What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Kunoichi

Unfortunately, peace didn't last as Hijikata turned to Kondō.

"You shouldn't tell her so much. She could still be a spy."

Anger replaced serenity at once; how dare he speak of me was if I wasn't there? Glaring daggers, I set my cup on the platter harshly.

"For whom? The terrorists that execute foreigners? Or you mean I purposefully asked Sōji to crack my head so I could infiltrate you?"

Kondō nodded by my side. "You have to admit that it seems very far-fetched. Our first captain isn't known for his magnanimity. She could have died. And who would choose to challenge Saitō if not a stranger?"

Hijikata's features morphed to surprise. Was his friend siding against him in my favour? His jaw clenched and I was surprised I didn't hear them crack. Yet, I chose to ignore the waves of aggressiveness that radiated from him.

Spending time as the Captain's page allowed me to catch more expressions than outrage and anger on the vice Commander's face. It was almost a privilege. Sometimes, even, his eyes turned soft when he watched Kondō-san; they shared a tight bond, not unlike siblings. Brothers in arms. I respected that.

"Beware," he warned over the rim of his cup. "She brought Saitō down with a wicked move. She could be Kunoichi."

"She...", Kondō started. But I'd had enough, and interrupted rudely. "She is still right there, so I'd appreciate to be talked to rather than talked about."

"My apologies, Frances-chan."

Kondō was the only one that called me by my name, even though it felt all scrambled with his accent. It felt more like a Fairancésu, with the second syllable eaten away. Yet, I appreciated the gesture of peace and bowed my head slightly.

"Sumimasen. What is a kunoichi?"

"A ninja woman," he stated, watching my face for signs of recognition. At my nod, Hijikata's eyes narrowed. I realised he had misunderstood me, so I backpedaled.

"I'm not... koitchee. But I worked with the..."

Which one would be more believable ? Trainee at Interpol, or US air force consultant ? I'd done both, and decided to go with something more down to earth, literally.

"I was a trainee with the police. This is where I learnt to defend myself."

Sort of. But not only. Most of my dirty tricks, though, where from learning krav maga in Interpol. The revelation didn't seem to please the commander one bit.

"The Shinsengumi fight fair and square. We follow the code of Bushido, under pain of death."

I snorted. "Although you don't sugar coat, you distil threats like sweets, Hijikata-san". Irony wasn't a thing in Japan, for silence followed my words until Kondō-san took a long breath. He probably felt like a father trying to appease a sibling's squabble... Given what I'd seen of the Shisengumi captains, this probably wasn't the first or the last time he played mediator.

"There will be no Seppuku for the Captain's page, Toshi."

Toshi, short for Toshizō. I carefully stored the information away, noticing how softer than Hijikata-san it sounded. So far, I had managed to learn the names of half the people I'd met in the room. Okita Sōji, the brat. Harada Sanosuke, who had fished me out of the river. Saitō Hajime, the left-handed swordsman and emerite fighter. Heisuke ... the youngest one with Chizuru Yukimura.

"She is not part of your men," Kondō added, his eyes more serious.

"Good, because I would never allow such distasteful methods."

What was it, with this man, that pushed him to insult me! I was about to jump at his throat once more, but took a deep breath. Perhaps we suffered from a case of culture shock.

"Choosing not to attack a man with his weapon of predilection is no dishonour, Hijikata-san. It is survival instinct."

Would the honorific title appease him? It apparently did, for his expression turned serious, but not murderous.

"Warriors are ready to die at anytime."

He believed in it so strongly that the warrior's spirit filled the room. That resolve shone in his eyes, and I wondered how those men walked the fine line between heroic sacrifice and wisdom. It was Kondō who answered the question for me.

"But we don't throw our lives away, Toshi."

A mournful silence filled the room, and I took the brazen initiative to pour some more tea to all of us – who knew how many rules I broke then. But no one – meaning, the Demon – yelled at me, so I allowed my gaze to get lost in the steam that rose from my ceramic cup.

As the Keeper of Time, I was appointed a task. I didn't have the luxury to die in battle until my mission was fulfilled. It didn't quite matter than I usually ignored whose life I was to save, or which set of events would cascade from my presence.

My first and most important task was to stay alive until the necklace pulled me out of the place.

"When you are fit to fight, I want you to show Saitō those moves you used. I don't want them to be exposed against people like you."

The insult didn't sting as much; I understood his reasoning. And by asking me to share my knowledge, he also acknowledged my skill and protected his captains. So I nodded my assent, then closed my eyes to enjoy the scent of sencha tea. That, and my head was swimming from the confrontation. Damn dizziness, how long would it take to go away!

"Stop pressing my page, Toshi."

Kondō's firm voice caused the Vice Commander to rise beside me. I didn't spare him a glance, but saw, from the corner of my eyes, the numerous plaits of the grey hakama reorganise in a shuffle of fabric. He didn't bow on his way out; I noted it was a sign of closeness.

The Captain sighed by my side, but I kept my senses engulfed in the tea. Mmm. I loved it.

"I'm sorry about him. Toshi is very protective of us all."

I only smiled as affection and exasperation laced in his voice. I could understand protectiveness when you faced enemies and death, recalling a less than heartfelt welcome from another man, in another time.

"He carries a heavy burden," I murmured, sipping at my tea. "This tends to make people paranoid, and I'm not exactly conventional."

The great man closed his eyes a moment. "Hai. Being responsible for people's safety is not easy." I heard what he wasn't saying; he understood, and wished that his friend learnt to be diplomatic. Needless to say, that it would be like trying to change the course of a river; some warriors were just blunt to the core. Tristan would have been an abysmal diplomat if he'd lived.

"I've met worse."

Kondō's eyebrows knitted in surprise; his Oni Vice Commander stroke fear in the heart of Kyoto's bandits. He didn't imagine, one bit, how civilised Hijikata was compared to the men of the fifth century.

"Really?" The Captain's curiosity was so genuine that I decided to share a piece of my past story with the knights. I just kept the date, and the Arthurian legends out of my tale.

"Well, you see, there was this gruff scout whose trusted friend was a Hawk..."

And thus was the day I taught a Samuraï about Tristan, knight of the round table, who had nearly crushed my windpipe in suspicion, before deciding I was a little fairy, and not a witch.

And here, now, I was a Kistune.

In ancient Roma, I was the red witch.

Well, nothing new for the Keeper of Time.