#with each new thing I get better at drawing serizawa and drawing in general

[doodleplus]

Rejection//Knowing You - 1/2

Post that this comic is based on under cut!

[impracticaldemon]

An Officer & A Gentleman:  SaiChi in Edo Part II

by Impracticaldemon (Hakuouki ~ SaichiFest2018)

Words:  A LOT MORE THAN INTENDED (~ 4000) | FFN | AO3

Author's Note:

Written more or less for the prompts Moonlight/Courage (Day 1) [SaiChi], Respect (Day 2) [Saito-Amagiri BrOTP] [with a slight tip of the hat to the prompt Sake], and Spoken/Unspoken (Day 3) [SaiChi].

Originally, I'd intended each part of this story to be a 500-1000 word piece like Part I—Fear and Courage. Unfortunately, I couldn't seem to stop writing once I'd started, so this happened. From time to time, I like to indulge my curiosity—if I can call it that—and write interesting parts of the canon (game) stories from the other point of view. I hope that you enjoy the results.

Part II—An Officer and a Gentleman (Plus One Mad Scientist and a Lady)

(i) Burning Sun

It was not a short walk to the Yukimura Clinic, located as it was near the outskirts of Edo. By the time that Saitō found the small community, and then the modest home, he felt as though the sun was starting to course through his veins along with his tainted blood. Despite a well-deserved reputation for stoicism, Saitō had to concede that the sensation had gone beyond discomfort, although it was not yet at the level of full "bloodlust", as Sannan-san and Heisuke termed that brutal phenomenon.

Saitō had now suffered through bloodlust once, and had been thankful that he had been alone, and that the bout hadn't lasted long. He had avoided telling anybody, since he suspected that the Vice Commander would require him to either sleep during the day, or join the Fury Corps. Since he found being awake during the day mostly tolerable, he saw no reason to increase the burden on Hijikata-san by working only at night. The Shinsengumi leadership was too under-staffed as it was. Hijikata-san knew that he was a fury, of course, but as long as he didn't draw attention to the fact, everyone seemed content to let him continue in his position.

As Saitō approached the Yukimura Clinic, taking in the general disrepair of the front walk and the garden, his thoughts drifted briefly to Sōji, who now resided at Matsumoto-sensei's clinic instead of with the Shinsengumi. It had become something of a warning sign for him, this occasional lapse in concentration; it meant that he needed a break from the direct sunlight, at least, although rest would be better. Sōji seemed to figure often in his thoughts these days, especially in those rare moments when he allowed himself to notice how stretched-thin he felt.

His mind instantly snapped back to the present when the door flew open and Yukimura came stumbling out, eyes wide with panic. Just a step behind her was Yukimura Kōdō-san, the missing creator of the ochimizu. Saitō rushed forward, sword clearing it's sheath with a soft metallic sigh. Without an instant to spare—his task would be much harder if Yukimura were apprehended by the mysterious doctor—Saitō yelled at Yukimura to duck, and swung at her pursuer.

Fortunately, Yukimura ducked—that made things easier; unfortunately, Saitō's blade failed to connect with Kōdō-san. Aches forgotten, Saitō took up a protective stance between Yukimura and her father—her false father, if the Oni Sen-hime were to be believed. He could sense Yukimura get to her feet behind him.

"Saitō-san!"

"You should run, Yukimura," he told her calmly, measuring Kōdō's aggressive posture and almost—crazed?—expression.

"But Saitō-san—"

"Stay behind me then, and do not interfere."

"You will obey your father, Chizuru. I did not raise a disrespectful child." Kōdō didn't move, obviously still assessing his new opponent, but his tone was sharp. "Come here at once!"

"I-I don't know who you are, Father!" Yukimura was plainly agitated. It was an odd thing to say, but there was no doubt a reason. Saitō had found that Yukimura followed a certain consistent internal logic. While he didn't always understand her, neither did he find her capricious.

"I haven't changed, child. Come now, it's time for me to show you your wonderful future!"

"Yukimura Chizuru is under the protection of the Shinsengumi," Saitō stated flatly. "I also have orders to bring you—Yukimura Kōdō-san—to Hijikata-fukuchō and Sannan-sōchō to answer questions."

Kōdō-san smiled politely at him. "Let's see now… Saitō-kun, was it?"

