in Elotica, and the rest of us–” he looked around at his sister and nephew– “if we’re separated, need to meet there as well. Sano, describe in detail where it’s located and how to get inside.”
As Sano did so, and followed it up with the exact time and place of the upcoming meeting so Souji could better inform the paupers and criminals that were apparently in love with him, the somewhat dark cheer of both the newcomer knights seemed to be restored. There was certainly a spring in each step as, finally finished reconnoitering, they left the shed at last and moved quietly out onto the nighttime farm. Perhaps having orders and deadlines and facts to work with helped to distract them from… whatever had been happening in there.
The moon popped up above the horizon with a startling suddenness as, confident they hadn’t attracted any attention yet, they quickly climbed the fence to leave the property some of them had inhabited for several tense hours. A dog let out a brief, barking howl from the other side of the buildings behind them, prompting the travelers to greater speed toward the nearest farm lane. Once there, with firm-packed earth beneath their feet again, they took their leave as Souji and Harada were to head west back toward Enca — the way the others had come earlier, in fact — while Hajime and the rest followed this lane for as long as it ran so directly south.
“Misao bless you sneaking into Elotica.” Souji must know how little Hajime would appreciate this low-voiced goodbye, for his sardonic bubbliness sounded again as he said it.
And Hajime seemed to be taking specific revenge as he replied in just as low and sardonic a tone, “And Yumi’s blessing on you two.”
Harada chuckled. “See you in a week,” he said, repeating his lackadaisical salute from earlier in the light of the waning moon, and turned to walk away.
“Four days,” Souji corrected, following. “Pay attention.”
“It’d be easier if I had my spear,” Harada grumbled nonsensically. And then they’d gone too far for their murmured conversation to remain audible.
Still curious about a number of things, Sano watched them disappear into the shadows, then faced Hajime, whom he would rather look at in any case. The chief knight was shaking his head, expression invisible with his back to the moon, but when he saw Sano’s eyes on him he gestured silently down the lane. Sano, in this instance unwilling to bring up the rear or be any farther from Hajime than he had to, took his place directly behind him as they set out on their nighttime walk, heading back to Elotica for perhaps the last time.