Toshizou Hijikata ♦ 土方 歳三 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thenearshore2016-11-18 10:24 am
koukai_kirai) wrote in thenearshore2016-11-18 10:24 am
There's a letter on the desktop that I dug out of the drawer [CLOSED]
Who: Yamanami and Hijikata
What: Hijikata and Yamanami's awkward efforts to avoid each other finally fail.
When: May 17th
Where: Kouenji Temple, Kyoto
Warnings:Shinsengumi things Grief, guilt, poorly-handled depression, likely mentions of various people meeting pretty unpleasant ends (especially by assassination and suicide.) Will add other warnings if they end up being necessary!
If he's honest with himself, he probably needed what happened a few days ago. He feels changed, as if the burden on his shoulders has shifted somewhat, become easier to carry now that he's been forced to let some of the pain out.
Everything isn't better. It's still a heavy load to carry. But... somehow, it isn't as overwhelming as it was a few days ago.
It's still hard not to focus too much on knowing Sannan is here now, though. There are so many mistakes that he never thought he'd have the chance to atone for, and still... now, presented with something like a chance, he finds himself somehow paralyzed.
The man didn't want to talk to him for months and months before he died. If he does work up the nerve to approach him, it's not going to be easy.
Not thinking about it doesn't seem to be working, though, so some kind of action is called for. It's been three days since he visited Yamanami's grave in the night, but perhaps now that he's settled a little, being there again might give him a bit more clarity on the matter...
Even now, with the sun shining and the gates open, the little temple is all but abandoned. The monk is awake this time, sweeping off the veranda and humming to himself quietly, and doesn't seem to notice as Hijikata walks through the front garden with an offering bouquet and a small bottle of good sake, tossing a coin into the offering box and paying his proper respects to the temple before heading around the narrow little path to the graveyard. He can find it more easily this time -- against the far wall, where the bushes are planted, in the back near the corner. It's just the same as the way he left it...
Except this time, there's someone there.
Hijikata stops in his tracks, his eyes going wide with recognition.
He should go. He should leave him to whatever thoughts brought him here --
"Yamanami?"
What: Hijikata and Yamanami's awkward efforts to avoid each other finally fail.
When: May 17th
Where: Kouenji Temple, Kyoto
Warnings:
If he's honest with himself, he probably needed what happened a few days ago. He feels changed, as if the burden on his shoulders has shifted somewhat, become easier to carry now that he's been forced to let some of the pain out.
Everything isn't better. It's still a heavy load to carry. But... somehow, it isn't as overwhelming as it was a few days ago.
It's still hard not to focus too much on knowing Sannan is here now, though. There are so many mistakes that he never thought he'd have the chance to atone for, and still... now, presented with something like a chance, he finds himself somehow paralyzed.
The man didn't want to talk to him for months and months before he died. If he does work up the nerve to approach him, it's not going to be easy.
Not thinking about it doesn't seem to be working, though, so some kind of action is called for. It's been three days since he visited Yamanami's grave in the night, but perhaps now that he's settled a little, being there again might give him a bit more clarity on the matter...
Even now, with the sun shining and the gates open, the little temple is all but abandoned. The monk is awake this time, sweeping off the veranda and humming to himself quietly, and doesn't seem to notice as Hijikata walks through the front garden with an offering bouquet and a small bottle of good sake, tossing a coin into the offering box and paying his proper respects to the temple before heading around the narrow little path to the graveyard. He can find it more easily this time -- against the far wall, where the bushes are planted, in the back near the corner. It's just the same as the way he left it...
Except this time, there's someone there.
Hijikata stops in his tracks, his eyes going wide with recognition.
He should go. He should leave him to whatever thoughts brought him here --
"Yamanami?"
CW: Suicidal inclinations
Yamato would call it a promotion. A wonderful shinki with nothing but the strongest faith that he'd been called into this role because he was worthy of wearing such a mantle. But Yamanami felt nothing but crushed underneath the thought of carrying the prayers, the hopes, the pain and the burdens of thousands. He is no brave and awe-inspiring God of War. He didn't even have the beard.
