Witness Tree ~ Chapter 2

 

As Aoshi waded slowly out of unconsciousness, there was a part of him that wanted to lie very still and never wake up, and maybe that part was his self-preservation. He couldn't feel the ache of his wounds now, but he knew they were there, poorly concealed behind a curtain of painkillers.

His eyelids were heavy. Fused, as though he had spent half a lifetime asleep; his throat was too dry to manage even a quiet groan, but he lifted a hand, pinched the bridge of his nose until his vision faded back into focus. Darkness still clung to the edges of his sight; deep and cold and on the fringes of his perception. If he tried to turn his head toward those shadows, he knew they would dart away again, laughing at him dryly, dustily. Like laughter from the mouths of the dead.

Aoshi bit his lip. It felt as though he had been taken apart and put back together again. Too hastily… there were pieces missing, out of place. Lost somewhere along the way, a breadcrumb trail of cogs and gears, stretching out behind him on the road from the capital.

He was imperfect, incomplete. And somewhere to his left there were footsteps on the tatami. He hadn't heard them at first; they were quiet, unobtrusive like steps taken in a house of the dying. Aoshi felt a flash of resentment - and with it a flaring of pain in his wounds - and he pushed it aside.

He opened his mouth to call Sagara's name; he wasn't sure what he would say to the man, but he would think of something. Anything would be good enough as long as he stopped walking like he was stepping over a grave… And he didn't know what stopped him from speaking, but the words tangled in his throat and he reached instead for his kodachi. The blade was stretched like a faithful dog beside the bed, and Aoshi drew it close. Even though he was in poor shape for a fight, it was a comfort to find the weapon near. "Who's there?"

The footsteps stopped, hesitated, drew near to his bedside. Turning to face them seemed a bit too much to ask right now, but Aoshi shifted his grip on his sword.

"Oh…" The word was a startled hiss of breath, an unfamiliar voice that made Aoshi's heart pound in his throat. The man hesitated at his bedside, seemed to want to kneel beside him, but in the end he didn't. "Good morning."

He sighed quietly when Aoshi didn't reply. "Well, my name’s Etsuya, Akinari Etsuya. I'm… a friend of Sagara's. And you really shouldn't try to move. You've been unconscious for four days; we were starting to think you weren't going to wake up."

Aoshi's eyes narrowed in defiance, but he let his grip on his sword loosen. His shoulders popped stiffly as he lifted himself on his hands and set the blade aside. He glanced at Etsuya, daring him to protest, but by then the man had already turned away again. A black ribbon of hair, tied between his shoulder blades with a length of worn leather, spilled to the small of his back.

Aoshi's eyes narrowed at that turned back, and maybe it was just because of his wounds. Maybe… "Where is he?" he asked. "Sagara, I mean." It wasn't that he wanted to see him; he just wanted to know how much time he had to think of a way to explain.

"Asleep." Etsuya glanced back again, and his eyes softened a little. "He's been watching over you, you know. So… try not to hurt yourself again. He'll only worry more."

"I'm fine." But the thought of Sagara worrying about him seemed to weigh him down, and Aoshi lowered himself back to the mattress. "I'm fine…" he repeated softly.

"You're not fine," Etsuya said. "But you are very lucky to be alive. Do you think you can eat something? I think you should try."

"Lucky," Aoshi muttered. "Sure." He passed a hand over his left thigh, welcoming the pain that flashed beneath his fingertips.

Etsuya sighed. "It's a shame that you don't think so. If Souzou hadn't found you when he had…" He shook his head a little as he knelt at Aoshi's side, offering a bowl of miso, stone cold. A few strands of loose hair shifted over his shoulders. "Come on; eat something. You need it."

Aoshi's eyes shifted slowly to his face. He… didn't like this man. He had no real reason, except, perhaps, that Etsuya was quiet and honest and exactly the type of person he'd never gotten along with before. There was something about the way Etsuya spoke and moved. The way his eyes drifted subtly to the room with the screen drawn in front of it, where Sagara must have been. It was all far too comfortable. He was living here.

Aoshi glanced away as he took the bowl. Sagara wasn't alone here. Good. That… was good. "How much did he tell you?"

