Hijikata shot a look at the kid, listening and yet not listening without a change of expression. The boy's presence did more to stop Hijikata than his word; he'd had every intention of leaving, but the presence of a human roadblock closing off his right side made it clear enough that he should stay.
When Homura spoke again, Hijikata returned his stare to its original target. It didn't surprise him to hear that there was a "he" watching; Hijikata had spent enough time on the bulletin to know that this whole gang of their was pretty much all in each other's ceilings. Disguised handwritings and veiled threats...none of it was anything new to Hijikata. Working from the shadows, remembering that every man out there was a potential enemy except for those that you'd bound with your own hands... Hijikata had seen it everywhere in Edo, smelled it everywhere from the highest offices of the Shogunate to that lowest circle of Yoshiwara. It was what everyone was, at heart, those men who held words in higher esteem than their swords when it came to persuasion. That kind of man...
That kind of man was everywhere.
But the one Hijikata had sworn to protect was not.
His eyes sharpened and hardened when Homura mentioned Kondo. So Homura'd remembered. Yet another example of the way the man before him intended to use him--expected him to be played like Madonna by her last man, lowering his position and yet offering him a chance up, like he'd be a fool not to take it.
Maybe he would be. Maybe not.
Hijikata kept listening: pretty words arranged persuasively together, designed to strike chords and feelings and turn hearts. Words from men like this were always hiding something: Hijikata much preferred it when Homura was telling him that he didn't give a damn whether people killed Hijikata rather than trying to pretend he actually gave a damn abou furthering anyone's interest but his own. Revenge and truth and "warrior spirit"...none of that mattered to him. Not here, not without that someone. He wasn't like the yorozuya, "always fighting a war somewhere far away" for the sake of some idealistic vision. No...Hijikata had always fought to protect one thing, something that wasn't here. But something that he would give up everything and more to get back.
A sword: that was the only thing that'd struck him about Homura's speech. It kept his feet grounded despite the taste this entire conversation was leaving in his mouth--taking orders always did that. But unlike at home, without the Shinsengumi to support and Kondo-san to follow...he was free.
I don't have to.
"You want me to be your dog?" Hijikata said with a smirk, wondering what it was with overlord-types and invading your personal space when they wanted.
"Come and fetch when you call, all for the sake of some bone you might not deliver?"
no subject
When Homura spoke again, Hijikata returned his stare to its original target. It didn't surprise him to hear that there was a "he" watching; Hijikata had spent enough time on the bulletin to know that this whole gang of their was pretty much all in each other's ceilings. Disguised handwritings and veiled threats...none of it was anything new to Hijikata. Working from the shadows, remembering that every man out there was a potential enemy except for those that you'd bound with your own hands... Hijikata had seen it everywhere in Edo, smelled it everywhere from the highest offices of the Shogunate to that lowest circle of Yoshiwara. It was what everyone was, at heart, those men who held words in higher esteem than their swords when it came to persuasion. That kind of man...
That kind of man was everywhere.
But the one Hijikata had sworn to protect was not.
His eyes sharpened and hardened when Homura mentioned Kondo. So Homura'd remembered. Yet another example of the way the man before him intended to use him--expected him to be played like Madonna by her last man, lowering his position and yet offering him a chance up, like he'd be a fool not to take it.
Maybe he would be. Maybe not.
Hijikata kept listening: pretty words arranged persuasively together, designed to strike chords and feelings and turn hearts. Words from men like this were always hiding something: Hijikata much preferred it when Homura was telling him that he didn't give a damn whether people killed Hijikata rather than trying to pretend he actually gave a damn abou furthering anyone's interest but his own. Revenge and truth and "warrior spirit"...none of that mattered to him. Not here, not without that someone. He wasn't like the yorozuya, "always fighting a war somewhere far away" for the sake of some idealistic vision. No...Hijikata had always fought to protect one thing, something that wasn't here. But something that he would give up everything and more to get back.
A sword: that was the only thing that'd struck him about Homura's speech. It kept his feet grounded despite the taste this entire conversation was leaving in his mouth--taking orders always did that. But unlike at home, without the Shinsengumi to support and Kondo-san to follow...he was free.
I don't have to.
"You want me to be your dog?" Hijikata said with a smirk, wondering what it was with overlord-types and invading your personal space when they wanted.
"Come and fetch when you call, all for the sake of some bone you might not deliver?"
He smirked.
"I'm not that cheap."