What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Seppuku

If you ever wanted to know what a seppuku ceremony looks like, here's a treat for you.

3 days later.

Saitō Hajime stood by my door, face grim. For a moment, he observed my attire, gaze unnerving under the strands that partially hid his eyes. I had no idea what he was looking for. Forbidden colours, maybe? I'd kept the dark kimono, and wore a hakama over it now. The foreign woman, trying to blend in... Perhaps he found me ridiculous. Did Saitō resent me for the death of his comrades? His usual silence was, for once, so heavy. Yet, it did not know how to break it, I felt like I shouldn't.

The imaginary conversation went round and round in my head; I would apologise, and he would respond something profound like 'They chose their fates, do not dishonour them with your regrets'. This, of course, was the best-case scenario; I didn't dare imagining the worst. So I kept my mouth shut, and took advantage of the trip to watch the beauty of the temples. I'd never seen Japan before, and the architecture left me breathless.

As we walked, a deep rumble echoed in the distance. I froze at once. Canons? No, the sound was continuous, like that of a heavy truck crossing the road below an appartement's windows. A flurry of birds flew from the trees nearby, and it seemed like the devil himself was laughing from the depths of the earth.

I whirled around to find Saitō; he had paused, his features calm. My heart rate picked up as I sensed danger, but I couldn't pinpoint the origin of it until ... until my feet started trembling, and the whole ground followed.

"What the ...?"

"Stay calm. It shall pass."

Saitō's voice barely covered the rumble of the ground. I addressed him an incredulous look, but the man just shrugged. Then I understood.

Earthquake.

Dust fell from a temple nearby, the beams working against another as the waves passed over us, shaking the whole compound. Compressive, then secondary. I couldn't make the difference, my mind straining to understand that I was witnessing, for the first time, a real earthquake of a magnitude probably over 6.

At last, the rumble died, and all fell silent. For a moment, nothing moved around us. Then the birds started chirping again, and Saitō signalled for me to follow him. That was it. The moment had passed.

No discourse over safety, or anything of the sort. The man couldn't fathom that, for me, this was an experience of one's life. He probably presumed we'd been in no danger, or that I knew what to do if it happened inside a building.

I jogged after him, my legs wobbly, as he took me to another part of the compound, one I had never been to. In the courtyard, all the captains were seated except for Okita. I shrugged it off, perhaps his cough had picked up again?

After the earthquake, I followed the third captain dutifully, my legs feeling like jelly. Saitō directed me to a spot beside him. I sat without a noise, trying to hide. Unfortunately, it didn't prevent Itō to spot me. His glare didn't faze me as much as the sick smirk he sent my direction. Horrified, I realised that guy had no conscience; he was about to sacrifice his men gleefully.

I narrowed my eyes at him; this war wasn't over. He had made it personal. Fuck that politician! Shinpachi clicked his tongue beside me, and I wondered what had annoyed him so much. The entrance of the three men that had attacked me, wearing a white kimono, broke Itō's staring contest. Silence settled in the courtyard, solemn. There was no sadness here, only rapt attention, and the roughness of warriors. Was it what honour felt like? Sounded like?

The convicted sat on their respective mats, bowing low before the three Shinsengumi Commanders. None of them winced, although I knew some must have felt pain from my earlier attacks; I had crushed elbows, temples, knees and shins mercilessly. Dignity infused their features, even though fear danced in their eyes. Then, one by one, they thanked the commanders for allowing them to die honourably. My stomach twisted into knots.