What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Self-defence

The captains had gathered, Oni-Vice commander included, so that I could show Saitō the moves I'd pulled on him. My state of dress didn't seem to faze them; a tunic and large flowing pants weren't too scandalous. Good. Still, I wondered if a hakama wouldn't be an easier way to blend in.

This being said, I was actually impressed with the captain's level of skill. Saitō seemed unassuming and thin, but the speed with which he unsheathed his sword was nothing to laugh at. And once the basted blade was in his hand, there was just no way around it. That man was unbeatable. Worse, he knew some jujitsu and other martial arts parades; he could use his feet and fists just as efficiently as his blade.

The only solution was to catch him off guard with exotic moves. Krav maga, or acrobatics. Okita's persistent cough, in the background, caught my ear. Damn, this was one hell of a cold. Even though he still behaved as a brat, I felt bad for him. A smack upon my hand called my attention back to my opponent.

"Focus, Kitsu-san."

"Erm. Sorry," I sheepishly responded. The nickname seemed to be there to stay; it was cute. All because of the red henna I used, the symbol of the Keeper of Time.

"So we've established, by now, that you are much more skilled than I am."

Saitō didn't respond, his face blank. But the captains did in my back, and I ignored Okita's annoying smug tone as he exclaimed, 'no shit, she's a fast learner'. I was funny to have irony used back on me. Still, my opponent's features didn't move an inch.

Damn that poker face.

"Anyway. Given your reactions on the night I challenged you, I figured that I would have no chance to beat you with the sword. So I intentionally used a self-defence move to get inside your personal space, because I gathered any sane human being would rather run from a swordsman so skilled."

Okita's cough was assorted with a 'you bet'. But it wasn't his voice that gave me pause, as much as the conviction in Hijikata's voice. "Anyone but a Samurai"

The Commander's stern reminder told me I was walking on eggshells. So I accepted his comment with a nod and set to demonstrate, once more, the nasty moved I'd pulled on Saitō. I swatted his blade aside with a tanto, and made to hit his nose, then, pulled at his arm again. The swordsman went with it, mimicking how he'd been pushed off balance to facilitate the slow motion demonstration.

Once I'd stolen his bokken and twisted his arm back, Shinpachi actually whistled.

"Dishonourable," I heard Hijikata's grumble.

"But efficient," I glared, taking the others captains aback. Who dared challenging their Commander when in such a foul mood? Years ago, I would have trembled in my boots. But I'd grown. Faced nasty things, elf lords, princes, Kings, knights and foul beasts, and survived. If Hijikata didn't want to accept ninja methods, it was his deal. But to impose it upon his men who might face the challenge pissed me off.

"I'm not telling you to fight this way. Just trying to give you tips on what to expect, and how to protect yourself from it."

My eyes were burning coals, right now, boring holes into Hijikata's unsettling gaze. I felt his hackles rise, and the man strode to me confidently. Saitō immediately stepped aside, face blank but eyes worried. Someone gasped in the captain's midst; I ignored it, glaring back at the Oni Vice Commander as if my life depended on it. This was a challenge, and backing down would definitely label me as weak. Respect would be earned, or lost in this very moment.

I had no choice.

Hijikata extended his hand to Saitō in a silent command; the younger man handed him the bokken before stepping away.