What he is, is a useless failure. The coward that took the easy way out because living had grown too hard, facing Hijikata was too hard. He could have gone with the ruse, pretended that he hadn't deserted. He could have spared Okita the horror and pain of striking him down. He could have swallowed his pride and his morals and live and fight with his friends, as unpleasant as it would have been.
He could have been there till the bitter end. He doesn't know how but maybe, maybe if he had been there, the end might not have been as bitter as it could have been. Instead he chose to stupidly throw his life away. His one final attempt to be the rope of right Hijikata had wanted him to be...when there were so many more moments afterwards that Hijikata could have needed him there.
These thoughts haunt him and no matter where he goes they trail behind like a creeping shadow, nipping at his heels. Isolation suits him better, because being around Yamato and hearing her praise and her faith in him is almost heart-breaking. He doesn't deserve such a marvellous shinki, but she insists that she is to serve him, that he is her lord. The notion that he's done anything to even warrant such respect is laughable, but every attempt to tell her otherwise is met with strong opposition from his shinki. He doesn't know why she chooses to believe in him, what worth she even sees in such a weak, pathetic man.
That's why he's avoiding her too. And once he found out who she had met close to the temple grounds, he had even less desire to be found on the Far Shore. That's why he's snuck out to the Near Shore, wandering further and further away. Somehow or another his feet had led him down the familiar paths, and he found himself standing outside the very same temple he used to frequent when he just needed to get away from the Shinsengumi base, get away from a place that he felt increasingly alienated from.
It's not fair to Yamato to keep her tied to him, he thinks to himself as he crosses the threshold. He should release her. Help her find someone better to serve. That would be the right thing to do. It doesn't matter that he'd be alone, with nothing but these terrible thoughts for company. This poison chalice is what he should drink from; it's the punishment he deserves.
Being an otherworldly denizen of the Heavens means that he goes unnoticed when he enters the compound. A person who looks to be the monk and caretaker of the temple is excitedly explaining to a small group the history of the temple. Yamanami pulls out a coin and makes sure it goes into the offering box; it's nice to know that after a 100 years this temple is still around.
But then he hears something that makes his blood freeze. And he's grateful that he can pass by them unseen and unheard, because the expression that's on his face right now would probably be alarming. He's not certain what's pulling him down this path but there's a faint sense of wanting to know, wanting to indulge in a little bit of macabre curiosity. He wonders if the earth will open under his feet and swallow him back in. He'd welcome it, to be honest. Death would be so much simpler than this new existence.
And just like the monk had said, there it is. Or he is. The grave marker at the back, near the bush. And no, no hole has appeared underneath him to allow the grave to claim him back. That's almost a pity, he thinks hollowly to himself. He doesn't understand why the Heavens would let someone like him live again. His shinki, Okita, Hijikata, the millions of people that are calling out for a god but getting this fake instead...he doesn't deserve this status. He doesn't deserve to live.
And as if to hammer that fact in, the one voice he dreads the most calls his name from behind. He shouldn't look back. He shouldn't speak, he should just, just go, jump over the fence if he has to--
--...he looks so much older. Hollowed out and gaunt. Yamanami never thought himself a sadist, but turning to see what his "guidance" had wrought twists the guilt in deeper, a tightening in his chest as he remembers, oh gods he remembers, the last time they had met. Already his side begins to ache, already his neck feels the sharp steel. For the one who's been dead longer, it's Yamanami that looks like he's seen a ghost.
"Hijikata-kun..."
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He was thirty years old when Yamanami died, with the eyes of a man who'd lived a hard life twice as long. And though his body hasn't aged much in the five years since then, to look at his eyes at times like this, those years might well have been an eternity.
Still, Yamanami seems to recognize him instantly -- the sound of his name sends an unexpected pang of nostalgia through him, as he wonders how long it's been since someone called him that. (He was Toshi to Kondou and his family, -san or -dono or Vice Commander to everyone else, but he was always "Hijikata-kun" to Sannan, wasn't he?)