Saitō continued to regard him steadily. He did not trust this man in the slightest, and Yukimura's agitation confirmed that there was something wrong. She'd been looking for her father for years now, and had persisted in her belief that the man who had raised her could not have understood the true horrors of the ochimizu. The Shinsengumi leadership—cynical to a man, with the possible exception of Kondō-kyokuchō—had no such illusions. Even Heisuke harboured the darkest suspicions about the man.

When Saitō's sword remained an uncompromising barrier between them, Kōdō frowned. He might be in some trouble with Kazama-sama, for having ventured out against orders (and found by the Shinsengumi dogs), but a great deal would be forgiven if he brought Chizuru with him.

Saitō heard Yukimura's disbelieving cry of horror when Kōdō's features suddenly seemed to contort and change. The mild brown eyes now glowed pale gold, and sharp white horns protruded from the man's forehead. His sudden grin displayed pointed canines, and both expression and posture reflected contemptuous arrogance. Even as Saitō's stance shifted to full combat-readiness, thin knives appeared as if by magic between Kōdō's fingers.

"You will now witness the glorious strength of the Oni! Before, I had no access to true power. I am no pureblood like Lord Kazama—or like you, Chizuru. But now, my full potential has been unleashed!"

"Father! You've taken the ochimizu? But that's—that's terrible!"

Knives flew at Saitō even before Yukimura—his foster-daughter?—had finished speaking. Despite the short range, Saitō deflected them with ease, remaining solidly between Chizuru and Kōdō. With a hiss of annoyance, the former doctor tried again. And again, Saitō deflected the knives without moving more than his arm and blade.

As the Shinsengumi had found out for themselves, the ochimizu conferred speed and strength—and near-instant healing—but not skill. Serizawa Kamo, originally joint-Commander of the Shinsengumi, had been a brute, both as a man and a leader, but he had been a phenomenal warrior. Once he had taken the ochimizu, it had required several of the current Shinsengumi's strongest officers, and Hijikata-san's best effort, to take him down. Kōdō might be strong and fast, but he was no match for a swordsman of Saitō's ability.

"…Foolish," noted Saitō, in his usual uninflected tones, when Kōdō drew forth yet more knives. He prepared to attack as soon as he had dealt with them.

Disaster struck with the third volley. Saitō remained unhurt, but one of the knives ricocheted back into Kōdō, leaving a long gash that bled freely before beginning to close. The scent of the fresh blood hit Saitō like a tidal wave, leaving him bludgeoned and reeling. The racking pain that he had been keeping at bay exploded within him, and his hands and legs started to tremble. He felt sweat spring up on his forehead as he fought for control. I am master of myself! Ignore the scent, ignore the pain. Protect Yukimura!

"Ahhhhh. I see now. You have drunk the ochimizu—you are already a rasetsu."

Saitō felt the tip of his katana waver drunkenly, as all of his effort went into remaining upright.

"Saito-san," Yukimura whispered nearby, in obvious distress. More distress than fear, noticed some part of Saitō's brain. She always did worry too much about him. It didn't… really… make sense.

With gruelling effort, he brought his blade back up to a guard position.

"My condition… is none of your… concern," he ground out in response to Kōdō.

The doctor-turned-demon cackled in triumph. It was a weird, inhuman sound, and made the situation even more bizarre than it already was.

"I'm surprised you're still standing, Saitō-kun. The sun is very bright and hot today, isn't it?"

It was. Saitō's very skeleton now felt as though it were on fire.

"And the scent of blood is so strong, so wonderful. Don't you crave it? You must. The ochimizu is poison to your frail, human body, and you need blood to ease your pain. The agony is probably driving you mad even now—your body lusts for blood, and your mind is both appalled and desperate to taste it."

He was right. Mostly. Saitō blocked out the words, fought the relentless need to lurch forward and take the blood he needed to end the pain. This is endurable. It must be endured. Instead of falling to his knees as Kōdō probably expected, Saitō's hands tightened on his sword. He would not let this man take Yukimura. He would not lose to the enemy within him.

"Kōdō." Suddenly, there was another Oni present. The deep voice, and massive frame, were all too familiar to Saitō. His eyes might struggle a bit with colour in the daytime now, but the softer light of the moon would show neatly-tied, dark red hair, and cool, summer-blue eyes.

"Lord Amagiri," murmured Kōdō, sounding shocked, even as Saitō thought the name.

