What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Gion festival

Summer took over Kyōto, and I found myself gaping like a fish out of water whenever I trained. High temperature and humidity didn't suit me at all. Even if they had traded kimonos for yukata of similar colours, I wondered how the commanders managed to keep breathing, fastened in their layers like a set of sausages. In my room, I couldn't even stand the Juban.

I now slept next to naked, hoping that no emergency would arise. If so ... well, I wouldn't be the first half naked woman they saw.

Patrols resumed, as usual, and I only kept to the rooftops way after sundown. The dark tiles kept the heat radiating for hours after sunset. Shinpachi talked at length of a Festival supposed to happen on July 17th. Funny; it corresponded to my mother's birthday. For a moment, my thoughts drifted to my parents, blisssfully oblivious that their only daughter roamed the rooftops of Kyōto in the year 1867.

How could they, when my absence had not happened yet? When they were not born yet? They would only ever realise it if I didn't make it back. Which, until now, had never happened. Patrol went fine this evening, but excitement was in the air. Tomorrow, a procession of wooden floats would occur in Gion, starting from the Yasaka Shrine. Could I find a way to witness it? Perhaps Yamazaki would give me a hand and find a disguise.

For the first time since I'd landed at Shinsengumi headquarters, the need to escape, to regain my freedom, burnt deep in my stomach. I wanted to go out, to see people, to be able to watch someone in the eye or even have a conversation with a stranger in the street. Wanted to see the light outside of the Captain's courtyard. After all, hidden between thousands of people, I might manage, right?

People would wear their best yukata. Colourful banners were already hanging from the main street, and many stalls sold yakitori, dango, tempura and other Japanese specialties that I yearned to taste. The atmosphere, so stifling with heat, buzzed with life and anticipation. My heart basked in the mood; the girl in me was giddy. Not that I had money to spend, mind you. But I wanted to witness this display of life. Something told me I might never see it again; I never ignored my intuitions.

"Kitsu ! Descends." (Get down)

Harada wasn't looking at me, but I knew his voice by heart now. And he was the only one who would order me in French anyway – I was teaching him a few words, it gave us unfair advantage in battle. We were an efficient team; he watched my back, and I watched my team in return. I landed beside Chizuru, causing her to jump with a squeak.

At once, a folded straw hat landed over my face, keeping my hair and upper face from view. My dark attire blended in the night, and no one quite gave me a second look thusly concealed. All eyes were on the wall of lanterns that faced us, and the magnificent wooden raft that stood behind it. A golden frize bordered its lower ridge, so detailed that it seemed like a piece of unmoving nature. Birds, sunrays and leaves intertwined, carved with such incredible skill that I gaped.

"C'est superbe", I whispered.

"Uh?"

"Superb. Beautiful", I translated.

Harada nodded, filing up the word for later. The colours, the music, the mood ... even though the flutes kept playing off-tune to my occidental ear, and the tones strangely upsetting, I couldn't help but marvel at the richness of the float.

Harada and Shinpachi grabbed Chizuru's hand to drag her further in. But before they pulled her in the crowd, Harada offered his other arm to me. Touched by the gesture, I allowed my bare fingers to touch the skin of his forearm. The captains led us, ladies, in the heart of the future festival of Gion. There, I ate my first dango, and tasted a Yakitori. There, I smiled, truly, for the first time to Shinpachi who seemed to brighten at my consideration. There, I laughed, and hummed, danced a few steps, even, after a few cups of sake.