What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Ambush

"Toshi ?", Kondō exclaimed, stunned by his sudden – and dishevelled – appearance.

"Double back, we must lose them!" he yelled.

Who? Loose who?, I thought. But no one asked, and we followed as Hijikata darted down a set of narrow streets. Running with those sandals was pretty horrid, but I was glad I had insisted on keeping the standard waraji rather than put on the more delicate platforms. I'd be dead, by now, without those sturdy cord sandals. Yamazaki popped in front of us, a shadow sliding from dark spots to hiding place, showing us the way. For a moment, the only noise was my heavy breathing, and the steady echo of running feet that covered the rain.

Kondō checked on me twice; running in that constrictive garment was less than comfortable, but I stretched it to its limit to be able to keep up. Hakamas weren't too convenient for speed racing either; I surmised this was why Hijikata tucked them into gaiters. We ended up in a larger alley that I recognised; the compound was just a few streets away. The downpour was weakening, and I hopped around cobblestones to avoid puddles. My legs ached, but not as much as my lungs. Constricted under the obi, they were screaming bloody murder.

Thank the Valar for my extensive military training, else I'd be puking my guts on Kondō's tabi socks. Head and face soaked with sweat and water alike, I squinted to find Yamazaki's shadow in front of us. When everyone stopped, I eventually spotted the ninja. He faced a set of men armed with both katana and wakisashi. Ronins.

Five of us, against nine. It could have been a fair game if not for the people they faced. Hijikata yelled at them in his most impressive voice, causing them to wince; there would be no stragglers, no mercy, and probably no prisoners. Oh, he was pissed, our impressive Demon Commander! I found myself smirking in anticipation. How those guys didn't tremble in their waraji astounded me; from a lone man, they now faced four ... and a woman. No doubt I'd be dubbed an easy target, so I prepared myself for combat. Soaked feet – check. Elvish sword – check. Fucking swaddle around my legs ... check. Pulling out my dagger, I ripped the kimono open along both legs, wincing as it sliced into the beautiful fabric.

Sorry, silky cloth, your life or mine.

Harada barely spared me a glance, unsheathing his own sword in tune with both Kondō and Hijikata. I cocked my head aside, taking in the strange sight; I'd never seen Harada with a sword. But the captain's spear still laid in his room; it didn't fit with the disguise of a respectable man who took his wife on an evening stroll. I nearly snorted as the Ronins closed in upon our Vice Commander. With my ripped kimono, I doubted I looked the respectable lady anymore. But at least, I could move.

The ronins charged, all at once and Kondō pushed me back. "Stay behind me!" he commanded.

"Like hell I will!", I yelled, jumping into the fray. Then, I unleashed the fully power of my blade as the assault began. The frustration of the day turned into rage, and I attacked like a Kitsune on a killing rampage. It was a dance; my blade led the way, calling to my blood. Duck, duck, stab, duck, slice, elbow, another slice. I twirled and turned around my attackers at full speed, always moving, catching them off balance. And my faithful sword followed the movement, biting in their skin without mercy. Ignoring the screams of agony, I danced, and danced, covering the battlefield with light feet.

The others became part of the stage, partners to my choreography. Luckily, all of them were recognisable to a fault; I knew where they were, fighting their own battle. A black blur passed behind me – Yamazaki – once. I crossed paths with both Harada and Kondō as well, but paid them no heed other than the area of safety they created by my side. The warrior in me kept moving, diving and slicing, hunting any threat.