"I was wondering if I'd run into you sooner or later. Didn't think it'd be here of all places, though," he hears himself saying, trying to sound casual about it, hearing it fall flat. He struggles to keep his eyes from looking the way they did the last time Yamanami saw them, wide and hurt and horrified.
(What right does he have to show that kind of thing in front of Yamanami? How selfish would he have to be to care about his own pain, after what he did to him?)
He pauses, then, with a bitter little smile, raises up the arm carrying the flowers and sake slightly.
"Just as well, I suppose. I did come to give these to you."
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So instead, he's forcing a smile on his face, taking his cue from Hijikata's attempts to keep things casual. He's practiced that smile for the last year of his life, perfected it to hide all the conflict and despair that boiled underneath it. But his entire frame is rigid, his hand gripping onto his abacus hard like a lifeline.
"Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
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He'd nearly forgotten how painful it was to see him like this. But of course, that's part of why he was so desperate back then, isn't it?
Watching one of his oldest, dearest friends withdraw further and further, putting up more and more walls in front of himself -- it had hurt. It had hurt, and he'd wanted so much to somehow fix it, to put things back the way they'd been before. To make it so Yamanami was their comrade again, to make it so he was their friend again, so he'd fought against his attempts to pull away...
(Stupid. He was so stupid, not to see how much worse that would make it.)
He sighs, running a hand through his short, slightly messy hair, avoiding the other man's eyes.
"I wanted to."
His new life as a god has been something he's been determined to take as a second chance, an opportunity to be better than what he was in life, to make things right where he can. And as he tries to figure out what to say, one of the mistakes he made in his old life suddenly makes itself clear to him:
Demanding things of Sannan never went well, when he was like this. Not in the long run.
Time to try something different, then.
"If... you wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk with you."
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But then, shoulders tense and the corners of his smile recedes slightly when Hijikata asks for a discussio. He remembers all too well how their last conversations had gone, and he has no desire to stage an encore. Yamanami remains upright, yet somehow gives the impression of shrinking into himself. In the past he had relied on moral indignation to stand up and face Hijikata. But right now he has neither; only his doubts and his guilt, eroding him from the inside. Should this conversation turns sour, it would drive the stake of his despair deeper into his heart. Right now, he's not sure he can take that.
But then it sinks in that this is a request, not a demand, and Yamanami noticeably relaxes. Not enough that he's at ease...but at least the defensive air around him has dissipated. How long has it been since they had any civil discourse? And that Hijikata himself is asking this of him, giving Yamanami the choice...well. In some way, this change of the norms only serves to terrify him even further. Hijikata has changed, and Yamanami's not sure if it's a good change or not.
"Of course. I can't refuse that request from you, Hijikata-kun." He replies softly. His gaze lowers to the ground as he struggles to find the right choice of words. Eventually he looks back up and smiles apologetically. He's still smiling, still trying to keep the crumbling pieces together even as everything threatens to break apart.
"Shall we move back to the temple? I'll see if I can find some cups for that sake." Also, this is not a conversation they should have in front of his grave.
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Of course he hasn't, he admonishes himself -- when would he have had the time to? But to think that to him, it was such a short time ago...
The blade through his body, the pain that drove him to accept it as his only path to escape, those aren't some far-off memory to him. The last arguments they had, those must feel like they're just weeks in the past, the wounds their words made still raw and bitter...
Hijikata has had a long time to learn how to carry on in spite of all the wounds on his heart. It's shocking to realize that Yamanami is still as fragile as he was the day he broke.
It's terrifying.
...Sake might help, honestly.
"Could probably borrow a couple from the old man's kitchen. It's not like he'll see us," he suggests, doing a slightly better job of sounding casual before. It's a suggestion that could just as easily have come from the boy he was when Yamanami met him, a thought that he at least finds oddly comforting.
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Yamanami had spoken without thinking. It's only when he's finished that his mouth clamps shut, and his gaze drops back to the ground. "Sorry. I'm--even now, we keep disagreeing."
