What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Drunk

Laughter, dangos, yakitoris and colourful yukatas. Shamisen. Dances, drinks, nice food and lovely lamps. I sighed, stuck upon my rooftop, watching the clouds unveil the moon. The others were out this evening, but the gaijin stayed in. Captain's orders.

Fortunately, I had a great view over the bonfires that lit the hill east of Kyōto. The large kanji burning through the forest was part of the Daimonji festival; a tribute to the dead. It was only fitting that the captains would attend it, for they dealt it almost every day. There were five bonfires overall; I could spot at least two, and distinguish the light of the third one from my position on the outer wall.

That giant letter burning through the night was really impressive. The scent of distant smoke reached my sensitive nose, a reminder of past camping days in the wilds with a set of knights. Or hobbits, elves and dwarves. I missed them all, but such was the toll of my travels. To hop from family to family at the whim of the Valar. Already, I was becoming closer with the captains; Harada and Heisuke had been sad to leave me behind while they got to enjoy the night.

Kondō had not joined the celebration; whether to keep me company, or because his workload didn't allow him to go out, I wasn't sure. We spent many hours in his room, penning another set of letters, before he excused himself for the night. Until then, my bow for sole companion, I had settled over the roof of a nearby structure in full view of the street where my men would return.

My men, yes, the tenth company. And Chizuru.

I might have drifted off a few times; the stifling heat was, at last, abating, allowing for a little respite. How pathetic, the lonely guardian on the rooftop, dozing off! By now, I probably resembled more a miserable girl than the legendary Batman, watching out for innocents in Gotham city. Who cared, anyway, if I was lying down rather than standing with my cape billowing in the wind.

Ears strained, I still kept watch. As the night unravelled, I wondered if I should join Sanan-san. He, too, was restricted to the compound. A dead man would call for attention even more than a gaijin. Would he be grateful for the company, or would I just keep him from improving the Ochimizu Formula?

Somewhere, deep within, I knew something important would happen tonight. I wouldn't rest until Chizuru had returned. Of course, she couldn't be safer than with both Okita and Hijikata, but still... I worried. She'd seemed so radiant, this evening, as she prepared for the night. A lovely blush upon her cheeks when Okita had greeted her; she had been authorized to dress like a girl at last. I had helped her with the traditional updo, marvelling that her very straight hair took the abuse without flinching.

I wished I could have snapped a shot of Okita when he'd seen her, dressed in her colourful yukata. His coughing had abated a bit, the result of the newest protocol. Yet, neither of us three wanted to rejoice too much. It was too soon to know whether his body would be able to reverse the damage, and the antibiotic eradicate most of that blasted bacteria.

Sanan had allowed him to go out, but warned him against drinking. The young captain took the warning seriously. Good. Chizuru would be in good hands; I remarked he – almost – never turned his sarcasm against her. As if he knew how much damage he could inflict upon her fragile heart.

A faint sound called my attention back to the street. A voice, speaking softly, but deep enough to roll about the empty streets. The words drifted off in the night, like a song, with rhymes and lilts that made that voice even more beautiful. Still ... the closer it got, the less sense it made.

Poetry! This was poetry, the infamous Haikus ... of the Oni Vice commander. I squinted in the moonlight, finding his tall silhouette walking up to the compound's entrance. On his own. And probably drunk, from the way he rambled, and the wavering of his gait. Something steered within me, a protectiveness for a man I only partially understood, but had sided me when it mattered most. Ever since our spat, we had not exchanged a word with each other.