"About you, you mean?" Only when he was certain Aoshi was eating did Etsuya push to his feet again. "No much. He said I should be careful what I say around you."

"Good advice," Aoshi said, just to see what Etsuya would do. "You don't know what I might do."

"No," Etsuya admitted. "I don't. But you're here, now, and you're not going anywhere. Besides, it's important to Souzou."

There was something about the way Etsuya said that name that made Aoshi lose all the will he's had to bait the man. "I should have guessed as much. That's just like him."

"I suppose so," Etsuya said. "And there's nothing either of us could do to change his mind. That's just like him, too." He swept his hair back with one hand. "I have to go. Try to get some rest, all right?"

Aoshi watched Etsuya closely until he had gone, letting his breath out in a shuddering sigh when it seemed he was alone. Alone… That word had never had the same meaning before as it did right now. He felt like a rumor set adrift in a world of hard facts. What was his purpose anymore?

His breath caught sharply in his throat and he braced his body against a sudden wave of shivers. And he was still a while in the dim light of a room shuttered against the day, waiting for unconsciousness to catch up to him.

And he would have been fine, would have somehow found a way to pull himself back together, to keep himself in one piece. Another few months, a year at the most was all he would have needed. He would have been able to go through with it all, if, at that moment, he hadn't heard soft footfalls entering from the other room.

And maybe it was just the pain thinking for him, but he swore he recognized the rhythm of those steps. Though maybe they were a little heavier now than what he remembered, they were the same. And the way Sagara sighed when he knelt beside Aoshi's mattress was more weary than what he had expected, but that, too, was familiar.

Aoshi closed his eyes, though he knew it was no good pretending to be asleep. Sagara had always seen right through him, like he wasn't even there at all. He could have counted the heartbeats until a hand came down on his shoulder, gentle and reassuring.

"Hey…" Sagara said quietly. "Are you all right?" Does it hurt a lot?"

Aoshi opened his eyes, but not to look at the man. He couldn't do it right now. "I'm fine. It doesn't hurt." It did, though; it hurt like hell. They both knew it, but Sagara let it go.

"All right." He withdrew his hand, sitting back and drawing his knees to his chest. "I'm sorry I wasn't awake to check on you earlier. You look different when you're asleep, you know? Well, no, I guess you wouldn't know what you look like when you're asleep. But it's… more peaceful. Almost innocent. I think that's always been the part of you I liked best…"

"Sagara." Aoshi said the name so sharply, so abruptly, that he startled them both a little. The man turned to him and their gazes met. For a moment, Aoshi was sure that Sagara hadn't changed at all, not aged a day since they had parted. Though, his eyes were still gray, but his hair had begun to silver a little at the temples. The laugh lines at the corners of his mouth were the same, but the lines in the corners of his eyes were new.

"Was I babbling?" he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"No." Aoshi shook his head. "I mean… it's all right that you were. I met your friend. Akinari."

"Oh?" If Sagara felt anything at those words it was impossible to tell from his voice what it might have been. "He's gone now, isn't he?”

Aoshi sighed, glancing away.

"I see."  Sagara bit his lip. "You've had a rough time, haven't you? You can tell me what happened if you want. I can help you, Aoshi…"

No, he couldn't. Even if… maybe Sagara came closest to being able to understand, Aoshi needed only to look around this home, think of the way his name had sounded in Etsuya's voice to know that it wasn't nearly close enough. "There's someone running around Tokyo with your name," he said, just to have something else to talk about. "Sagara Sanosuke."

"Sanosuke?" A faint smile crawled over Sagara's lips. "I always thought, just maybe… he'd still be around. Is he… I mean, it wasn't him that…?" He gestured vaguely toward Aoshi's legs. "Was it?"

"No. Nothing like that," Aoshi assured. Sagara had sounded like he needed assurance, for just a moment then. "He's rather short-tempered, but he's not lacking in good intentions. Maybe not the brightest boy I've ever met…"

"Now I know we're talking about the same person." Sagara laughed softly. "Sagara Sanosuke…" he said, testing the weight of the name in his voice. "Thank you, Aoshi."