His hands are trembling, shaking, causing the abacus he's gripping to begin to rattle. Yamanami is appalled that he's showing such weakness in front of Hijikata, but the wave of panic is beginning to rush towards the shores of his consciousness. "Sorry." He tries again. "I know it's just a pair of cups. I'll, I'll just go and get them--"
Why did he have to disagree on everything? Why couldn't he just have stopped being so righteous. Why couldn't he have just stayed with the Shinsengumi and followed them down that dark path to Hell? Instead he rotted away under the earth, in peace, he thinks disparagingly...when he should have been at his comrades' side at Ezo. He was useless in life and useless in death. He didn't deserve flowers from Hijikata. He didn't deserve flowers from anyone.
Yamanami takes a few steps forward, to the temple or to get away, he's not even sure. But right now he's too disgusted with himself to stay here. "If the layout of the temple hasn't changed then I know where the kitchen is. I'll meet you at the courtyard?"
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Hijikata guesses he doesn't have any right to be surprised, after how hard he came down on him for raising objections in the past. Still, it's nearly physically painful, watching him cringe and apologize over so little.
(Another mistake he's identified, in years of looking back on what he should have done better: always thinking about how to win, how to get his way, never pausing to consider how the tactics that won him an argument might lose something far more important.)
(Stupid. Selfish, and naïve, and stupid. )
He takes a step forward and tries to place his empty hand on the other man's shoulder, ready to pull away if it seems to upset him more.
"It's fine. We can ask him, if you want."
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There's no helping the tension in his shoulder underneath his former comrade's touch; he's not in the best state of mind right now, and every word, every action, even just the sight of Hijikata invokes bitter regret and crushing remorse. Old wounds that continue to fester with sorrow and anger and hurt, new wounds that bleed guilt and despair over his absence as his friends perished while he slumbered in blissful, ignorant death, they rip and tear at his soul.
But a moment passes, and finally the tension eases, and with his panic all but shocked out of him from that kind touch, Yamanami is able to find his calm again. Up goes that mask again, but there's a hint of a genuine light in his eyes. The lines of his face fills with concern at the edges, and sadness shows through all the cracks in his smile.
"...thank you. I would like that." The soft tone says more than the words do: What happened to you after I died? How bad had it been? Is there anything I can do to share your burden? But Yamanami doesn't give voice to those thoughts, at least not yet. There will be time for them soon.
The monk kindly offers them not only the cups, but also a small, quieter corner of the temple that faces the garden. The truth would be too ridiculous, so Yamanami had simply said they would like to toast a dead friend, and the monk kindly obliges their request. Yamanami fills Hijikata's cup before his own, and sets the sake bottle to the side. The short break --getting the cups and finding the small area-- had been done in silence, and Yamanami had seized the moment to compose himself. But now they are facing each other, and Yamanami knows he has plenty to answer for.
"...I never imagined we would meet each other again, much less as gods." A weak chuckle accompanies that weak statement: it's a useless opener for conversation, but there it is. "How are you faring, Hijikata-kun?"
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"I don't think this is exactly what anyone would have predicted."
Both of them, he thinks, were ready to accept death when it came for them. They were ready to be finished. Even if he didn't go seeking it out the way Yamanami did, he had spent his own fair share of time waiting for death to come and take him, thinking it would be over then.
As to how he's faring now... well, that's a complicated question, and to tell even the half of it seems like more answer than a polite, perfunctory inquiry really asked for.
He's spilled his heart already, in the last few days. He can keep it controlled today, can't he?
"It's... been a long time. I've been living on the Far Shore since the tail end of sakura season, so around a month now." He considers stopping there, then adds, "Souji's with me. My shinki. Ayumu's around, too -- some kind of Western fire goddess, as I understand it."
Then, with a shrug: "It's not bad. The work here, I mean."
Fighting to protect everyone without having to turn his sword on people. That's not bad at all.
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"It sounds like you're adjusting well to godhood. I'm glad to hear that."
And this, he is utterly sincere in. If anyone deserves a better life, a shot at godhood, then it's only right that that person should be the fearless vice commander of the Shinsengumi.
His drink remains untouched, his hands folded on his lap. Compared to the earlier mess he'd been over the cups, Yamanami's now the very image of calm and composed. But Hijikata should know better; underneath the still waters run vicious currents that drag Yamanami's thoughts down a dark abyss, the desire to know more about his friend combating with the shame of thinking that he has the right to ask at all.
