Chapter Text
Saito’s never been one to stray from the less-than-glamorous side of his duty.
Hijikata once expressed his regret - that he inevitably hoists the dirty work on the young Captain. They’re tough jobs, the ones he throws to his subordinate - the kind that needs to be done with a measure of finesse, but could only be left to those with whom he felt an immeasurable amount of trust.
Saito understands this, and as has become characteristic of the stoic captain, accepts his appointments with somber dedication. It's the least he can do for what he has received in return - a home in the form of a ragtag group of people that would support his path of the warrior and give him a place to feel content.
He's back in Edo, the first time since he rejoined his peers in Kyoto. They've waited for too long without a word from the mysterious doctor and his medicinal curse, and with an air of reluctance, Hijikata had finally resigned himself to the idea that perhaps something has occurred beyond their control.
Not that the water of life could truly be controlled, if the previous experiments were any indication.
After a discussion with a local doctor - Matsumoto, if he remembered correctly - they had managed to uncover not only the location of his clinic but the existence of a daughter he's both carefully raised and deliberately concealed there.
It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, dragging innocents into this twisted world; but, perhaps she's not. Saito has always felt there was something off about Kodo, and he had little expectations for the daughter of such a man. Despite wanting to maintain a measure of respect for the fairer sex, he is more than aware of his duty.
There's mild movement from the house he's spent the better part of three days observing, a comfortable home, with few distinguishing characteristics. There is a bit of a shadow in the farthest window, a flash of dark hair, and then it's gone, settled once more.
He's not certain what this particular job will entail, whether the girl will fight or confess, but he keeps his observations clinical. She spends most of her time reading, pouring over medical texts with so many pages they may very well match her weight. Other moments she cleans, tends the garden with painstaking care, smiling brightly at the flowers that are still blooming even as a crisp breeze begins to sprout in the air.
Saito isn’t sure what to make of the observations. He wishes it to be nothing more than a young girl attempting to maintain the remains of her father’s clinic. Yet, the small bottle of substance powerful enough to render grown men into beasts haunts him, and with the memory, his resolve strengthens.
It’s the fourth night he’s spent hidden in the shade of an out-of-season cherry blossom tree, producing enough shade to keep him covered during the day and shadowed throughout the night.
It’s not the only location he’s scouted. There’s a blind spot on the roof of the shop next door, and a small cover behind her house that offers him an excellent view of her living area.
There’s been minimal contact with those outside the quaint neighborhood - something he finds odd for a young girl. She went to the market once to stock up on necessities, and though she seems awfully close to many of the merchants, she didn’t associate with many her own age.
He wants to find it bizarre, yet a part of him can only sympathize. He’s never related well to his peers, either.
He’s leaning against the tree when everything shifts.
Something is wrong, Saito notes. There’s a change in the wind, leaving the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. His sword hand itches, ready to strike, and his eyes flash back to the girl. She’s smiling absently as she strokes a fire, a delicious smell wafting from her kitchen.
No. She’s not the issue here.
Saito feels the stranger before he hears him, the low, drawling voice a mere afterthought as his sense heightens and adrenaline climbs. There’s a current in the air, like the contained energy before a storm.
“And who are you?”
He grabs the hilt of his weapon, subtly prepared to draw at any moment. Saito turns slowly, fully prepared to face the worst.
Instead, the men he’s greeted with fail to meet his expectations, but they do serve to establish new ones. A bulky man towers over them, a placid expression painting his gaze. His positioning is strategic, just behind the shorter man’s shoulder, a faithful guardian. It’s familiar - Saito has found himself in a similar spot with his own commander. There’s something intimidating, but subjective, observing the situation with a mindful eye. He’s not someone without reason.
It’s the central one that gives Saito the mildest measure of pause.
His appearance would be enough to draw attention, blonde hair and maroon eyes that very nearly resemble that of the Furies, but it’s the aura of scantily cloaked power he so clearly emits that encourages Saito to crouch into a fighting stance.
The man raises a trim eyebrow, and there’s something in the act that seems almost lazy. All of his movements are lethargic, yet purposeful.
There’s something deadly there, and Saito is all too aware that he is outnumbered.
“No one of consequence,” he answers smoothly, eyes flashing back to the house. The girl is no longer there, and his stomach churns.
Perhaps she is more attentive than he previously gave her credit for.
