What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

... and bullets

But I was still a wildcard, too dangerous to his men.

"Come on, Toshi. Let her demonstrate. You can tail her with your katana out if you're fearful."

"As if I needed to draw," he ground out, voice low.

Iaido. The art of killing with a draw. Saitō had spoken of it; I had yet to witness such a feat. Yet, right now, I had no doubt that the Oni Commander could fell me with a single blow. Despite my extensive training with the sword, I couldn't ignore the way those men lived. The Bushido was infused in their bodies.

"May I?', I asked, eyes still locked with his.

He nodded imperceptibly, and my fingers found the beloved wood. The need to caress it was quelled by Hijikata's angry stare. I didn't understand why they were so riled up about a bow. Sarmatians had perfected the art in the fifth century; why did Japanese warriors felt so excited over it, a thousand years later? Who knew? I shrugged, and stood. I was nowhere near Galahad or Tristan's skill with it, but I was pretty decent. Training with an elvish archer had its perks.

The air was cold, wetness permeating, plunging the area in an eerie silence. The fog created volutes over the piece of garden, clinging to the trees while the sun tried to pierce it. I walked into the open, closing my woollen mantle around me tightly. Kondō-san brought me a few of my own arrows. He pointed to straw dummies further away, and I nodded.

"I'll have to step a little closer. But Bors and Tristan could hit that from five hundred yards away. They were stronger, and had greater skill than I."

The number caused Sanan-san to gasp albeit he remained hidden on the engawa, engulfed by the shade. Strange; my hands were already cold. The others seemed to be chasing the little heat provided by the light, and he fleeing it.

"Surely you jest," he chanced, his posture stiff.

Memories of a frozen lake, high in the Scottish mountains, caused a shiver to run up my spine.

"Nope. I've seen it."

"This is remarkable."

I nodded, pride filling me; the praise of skilled warriors over my former comrades gave me the determination to do them justice.

"They were incredible marksmen," I stated, showing them the bow's profile. "It comes from the shape. The double recurve give more power than a straight bow. For the same draw, you can pack much more strength without having to be too strong."

"Show us," Hijikata-san commanded.

I took a deep breath, and took my stance. I couldn't see the frowns, but imagined them well enough as I used an open stance, rather than a closed one. I'd seen Galahad and Tristan shoot so often with the double recurve; on horseback, they were way more relaxed than a standard archer.

I set the arrow in place on the outside of the bow – an offending gesture to European archers, but I had no clue how they practised, here. It was little wonder Sarmatians were so good at firing arrows; it was much faster to reload from the outside than the inside. My fingers brushed the feathers, then moved backwards to grip the shaft. The target taunted me in the midst of whitish volutes, and I kept it in sight as I pulled at the cord.

A sharp pain shot up my arm and I hissed. Damn it! I'd never be able to pull the cord all the way back with that stupid muscle sliced! Alarmed, Kondō-san took a step forward.

"Sumimasen, I had forgotten about your injury. You need not demonstrate today."

Rolling my shoulder, I just shook my head in his direction.