What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Let it go !

Chapitre 1. Let it go!

Sanan, unbridled by his usual worries, led the dance as he spoke fast, brushing subjects I knew nothing about – clans and alliances – and some I could grasp – the shōgun and Emperor. He also regaled us with tales of Sōji's pranks, or even his own youth and education. Apparently, he'd joined Kondō's dojo after being defeated by Isami in a duel; it fitted the character I'd drawn in my mind. His thirst of knowledge only saw defeat as a means to improve.

I also traded a few of my students' stories, about how my roommates used to stick shoes to the ceiling, or exchange the men's cupboards in retaliation. Hijikata had a few of his own; before coming to Kondō's dojo, he used to walk around the Edo era with a pack of family medicine upon his back. His words weren't so careful, but not slurred yet. Yet, a certain sense of familiarity twisted his sentences, giving them a more officious feel than at the compound.

After a particular funny tale involving an elder woman who wanted medicine for her less than eager husband – medicine the Hijikata family didn't provide for – I realised he must be quite parched. The others were still downing sake, after all. I finished my own cup of tea, and filled it up again. As Kondō started laughing about one of his own misadventures with Matsumoto-sensei – especially the day the doctor had yelled at him that his compound was a pig's den – I handed the cup to my neighbour.

We'd shared a glass of sake already, so I hoped he wouldn't make manners over tea. But then, who knew? Everything was so codified that I might be, again, the cause of a nuclear implosion. Hijikata blinked at me, and I feared the worst. Then he nodded slightly, and accepted the tea cup that he downed in one gulp. I offered the teapot again, hoping no one was observing us at the moment. He just presented it for a refill.

A tea lover indeed.

The night dragged on, and we eventually called it a night, belly and hearts full after this wonderful evening. I watched my beloved blade reintegrate the Vice Commander's hip, and felt for the dagger hidden in my obi. At this time of night, it was decided that no disguise was needed, and we stepped into the deserted streets with a smile upon our lips.

Kimigiku saw us off, and expressed the regret that we might not meet again. I gazed into her dark eyes, full of knowledge, and nodded politely to the magnificent Geiko. The Oni probably felt it as much as I did; war was coming, fast, and Japan was about to be upturned from his very roots. Worse than any earthquake.

It made me even more grateful for this wonderful evening where things had been as they should. Traditions, untouched. And joyful. Just as we passed the door of Shimaraba, I paused in my steps, and bowed deeply to the Captain.

"Thank you for this evening, Kondō-san. I had the time of my life, and will remember it always." Then I turned to Fukuchō: "Arigato gozamaisu you for taking care of my sword, Hijikata-san. And thank you for accepting the ploy, and being a friend, Sa ... hum, mellon nin."

If the Colonel and Commander didn't quite know how to react to my heartfelt gratitude, Kondō grabbed my hands in his.

"You are very welcome, Kitsu-chan," he responded. "We all needed it."

Ah. The honorific changed. Was it me, or was I regressing every second month? From san, to kun, to chan. I had now used most of Kondō's palette. I smiled; it only meant closeness, and it made me happy. We started walking up the street, away from the river to reintegrate the compound when he asked.

"Although I'm sure you had better evenings, filled with good wine and illustrious friends."

Ah, Japanese politeness. Now, I knew I wasn't allowed to answer the truth; it would simply vex Kondō, and belittle his efforts. But I could dodge.