Amagiri-san's presence most likely presaged disaster. The powerful Oni would have little difficulty either incapacitating or killing Saitō, in his current condition. But… there was still a vestige of hope. At the very least, Saitō would die fighting an honourable warrior, somebody who would understand who Saitō was.

"Kōdō. You must return at once. Kazama-sama did not sanction this venture."

The bigger Oni examined first Chizuru, then Saitō. His understanding of Saitō's condition was instantaneous, but silent.

"My lord! This man has drunk the ochimizu! He is a Fury! We should make sure that he is no threat to us or our plans."

Even semi-blinded by fierce sunlight, Saitō saw the look of undisguised anger and disgust that Amagiri-san turned on Kōdō. Although the outcome was still not certain, that look gave new life to hope.

"I said that you are to return at once. Kazama-sama will be very displeased with you if he finds out that you have upset Yukimura-sama. Even if you did raise her."

The ensuing silence seemed very long to Saitō, whose body felt as taut as an overdrawn bowstring. He was on his feet, his sword was more or less steady, and Yukimura was safe behind him, but he knew that he didn't have long before collapse. A warrior knew his own body.

Kōdō was clearly on the verge of arguing further with Amagiri-san, when the latter turned his gaze on Saitō. The pale blue eyes seemed somehow… regretful.

"Regardless of any action, or desire, on our part, this man is likely to fall victim to his condition soon enough. Because he is human. Because he is a Fury." Amagiri's voice was soft, but edged; his words were clearly directed at Kōdō.

For a moment, Kōdō looked taken aback, as though some part of Amagiri-san's implicit accusation had reached him. In that moment, Saitō thought he glimpsed the father that Yukimura seemed to remember—the man that he himself had never seen. Then Kōdō's features hardened back into implacable lines. He nodded curtly to Amagiri-san, his obedience a matter of yielding to a greater force, rather than loyalty, or agreement. The two Oni plainly held nothing but contempt for each other. Saitō felt Amagiri-san's regard on him one last time, and with it that same sense of regret, and then he and Yukimura were alone in front of her former residence.

(ii) Healing Moon

The worst of the immediate pain faded then, as most of Kōdō's blood was on the man's clothes. Saitō sheathed his katana, unable to conceal his relief. Then he turned to Yukimura, scanning her for any sign of hurt. She was visibly upset, which was to be expected, but her first words were—as usual—for him.

"Saitō-san, are you hurt?"

"Īe." His firm negative failed to soothe her.

"Then are you ill? Or—of course, the sun is very strong!"

"Yukimura, why did you leave the compound?" Saitō's tone was deliberately harsh. "If it had been Kazama who had arrived instead of me"—or Amagiri-san—"then you would have been taken. Why do you think I stay awake during the day? It is not pleasant." That was unfair, a little, but he was finding it harder than usual to ignore the pain.

Yukimura looked stricken, and bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Saitō-san! I apologize for causing you trouble."

"I do not require your apology. I require your explanation."

She straightened, biting her lip. She was blinking back tears, and it came to him suddenly that despite all that had happened, she was most upset because he was angry at her. His expression was no doubt forbidding.

"Hai." Yukimura's hands twisted together in front of her. "I-I wanted to search the house for any notes that might provide information about the ochimizu. About the Fury transformation really… and how to suppress the side-effects."

"Did Sannan-san ask you to do this?"

"N-no."

"Then why?"

Unaccountably, Yukimura's embarrassment seemed to deepen. "I wanted to help. Because you seemed to be in so much pain, Saitō-san."

Saitō felt his eyes widen, as his expression went from angry to startled. "I did?" He forced his features back to impassivity, so that they would show neither anger, nor surprise. Nor, he hoped, pain.

"Well… yes? It's bad enough that you don't sleep, but you stay awake all day, and I can see that it's—that is, there is discomfort."

Before Saitō could formulate a response, Yukimura squared her shoulders in the way that she always did before speaking her mind in spite of fear or anxiety. Sure enough, she eyed him a little shyly, but added: "Being physically uncomfortable, or in pain, is very tiring. I saw that a great deal when I was growing up. People got better much faster, or at least had more energy, when we—I mean—well, when their bodies were more at ease. So you see—"

"I see." Saitō looked down, both to rest his eyes, and because while he understood her point in a general way, her actions still seemed extreme. Unless she—but that line of thinking was both irrelevant and unproductive. "I left the compound unattended. Do you have further business here?"

