What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Kitsuneko

Too late. I'd been too late for Heisuke, too winded to jump from rooftop to rooftop and position myself readily enough. The shot had not missed ... but the bullet that had taken down his opponent was just too late to avoid the slash that now marred his back.

I'd seen the damage, held his hand as they took him back to the compound. Heisuke had barely recognised me in the sea of pain, his teeth locked to avoid screaming at every step that his comrades took to bring him back.

I had not followed into the sick room, exchanging a desolate look with the other two members of the Baka trio that had faithfully remained by Heisuke's side. On my way out, I had spotted Sanan-san, jaw locked, and lips set in a grim line. There had been no doubt about what he would offer; Ochimizu was Heisuke's last chance.

Another failure.

Itō-sod was dead, pierced by many, many blades. But not mine. I wouldn't mourn his death; that bastard deserved everything a thousand times over. And his passing had been swift. Albeit I had watched from afar, I didn't consider myself a murderer. Was the light within me still alive, as Hijikata said? Or was I too far gone to be saved?

Propped on a high branch of the Sakura tree, I reflected upon the year that had just passed. I had learnt, suffered, trained, improved my skills and gained friends and foes alike. Most of all, I was soaking into a culture I used to know nothing about, and found it beautiful.

The tree slightly rustled as someone ascended below me, a familiar updo bouncing about as the branches protested against the warrior's weight. Should I warn Okita that Sakura trees were brittle? Tch. He probably knew better than I did. My gaze returned to the last rotten leaves. Eventually, everything returned to the earth.

"Nee, no wonder Harada calls you Kitsuneko."

He did?

Kitsucat, why not. I loved cats. And it would be better than Kitsufail. I slighty turned to Sōji who had climbed on a branch below mine. I cocked my head aside without dignyfing his teasing with an answer; Sōji could only be counterattacked with silence. Everything else was doomed to fail, for his superior wit and total lack of boundaries always led him to the kill.

Whether by the blade or with his words, Okita Sōji was a dangerous man. Though, he was somewhat mellowed by Chizuru's gentle care. Or perhaps that earning a second life gave him perspective on his initial views of the world?

"I don't understand your choice, Kitsuneko. But it's good that you still have it. We don't."

Was he trying to nail me, or understand me? I just nodded, and responded in kind.

"I know, and I appreciate that."

He may interpret it as he willed. We could have danced around each other for a while if the most terryfing of even had not occurred, right there, right now. When Okita's eyes focused behind me, observing what probably was a cloud, or a bird, I didn't worry. There was no fear in his gaze, no rush of adrenalin, no tension of his muscles. Why fear?

Why, indeed.

Eventually, I turned around to follow his line of sight and froze.

There, less than a yard away from me, crawled a spider with yellow hues across its belly. Long, windy legs that allowed it to progress too fast for my brain to catch up.

The memory of giant spiders in a dank forest assaulted me. Of my catatonic body after nearly dying on that high platform the elves called a talan. Of that panic that had crushed my chest, and send my mind in overdrive...

The tightness returned at once, and I couldn't even gasp. Cyanide, or panic attack? Suddenly, the ghost of the past resurfaced. Monsters attacking in the dark, Nazgûls oozing despair, eating light and hope around us. Saxons, burning and killing babies holding to their mother. A dark lake swallowing me in its icy depths.