So he continues on with the pleasantries, the niceties. "Yamato-san told me that you're now Hachiman? The god of warriors...that suits you very well, Hijikata-kun."
There's a pause. A moment of internal wrangling, fighting against that voice in his mind that mocks his concern for Okita. Because if he had truly cared about Okita, he would never have put Okita in the position that he had. He would never have used Okita to teach Hijikata a lesson. Who's the manipulator now? The voice sneers, and for an instant his right hand, hidden underneath his left, tightens into a trembling fist.
In the end his desire to know wins out, but it's not for the first time that his smile grows strained, his voice beginning to falter. "If...if I can ask. How is Okita-kun?"
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And he can't quite bring himself to hold back on Yamanami completely.
"He struggled, back then." He doesn't have to say when -- of course Yamanami knows exactly when he's talking about. He turns his cup around in his hands, but doesn't drink. "He thought until the end that if he brought you home to us, we'd manage to work things out between us. Everything... The way it all turned out came as a shock to him. It was hard for him to handle."
But he's not here to blame Yamanami, even if he has to speak up that much for Souji's sake. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly.
"But he doesn't remember any of that now, so it's not going to hurt him anymore. He's... he's been happy here, so far. Only has to fight with ayakashi. Fusses over me a bit." For a second, he halfway smiles. "He's making a lot of friends. Took him all of half a day to adopt a few hundred ducklings for the shrine. He hasn't really changed that much."
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Okita's haunted face follows him to his dreams; he may have been granted a second life, but he relives his death over and over and over in his sleep. And he's glad for it: there has to be some kind of punishment for what he did to Okita. For all the moral grand standing he pulled over Hijikata, he's really no better than the man. He had, in essence, tricked Okita into being his second.
So Yamanami bears with the ache in his heart and his side. His gaze drifts downwards, unable to face his friend out of shame and sorrow. Hijikata's last comment about Okita and the ducklings prompts a quirk at the corner of his mouth, but it's really a weak attempt at a smile.
"That's good. I'm glad he won't remember...any of it."
I'm glad he won't remember me goes unspoken. Yamanami straightens his posture, looking straight back up at Hijikata again. His expression is hollow. Remorseful. But he's not going to look away from all the pain he's caused from his short-sightedness. If this is what his guidance has wrought then by the gods, he needs to feel this pain. Heaven knows Hijikata must have borne it for everyday after Yamanami's death.
"I'll do my best to keep my distance from him. It's probably for the best."
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"There was one day of knowing you that he regretted, and years of knowing you that he cherished. I of all people know how much easier it is to tell yourself he's better off without you and ignore him..."
He knows how tempted he's been to do the same with Yamanami.
"...but don't forget that. It hardly seems fair to deny him a choice in the matter again."
A low blow, perhaps, and a little closer to the way he's used to talking to Yamanami -- but he's always been protective of Souji, in his strange way, so perhaps that's no surprise.
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The admonishment stings hard...but it's also just. And it hurts because it's also the truth: forcing Okita into that position had been unfair on the younger man, drawing him into a miserable conflict that he really shouldn't have had to deal with.
The earlier part of Hijikata's advice is sound. In fact, those are words that Yamanami himself would have fielded to someone in a similar position. His own medicine leaves a bitter taste. But Yamanami isn't convinced that those words apply to his situation, and he's sticking to his position about this.
"He doesn't remember what happened. What I did to him was cruel and wrong, and it's not fair for me to take advantage of his memory loss and put myself back into his life after everything that's happened."
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He draws his shoulders inward, as if to lessen the aggressiveness that his sheer size and strength can imply, his eyes briefly downcast. He sips at his sake, and hardly tastes it.
"You weren't there for his last years." It's not an attack, not even an admonishment, just... just a fact.
"No matter how badly you hurt him that once... I think he was happier with you in his life than without you."
He wraps his cup in his hands, trying not to fidget, carefully softening all the harsh edges of his voice.
