What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Luck can only bring you so far

And there we go, plunging into Hakuouki's world. Get ready for the ride !

Some would say my luck had run out when I'd stumbled on those three idiots swordsmen that dared attack me in the deserted street I'd popped in. But the barest of swishes with my elvish blade had sent them running, yelling 'Kistune, kistune'. Or perhaps, given the whispers I got as I walked, it came from the red of my long hair that danced while I walked. Or my foreigners' features. I had not figured that out yet.

Some would say that luck had run out when I'd ended in Japan without having time to work on the culture, tradition and history of the Edo period. Too bad; I had procrastinated a little too much before my business trip, the language classes and research ending up squished in favour of a phenomenal movie, Ruroni Kenshin. That was about all that I knew from Japan. Given people still wore traditional clothes – the sight was incredible, all those colours, those coiffures, the flourish and postures - I gathered the year was before the 20th century. Before occidentalising took over.

Some would say that said luck had run out when I'd eventually realised it was winter, and the night would be terribly cold. Fortunately, I still had my elvish cape, and a few supplies in my backpack. Not so much, mind you, but given I had no local money, it would have to do. Still, it was freezing, and a few lazy snowflakes danced in the air, mocking me.

Some would say that luck had run out when, in the throes of fitful sleep, I was set upon by ... monsters ? Spectra ? Zombies? Choose anything of the above. White hair, a strange jacket which colours I had trouble discerning given the feeble moonlight, and unnatural red eyes. I should have trembled in my boots at the sight of their inhuman features. Hell, I did, but the cold was as much to blame as the spectra that I was now facing. They called for blood, I unsheathed my blade and waited for them resolutely.

For sure, I wasn't enchanted; but after fighting Orcs, Uruk Hai, Trolls, ghosts and all sorts of aliens and Nazgûls – spectra of fear – I was getting a little blasé when it came to zombies. In the dark, they sure were frightening enough for children's bedtime stories. Who told their children monster's stories anyway, and complained about nightmares afterwards ? Parents were so weird, sometimes.

A hiss, followed by a rasped laugh called my attention again. My eyes narrowed; they moved with such fluidity that they seemed almost liquid. Shit. Not zombies. And then, they attacked. I lifted my elvish blade, counting on years of training honing my skills, and the magical help the sword always infused in my fighting. After a few dodges, I realised my cockiness was misplaced. Block, block, slash. It wasn't enough, and I was losing ground. Two against one was an unfair match; those half-dead guys were too fast, too strong for my abilities.

I should have gone for self-defence at once – hand to hand – but somehow, I dreaded coming any closer. What if their zombiness was a transmissible disease? So I faltered, and, pushed by their onslaught, took another step backwards. The place was deserted, no one in sight, the very reason why I'd settled here in the first place. The gentle sloshing of the river below was now covered with the metallic ring of blades crossing.

A miraculous opening offered an opportunity to dig my foot into one chest; the man stumbled barely a foot backwards before hissing at me. Shit! Whomever those men were – warriors, much more than the three from this afternoon – they were well trained. And even though I, also, wasn't the clumsiest of women with a blade, they still outmatched me. Mind running a mile a minute, I took a second to observe my surroundings, looking for an escape. Beside the river, a path ran in the darkness. Was it my chance ?

Would those zombies pursue me in the dark? Probably. Another slash tore the sword from my grasp, the blow so mighty that my arm trembled from the strain and pushed me backwards. My foot slipped on a rock, shiny with ice, and I sent tumbling... right into the river.