When he didn't answer right away, Sagara sighed, reaching out to lay his hand against Aoshi's shoulder. "Hey, this is kind of familiar, don't you think? Maybe now we're even."

"Not quite."

"No…" Sagara's hand fell away. "I guess not. Because you aren't staying, are you?"

And for some reason, Aoshi felt his throat tighten at those words. If all these years hadn't changed the way Sagara affected him sometimes, he doubted anything ever could. The man was hidden depth he couldn't even imagine. "Everything's… different now," he said quietly. "I'm not the same person you knew."

"That's not what I meant. I know you've changed." Sagara seemed to struggle with the word. It made him nervous. Strange. This man had once been ready to give his life to change a country - an entire world for so many of them - but when change drew this close to him, was small and ungrandiose and entirely meaningless, he shied away from it. Or perhaps… that wasn't strange at all. "We've all changed," he said. "So much. Sometimes I wonder who I am really, and who Sagara Souzou is, and how we've come to live in the same skin." He lowered his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I don't…"

"I know. I know, it's just…" He felt his jaw tighten, unwilling to speak the words that he knew now had to be said. "Maybe… we're the same now. All those years ago… I think I finally know what it must have felt like to lose everything."

Sagara lifted one hand, as though looking for the right way to comfort him. "Aoshi…?"

"They're dead. All of them." Aoshi swallowed hard; his voice tasted like blood, the blood that had dried on his lips and in the corners of his mouth.

Sagara's lips parted in search of something to say. "Misao?" The name was the first thing he remembered, and he clung to it like a drowning man.

"Misao…?" Aoshi echoed, and he had to look away for a moment. "No. She's in Kyoto. Safe in Kyoto. I… don't want her to know about this. There's only one thing left for me now."

"Hmm." Sagara's eyes narrowed a little. "Maybe you haven't changed as much as I thought." He was disappointed, but he didn't take his hand from Aoshi's shoulder. "I've been where you are, you know. There's no honor in it. Dying a wasted death. You don't want to believe me, but I know it's true."

Maybe Sagara hadn't changed that much, either. Still an arrogant, self-righteous, naïve little fool. If only that hadn't been the reason Aoshi had fallen for him in the first place… "I didn't want it to be you," he said. "At first I thought… it wasn't really you that had found me. I was surrounded by ghosts already, and I thought…"

"Shh." Sagara's expression softened, and he shifted his grip on Aoshi's shoulder, holding him still. "Don't move around to much. You'll tear open your wounds and ruin all my hard work. I'd never done anything like that work I did on your legs, you know. But I'd seen things like it plenty of times. Pretty good for my first try, don't you think?"

Aoshi struggled a little, but in the end he let Sagara hold him still. "Shit," he muttered. "It's a miracle you didn't kill me, Sagara."

"I take my miracles where I can get them these days." He waited until Aoshi was still before releasing him again. "Don't you?"

"I don't believe in miracles."

"Oh," Sagara said, as though he had known all along that would be Aoshi's answer. "Well, maybe it's not a miracle, but I'm still glad you're here. That I got to see you again." He pushed a few locks of damp hair from Aoshi's forehead.

"Sagara…" Aoshi reached up, catching him around the wrist and pulling Sagara's hand down to his chest. "I can't die here. There's still something I have to do. So…" He shivered. "I can't die here."

"I know. There always is." He touched Aoshi's cheek lightly with his free hand. "You're not going to die. Not if… you don't want to. You know I won't let it happen." He pulled gently away, and stood. "But you are going to be in pain for a while. And you're going to have to regain your strength. So just… stay put for a while, all right?"

Aoshi sighed. "All right...." He had no choice but to leave himself in Sagara's care for the time being. Maybe his humiliation didn't even matter, now that he'd lost everything except for this man. Or just the memories of this man. With a breathless sigh, he turned away. "Sagara, would you…?" He couldn't face the man right now, but he couldn't ask him to leave either.

But, as always, Sagara seemed to understand. "Sure. You need to rest, don't you? You must be tired."

"Yeah," Aoshi said dully. "Tired."

"Okay." He heard Sagara step back once, then again. "Get some sleep. I'll try to stay around the house today; just call if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," Aoshi whispered, and he closed his eyes as though he really intended to sleep.

 

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