"He didn't have much to smile about, near the end. He'd lost so many of us, we were starting to lose the war even then, his body was turning on him... I'm glad that you did't have to see him like that. It was hard."
It's frightening, exposing this much of his own vulnerability to a man who he's starting to realize really hurt him. It's more frightening to think that this, too, might be mistaken for blame, for another effort to manipulate him. But he takes a deep breath, and pushes forward.
"So now that I have another chance... I want to protect his smile this time. You of all people know how much I owe to him. And I think... I think that if it's not too difficult for you, he would be happy to know you again."
He smiles, thin and sad, down at his cup. "I could leave you alone, if that would help."
It's been a long, long time since Yamanami was happy to see him, after all, and he hasn't forgotten.
1/2
The sharp pain and sudden stickiness in his palm tells him that he's gripped the cup hard enough till it's cracked, fragments piercing the skin and mingling blood with sake. Yamanami doesn't even notice; his whole body is trembling, his back hunched over as he tries to contain those emotions with him.
"I won't--I won't take that path again. I wont-!!"
I won't abandon you again. That's what he wants to say.
2/2
"I read about what happened. I know how it ended."
The blessing and curse of living in the internet age, where information is always at one's fingertips as long as there's a smartphone around. He draws a steadying breath and straightens up. No apologetic smile, but every line on his face is etched in deep remorse and regret.
"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you. For everyone."
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That, he supposes, is why he was so much more on the receiving end of those outbursts than any of the others. Because he was the one who kept pushing him into those corners, who kept making him feel like there was nothing to do but lash out or give in.
"Sannan..."
The familiar nickname comes out before he can stop it, as if his voice acted on its own, unaware of the distance that exists between them now. His hand reaches as if he wants to comfort him, to check on his wound, but he does stop himself before he comes anywhere near actually touching him, worry and hesitation clear in his eyes.
For a moment, he's silent, taking in Yamanami's words, trying to read the things between them. He thinks back on their friendship, and on the years after it...
"We all had our own paths. You... you weren't made for the one I took."
He runs a hand through his own hair, mussing it up a little. "That isn't a bad thing, really. War isn't a place for good people. In the end, I don't regret most of the sacrifices I chose to make...
"But I tried to force you to walk the road that was mine to walk, and I was wrong to."
I wanted you to stay with us, so I tried to make you more like us. It sounds so selfish, when he really looks at it, but he never realized it until he'd already crossed far too many lines.
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"And Tetsu-kun isn't a good person? What about Kondou-san?" Yamanami challenges that assumption back, shaking his head. "Hijikata-kun, you tried to save me, and you were willing to break the very rules you drafted to keep me alive." A bitter chuckle. "I was just too short-sighted to see that. Too "idealistic", too naive, to have hung on so tightly to my so-called virtues.
What good did those virtues do me anyway? I chose the easy way out and broke my promise to you. I should have been stronger, I should have stayed, even if I had to bloody my hands all over again."
It hurt to talk about what happened. To recount every mistake, every misstep, and to realise that he had done so much more harm to Hijikata than good. But it was also good to feel this hurt, to be punished for his sins. He wanted someone to know what an awful coward he had been. And who else better for that then the man who was ruthless in his speech, one who abhorred cowards and dealt harshly with the weak.
"I'm sorry. You should have gotten someone better to be your 'rope of right'."
I'm sorry this took so long, I got really behind on tags all around ;;;;;
His voice is sharp, but it's clearer than ever who that anger is meant for. It's so clear in hindsight -- he was so stupid, he was so selfish, he was so goddamn blind...
"I asked you to hold me back, and then I wouldn't let you when you tried. I didn't think about how hard that would be for you, I didn't think about thanking you for it or making sure you still knew -- knew how much it meant to me, knew how much you meant... Of course you thought I hated you. Of course you hated me!"
He can't even blame him for that part, no matter how angry he is about how Yamanami ended things.
"You did everything anyone could have. If I regret asking you, it isn't because you weren't good enough."
His childish request, his thoughtlessness, was the first nail in Yamanami's coffin, and that's the thing he regrets about it.