Silently, she shook her head. Saitō found it difficult not to respond to the slight hurt in her eyes, but it was better that she learn not to worry about him so much. There was no need, and he still wasn't sure of her motives. No? Really? He ignored his own mocking thoughts—which always took on Sōji's voice these days—and turned to go.

"Ikuzo, Yukimura."

He set off at a moderate pace, and she followed obediently. Three paces, four, five… No, gods, NOT NOW! But the gods weren't listening. Saitō's legs folded under him, and his body convulsed with wracking pain. He clenched his teeth against the cries that sought to escape, and bowed his head until the first wave passed and he could master himself again—at least a little.

"Saitō-san!"

"I… I will be fine. It will pass." His voice rasped and the gasping breaths were unlikely to be reassuring, but he put everything he had into hiding the full extent of his agony. He knew that he had changed into one of them, into what he now was. White hair, red eyes; he'd seen it for himself, the last time. But what to do?

"We should go indoors. That will help, at least a little. Please come with me, Saitō-san!"

She was pleading, but it was unnecessary. Going inside, out of the sunlight, out of sight of passing pedestrians, was the only logical thing to do now. He couldn't bring himself to lean on her—wouldn't—and she seemed to know that. Instead, she made sure that his path was unimpeded, and guided him, somehow, into her home. Former home, some strange part of his mind insisted, but he didn't have enough energy to care why.

Once inside, Saitō found a space that had been recently tidied, and knelt with as much grace as he could muster—not much, he suspected. It was worse than the last time. It felt as if his body were being continuously broken apart and knit back together; it was excruciating. His right hand scrabbled at the left breast of his kimono, as though he could somehow tear the pain out of himself and find relief.

He saw movement from the corner of his eye, and then Yukimura knelt across from him, so close that they were practically touching. He became suddenly, agonizingly aware of the blood that flowed beneath her soft skin. His eyes fastened on the pulse point of her throat, and it took all his will to look away.

"Yukimura… This will pass. Do not… concern yourself." Laughable reassurance, but what else was there? He wanted her to go. Perversely, he also wanted her to stay. He would conquer the pain, outlast it, whether she was there or not. But it would be—and this made no sense—less lonely with her there.

"Take my blood. That's what you need, isn't it? Blood?"

She was even closer now; her scent seemed to surround him. After a moment, he realized that she'd taken his hand and was peering into his face. Their knees were touching. Whether truth or fancy, he saw himself reflected in her wide, anxious eyes—the gleam of white hair, like moonlight on dark water, and two sparks of glowing crimson.

"You are… overreacting. As I said… this will pass. Then we can return."

Her mouth tightened into a straight line. He had never seen her gentle face so uncompromising. Had he looked like that when he tried to keep Kōdō from her? Or Kazama? His fingers dug desperately into his chest; he could feel his nails even through his kimono and sweat-soaked under-kimono. His blood stung and boiled under his skin. His bones continued to stretch and crack and reform; he assumed—hoped—that this was just how he visualized the pain. It was endurable because it had to be endured.

Saitō felt Yukimura's hand lift from his and had to stop himself from reaching after her. It was no doubt better this way, somehow. The sound of a blade leaving its sheath immediately drew his attention, and he stared as Yukimura touched the well-sharpened edge of her kodachi to her finger. Blood instantly welled up from the cut, viscous and red. He swallowed convulsively.

"Saitō-san. Please… This cut is nothing—I'm an Oni, it will heal quickly. So take what you need."

This is wrong. This is not what I want. I want… I want to protect you. His thoughts were confused, almost incoherent. He forced his gaze away from her bleeding finger, trying to think rationally. Rationally, it made sense. Blood would allow him to function more efficiently. According to the little—the very little—that Heisuke would say on the subject, those who drank blood remained in control of themselves for longer and with less effort. However, something in what he hadn't said suggested that there was a price to pay. Also, if it was the pain that drove furies mad—and the constant anticipation of pain—then surely a strong man, who wasn't afraid of pain, could do well enough without blood? But… almost everyone broke under torture, eventually. Saitō was uncomfortably aware of that truth.

He finally met Yukimura's eyes again. She wasn't afraid—not of him, not of what he might do. She wanted him to do this. The combination of that determined—almost affectionate?—gaze, and practical reality, decided him.