“Be wary,” the largest man warns, his eyes never straying from his enemy. “He is a warrior.”
“I find your lack of faith,” the central man draws his sword with an apathetic flare, “...disturbing.”
Saito stays focus, a hand moving to grasp the hilt on his right hip. There is an energy in the air, a current, nearly palpable in its strength. He’s not dealing with the typical rogue ronin, usurping peace for the simple sake of anarchy.
No, he sighs, watching every move with rapt attention, these men are not to be trifled with.
Then there is chaos.
The stranger smirks, a smooth event coated by disdain, and he’s gone. Saito turns, fueled by intuition and what he interprets as a gut instinct, just narrowly avoiding the blade.
How did he move that quickly?! Saito’s breathing is sharp, but he doesn’t give himself enough time to dwell, instead pulling out his own blade to deflect the impending blows.
He has to get on the offensive, he knows, but the man is fierce. He moves much faster than Saito anticipated, and though he’s keeping up with him, there is a nagging sense that this interloper is holding back.
“What are you doing?!” A voice calls, filled with unfiltered panic.
Saito’s eyes stray for just a moment and is greeted with the sight of a frantic Yukimura Chizuru rushing over to them. There’s something in her eyes that gives him pause, a look of consternation overrun by an overarching sense of concern, and he’s struck with overwhelming clarity.
She has nothing to do with this.
Her yell has successfully attracted the attention of his enemy and using the opportunity, Saito places himself between the girl and his foe. He glances at her, sharply, biting out a warning.
“Stay back.”
She’s at a loss, he can tell, especially when the mysterious blond laughs with an air of contempt, “It seems she has a loyal guard dog. How sweet.”
Saito scowls, wondering just who this man is and why he seems so interested in the doctor’s daughter. She appears unfamiliar with them - if the way she seems to place herself even further behind him is any indication.
He knows he’s hovered too long, too lost in his thoughts, when he hears the girl gasp.
“No!”
Saito feels his heart drop as he directs his attention to where the stranger should have been, where he was just moments ago.
He moves solely on instinct.
There’s a sharp pain from his flank, the feeling of steel cutting through flesh and then being carelessly removed. He knows that had it not been for her warning the wound would have been fatal. Blood leaks from between his fingers, a surreal feeling as he applies pressure to the wound.
He’s struggling to hold himself up, already feeling affected by the precise injury, but refuses to let his guard down any further. The blonde one is smiling, a mixture of victory and amusement.
Saito scowls with all the ferocity of a wolf who’s been backed into a corner. He won’t be toyed with my someone who strikes when their competitor’s back is turned. It’s sad that such skill is wasted on a man with such little honor. What a pathetic excuse for a swordsman.
He notices the red-haired man is looking off into the distance, distractedly. There’s a careful frown on his face as he watches the road.
Then there’s a light, a neighbor in the distance peeking out of his doorway. He had clearly begun to take note of the commotion and come to investigate. Saito can only hope he doesn’t decide to venture past the threshold. He isn’t certain he could protect two unarmed civilians in his current state.
Fortunately, it doesn’t seem he will have to. The larger man’s voice comes out in a wisened rumble. He had been standing back, analyzing the fight but ready to intervene should it come to that. “We should leave. It would be foolish to draw any further attention to ourselves, Kazama-sama.”
Saito half expects him to ignore the warning when the man - Kazama - sighs resignedly. “Very well. Keep her safe for me, will you?”
Kazama turns away from them, disappearing into the night like a wraith. His protector offers a nod, a curious show of respect, and follows.
The adrenaline leaves Saito in a rush, and it’s by sheer strength of will alone that Saito remains standing. The wound is a throbbing reminder of the girl who, when he turns to look at her, is already rushing to his side.
“You saved me,” she smiles, and though she knows he’s dangerous, she’s unexpectedly open.
I was sent to kidnap you. To watch you. I’m not your friend, stranger.
But her heart is firmly on her sleeve and her eyes are glowing, and as the moon reflects in her irises he can feel something within him give away.
He's reeling, though he can't be certain if she's the cause or if it's the blood loss. The wound on his stomach further darkens the black of his kimono, and he feels himself sway, his body finally giving way beneath the pressure.
He hears a distant yell, and then he is on the ground, cold.
All he can see his Yukimura Chizuru kneeling over him, a look of concern marring her pretty features, the moonlight illuminating her with an ethereal quality.
His vision goes dark.