What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Food

Chizuru popped in my room with tears leaking down her cheek. I was in the process of working my splits when she fell upon her knees before me, her head touching her hands in a familiar gesture of submission.

"Domo...", she started. Then the words stuck in her throat, and sobs started wracking her lithe body. I scrambled to my feet at once, worry gnawing at my insides. What could have happened to put Chizuru in such a state? She, with her blessed good heart, so rarely allowed the events to unsettle her.

"Chizuru...", I started.

But the sobs didn't abate. Her grief called tears to my eyes, and my heart rate picked up. Had someone died? Who, who could have been hurt? On a whim, I reached out for the girl and pulled her in a hug. Her arms wound up around me tightly, distress pouring out of her eyes.

"You're scaring me. Is anyone hurt?"

If the tears still ran down her cheeks in salty trails, the young woman managed to shake her head. I deflated slightly, rubbing circles over her back until she sniffed once, twice, and untangled her body from my arms with shameful cheeks.

"Gomen nasai, Kitsu-san," she started.

"Tch," I interrupted. "Drop the contrition and tell me what put you in such a state."

"I... I wanted to..." a new set of tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away with her sleeve. Whatever her predicament had affected her so badly that she was unable to speak. Eventually, though, the girl managed to calm down and took a deep breath. As if she was tasting fresh air after days locked in a cellar.

"Arigato, Kitsu-san, for helping Okita-san," she murmured, bowing to me once more.

Realisation hit me like a brick wall, and my mood brightened at once. So, she knew. Her heartfelt gratitude warmed my heart, albeit I hated that excess of deference.

"Is he well?"

"Hai," she breathed, hope shining in her eyes. "I think he is cured."

As a doctor's daughter, Chizuru understood Okita's ailment in depth. Which meant she probably watched over him like a mother hen. If she stated he was cured, there was a good chance the treatment had worked. Her expression was such a present; was she considering the future, now that Okita had a new chance at living?

"You love him, don't you?"

She blinked and stuttered, her cheeks ablaze.

"I ... uh."

I cringed inwardly; I wasn't usually so blunt, and Japanese culture wasn't too big on affection displays anyway. Their expression was much more subtle. Once more, I had behaved like a gaijin, pushing Chizuru to a realisation she might not have been ready to swallow.

Well, let's hope she puts that on the big sister dynamic, rather than my proverbial lack of tact.

"Sorry, that was intrusive. This is your own path to clear out, and I'm not going to push either way."

Big doe eyes watched me with wonder, and I grinned at her. Whatever her feelings, I was glad to see her in good spirits. What I would have given, four years ago, for modern medicine to save Tristan from certain death ... even though I couldn't have stayed anyway.

But I wasn't about to begrudge Chizuru for her happiness, it was my own fault for falling for the wrong men.

And, for the moment, I might even have a thing with Hijikata. He'd kissed me once, offered his arm for a walk, and agreed to exchange cups of sake. Even though he had never come to me without alcohol in his veins, a girl could dream? My heart had been crushed too often; I knew I wouldn't give it away fully. Never again. Still... I was drawn to him.