Oddly, the ache in his body seemed to fade a little just by making the decision. Awkwardly, feeling all the strangeness of the situation, Saitō lowered his mouth to Yukimura's finger. He tentatively tasted the blood, and had to pause a moment to contain the rush of feelings and sensation. It was tremendously disconcerting, and he automatically sought to conceal his reaction. His body craved the blood—and it was sweet beyond words, her blood. But there was more to it than that. It was as though he hadn't quite realized how intimate this was. He—

"Saitō-san?"

He raised his head immediately, once more searching her expression. Yukimura looked puzzled and concerned. Her cheeks were flushed, but he lacked the perception just now to divine the reason. Was she in pain?

"Does it hurt? Your finger?" His voice was raspy, but sounded moderately polite, and only a little more uncertain than usual. Good.

"Oh—no, no, not at all!" She smiled at him, and he immediately forgave her the lie. Why shouldn't she be allowed the same pride as any other? "But, um, you stopped."

"I see." He gently took her hand in his, and once again pressed his lips to the cut. This time, he was better prepared, his emotions better-controlled. Bit by bit, as he carefully sucked at her finger, the worst of the pain subsided. It made it more difficult to ignore other sensations, and he hoped that she wouldn't be able to tell how arousing this was—to be so close, to be sharing something so private. He kept his eyes mostly closed, so that he wouldn't accidentally meet her gaze and embarrass them both.

As soon as he could bear to stop, he forced himself to allow the cut to heal completely, and slowly lifted his mouth from her small hand. It wasn't the blood that was so difficult to give up, although the Fury within him would gladly have taken more, it was the touching. The whole time that his lips had been against her skin, it had seemed as though they were in their own safe, quiet place—a place of moonlight, and cool night air, and soft colours. He couldn't understand it, and it bothered him. He had come to guard her, and yet she had been his refuge in a way he couldn't explain.

What's more, there was nothing muted about the way that his heart was hammering in his chest. The coil of tension low in his abdomen, and lower still, was all heat. It wasn't an unknown sensation, but neither was it entirely familiar. Saitō strongly preferred sake to other outlets for stress, and on the rare occasions that he had been troubled by lust, it hadn't been especially difficult to set aside in favour of drills, or meditation, or drinking. Drinking provided the illusion of intimacy without requiring the real thing, physical or otherwise. And yet he here was, caught up in the desire for both physical and emotional comfort, or something like it. His mind presented possibilities for tongues and lips that had nothing to do with his condition as a Fury.

He turned away as he let go of Yukimura's hand, and forced himself to accept what had happened as no more than a rational response to necessity, followed by understandable embarrassment. It was a strange situation, after all, so it made sense that it had elicited unusual reactions. An important measure of calm returned as he straightened scarf, kimono, and sash; later, he would change the sweat-soaked under-kimono. A quick glance at the low pony-tail on his shoulder confirmed that his hair was no longer white. Then he faced Yukimura, although he wasn't quite sure what to say.

Her expression was at once shy, flustered, and determined. He had no idea what she was thinking.

"How is your finger, Yukimura?" Idiotic, perhaps, but at least reasonably conventional. He wished again that she hadn't witnessed his struggle with the bloodlust. He suspected that he was blushing, and found himself looking away.

"Oh, it's fine! Really!" Bright words, and this time mostly truthful. She wasn't in pain, but he could tell that she was—they both were—distinctly self-conscious.

After a moment's thought, he looked back at her, shoved aside the strange desire to take her in his arms, and reiterated his most pressing concern.

"I left headquarters unattended by any command-rank officer. We must go."

Yukimura blinked, no doubt taken aback by his curtness. He—once again—regretted the slight hurt in her expression, but it was better than how she would look at him if she knew that he had contemplated far from honourable possibilities.

"Alright, Saitō-san. As long as you have recovered enough?"

"I am fine."

She gave him one last, doubtful look, and then nodded. In response, Saitō pushed open the door, and stepped through into the burning heat of the sun. Fortunately, it was nowhere near as difficult to bear as it had been before. He glanced over his shoulder at Yukimura as they hurried away from her childhood home. She looked a little wistful, and he assumed it was sadness over Kōdō's cruel behaviour—after all, she had waited a long time for their happy reunion.

He would have been very taken aback to know that her thoughts were entirely on the indigo-haired man walking just ahead of her. Whatever happened, she was determined to do her best for him. Saitō-san had come to mean the world to her. Maybe one day, she would find a way to tell him so.

[END]

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