The sleeping man (Hakuouki modern AU - Hijikata)

Interrogatoire

"Sarah ?"

Her focus shifted, finding a pair of incredulous violet eyes fixed upon her. And no matter how discreet she'd wanted to be, her lips pulled into a sunny smile. Hair askew and sweaty, he was no less attractive that the man she'd met in the train. Toshizō wiped his forehead with his sleeve, face impassive, but eyes gleaming with a thousand questions.

They seemed to ask: why have you come ? Why now, after so long ? But most of all, she caught the imperceptible quirking of his lips. Suddenly, all the reasons that had kept her away look futile. An apology died in her throat.

Trapped in their little bubble, both failed at spotting Sōji's approach. His fist jabbed at Toshi's ribs so fast that she almost didn't see it. Toshizō's body caved by reflex, the grunt of pain the only sign that the blow had connected.

"Focus, Hijikata-san !" the youngster taunted with a laugh.

Several students gasped at the daring move, one of them openly scowling at his comrade. Kondō's indignant huff was ignored as something shifted in Toshizō's eyes. The instructor's expression turned thunderous as he descended on the youth with renewed vigour, feet gliding over tatami mats. Students scattered away from the fighting pair and Sarah watched, incredulous, the exchange of jabs, holds and countermoves.

Sōji's laughter soon died as Hijikata abandoned all pretence, intend on wiping the floor with his face. Perhaps he'd been close to his breaking point already. Both his focus and skill reminded her of the first image she'd had of him; a warrior of old, laying waste on his enemies. And right now, Sōji was the enemy. But despite the deadly dance engaged, people did not seem worried. Not as she was.

"Is that a normal occurrence ?" Sarah eventually asked the school director.

"Sōji sometimes needs a little reminder to respect his elders. But do not fret, Toshi would never hurt him," Kondō explained to her as the bulky youth escaped yet another swipe.

The young woman nodded, mesmerised, as the students watched with exasperated fondness. Eventually, Sōji found himself in a hold he could not escape and he kissed the ground with a laugh. Obviously, aikido and jujitsu were also part of the deal. That Toshizō could overpower a youth taller and bulkier than he was without any harm was a tribute to his skill.

Sōji rammed his free hand on the mat to signal his surrender, and Toshizō growled a warning in his ear. It didn't take the sneaky smile out of the youth's face, though, but he did not retort. Hijikata called the end of the session, and the students aligned at the end of the mats to bow to their teacher. He bowed back to them, Futsūrei style, before a proud smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

"Well, done, all of you. Keep it up, and we'll qualify for the nationals."

A few exclamations rose at his praise; it showed the deep respect his students held for his teachings. Then the dojo became a flurry of activities. Weapons were stowed away, armours unfastened and hakamas spread upon the mats to be folded properly. Given its asymmetrical pattern, it was a challenge altogether. Toshizō walked to the side of the mat, his gait much less assured than when fighting. Sarah took a moment to admire his form, clad in keikogi and hakama.

"Sarah ? Did you need anything ?"

There it was, the moment of truth. But in front of both his students and his best friend, she found herself tongue-tied.

"Erm... I'm sorry for disturbing your class. I'll just wait over there, don't mind me."

"I'll keep her company, Toshi. Got and get changed."

Hijikata nodded, catching the message well enough. She was here to wait for him, and so he turned around and set to remove his hakama. As she watched him fold the cloth, plait by plait, Kondō entertained her with tales of kendo and bushido. She learnt, then, that he used to be the one teaching and regretted he had so little time to indulge. He also taught her about the seven principles of bushido, represented by the seven visible folds of the hakama.

Than man was a wealth of knowledge and cultural reference, and she found herself positively enthralled by the passion with which he shared it. No wonder he'd created a school. In the background, a few whispers ran. Some, about the fact that she was a foreigner. Other, speculating whether she came to bring finances to the school. And some downright flattering, or worse, about her physique.

"She's quite difficult to miss, eh ?" one of them was saying.

"Heisuke, urusei. Hijikata will kill you."

Sarah smirked; she knew she wasn't bad looking, but here, her auburn hair and blue eyes caught much more attention than she was used to in Britain. Eventually, the trail of students started disappearing in the lockers. She spotted a few adults in the group. One of them, a lithe man wearing spectacles, stopped to greet them both; she recognised the one who had been instructing the students with armours.

"Ah, Sanan-san. Our medic."

The name lit a light bulb in her brain as she remembered Toshizō mentioning the head nurse. Did everyone in that school own a kendo degree ?

"So you are the man who stacks Hijikata-san's bag with compresses ?"

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, his grey eyes sparkling with intelligence.

"I see you are acquainted with our deputy director."

His voice was smooth as silk, coaxing, and dangerous. Unlike the boisterous cry that came from behind him in the form of a bare-chested bulky man. Sarah's eyes widened at the sight.

"Oi! Yes, spill the beans, how do you know him ?"

Taken aback by the man's bluntness, and his lack of keikogi, she found herself pretty embarrassed. Another man popped by, fully clothed but no less sweaty, an easy smile dancing on his lips.

"Now, now, Shinpachi," he chided. "That's not a way to greet a lady."

Sanan turned an annoyed look to the bulky man.

"Please refrain from greeting women without your clothes on," he scolded, a threatening undertone lacing his silky voice. Shinpachi stiffened before he blabbered an excuse and left. Sarah puzzled at the hasty retreated, finding his companion's amused gaze.

"Forgive this big oaf, he's not much of a gentleman but he means well. Hijikata-san works entirely too much, we'd be glad to see him unwind a bit. I'm Harada Sanosuke."

The standard occidental greeting would be assorted by a hand shaking, and a nice to meet you. Here, a nod would suffice. She returned the gesture eagerly.

"Sarah Mills."

The spark of curiosity that gleamed in the man's eyes didn't bode well for her, and she wondered how she was about to explain to Toshizō's colleagues their non-relationship. It was something to connect in the deserted station, but another to face his friends. For she had no doubt those people were closer to him than simple colleagues.

"So...", Harada started. "How did you meet ?"

Warmth spread in her chest at the reminder of Toshi's head lulling over her shoulder. This was a detail that she wasn't about to share with her audience; it could only bring teasing. And if she'd learnt anything about the deputy director, it was that honour was of utmost importance. She smirked.

"He played the knight in shining armour. Saved me from an embarrassing walk of shame home without shoes."

"How very unsurprising of Hijikata-kun," Sanan chuckled. "I wouldn't expect any less."

"Hai," Kondō laughed in turn. "That's all Toshi."

So her assessment wasn't too far off the mark after all. Satisfied, she started to recount how he'd bandaged her banged knee when thunder cracked in the room.

"Oi ! Why are you all crowding her ?"