What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Poison

Beware, bad things incoming.

I was buzzing in the common room like a little bee, serving dinner and conversing with both Harada and Shinpachi about Italian food. Hijikata's last approach had sent me on cloud nine, and I wondered if my words would keep him away. I was getting worried now; the bittersweet warning might save me from heartbreak if he heeded it. But deep within, I longed for his presence.

Anguish suddenly flooded me and I rubbed my sternum. I was the only one responsible for this mess, so now wasn't the time to dwell upon it. I ignored the shortness of breath, consequence of my stress, and returned to work.

I wanted this dinner to be perfect in honour of Shigeru; both Chizuru and I had worked hard on the food in order to offer a nice, celebrating meal. For the moment, though, the three commanders had yet to show up. Their tardiness failed at weighing down on us; our company of six – two girls, four men – were merrily chatting time away once all trays were served.

"Ca sent bien (It smells delicious)", Harada said, tasting the tomato sauce with his finger.

"Ca sent bon," I corrected automatically.

"Oi! Wait for the others, you piggy!" Shinpachi protested, as loud and boisterous as ever.

Harada gave him an exasperated look, and winked to me. His voice was as calm when he responded to his comrade.

"I'm just cleaning the rim. N'est-ce pas, Kitsu ?"

Okita laughed as he entered the room and settled beside Chizuru. I grinned, even without Heisuke, those two never failed at bringing animation. And, even though most of the time, I recoiled at the noise, tonight felt different. Perhaps because we celebrated life altogether. Mayhap, as well, that my heart was singing with this newfound proximity with the Vice Commander. Again, and again, I remembered the intensity of his eyes, the taste of his lips over mine, the safety of his touch around my lithe frame.

For once, I didn't even feel guilty over my feelings. Yes, I had loved, and lost more times than a woman my age should have. But I was free of bounds; my former husband was now dead, and so was the man who had kissed me, in the fifth century, leaving me with a heart in shambles and mind in turmoil. As for my first love, Legolas was now married and happy with ... my clone – which was a story for another time. The truth was that I had learnt to let him go years ago.

Hence, I owed nothing, to no one. I was free to find companionship with a man I admired, if he so wished. Our last interaction gave me hope in this regard; I believed Hijikata-san and I might find common ground and offer mutual support in the future.

Even though the man ruled his captains with an iron first, I could see past his defences; he wanted to be more. More than the Oni no Fukuchō. My presence might coax him out of the role, if only for stolen moments. I dearly hoped he would allow it; the perspective of some time en tête-à-tête, with Toshizō caused my heart to sing. The Vice Commander, unattainable, had shown his hand. And it seemed he wanted more of me.

Me. Frances. Not the Keeper of time, not Kitsu. Just me.

I wasn't a young woman anymore, dazed by the presence of an elven prince. Naïveté had fled, allowing wisdom to replace ingenuity. The flutters of my heart brought that hope, bright, in the centre of my chest; I couldn't ignore it. And couldn't wait for him to taste those gnocchi...

When the shōji was thrown open, I knew at once who it was. My heat leapt in anticipation as I whirled around ... only for blood to drain from my face. I gasped, a tight pressure settling upon my chest. Hijikata's features were grim. Kondō's sombre and Sanan's grey eyes steely.