What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Shōchū

Where Hijikata shows the full extend of his jealousy.

Chizuru had done wonders with my meager savings, choosing a few mochi filled with azuki paste, and a bottle of shōchū made from Yuzu. The liquor, locked in a dark bottle, would be a discovery for me. Bathed, braids undone, I was currently watching the temperature of my simmering water to brew a fresh batch of sencha tea as per Chizuru's instructions.

Once the volutes of vapour start to rise, count to a hundred. Pour the water over the leaves. Count to two hundred, and you're done. So I was now counting in my head, trying to remain focused upon the tea leaves that unravelled in their bath of warm water. Except that my brain refused to remain idle.

Kondō-san would have my head for not following the Zen principles, but I just couldn't prevent myself from reviewing the previous hours. Patrols had gone fine; no one in sight. No trouble. Which, in itself, was pretty unnerving. The calm before the storm; Satsuma and Chōshū clans plotted at the imperial court. The Shōgun was staying put, probably trying to pull his own strings to keep some power as well. Or his head...

As a result, the streets of Kyōto were damp, cold and safe. I left Harada at his own house; he protested, of course, until the wails of his son echoed in the street. I headed back to headquarters, leaping over the rooftop to make my way in; most Shisengumi men ignored that I lived inside the compound. Better to keep them thinking I met with the commanders once in a while, rather than realise there was a woman at headquarters.

The light was dim tonight, despite it being the middle of the month – hence close to full moon. And tonight, I had an offering in forms of tea, and slight drink, and sweets.

Sneaking about like a kunoichi, I brought my tray to Fukuchō's door. It was the first time I initiated contact – willingly. Three days had passed since our discussion with Sanan, and I had scarcely seen him at dinner. The few looks we had exchanged were puzzling, at best; was Hijikata cross with me, or frustrated with the rest of the world?

Nonetheless, I had to admit that... I missed him. My heart skipped a beat when I knelt on the engawa, mindful of any presence. What if he sent me away, or laughed at me? Fukuchō never rested; I might not be welcome at all.

"Fukuchō," I called, my voice low.

Silence greeted me until a slight shuffle filtered through the partition. The shōji was thrown open, and Hijikata addressed me a stern look before he cocked his head in the universal gesture that meant 'get in'. Surprised that he had bothered to greet me in person, rather than use his usual 'hairi' – come in – that should have been assorted with a kudasai he never used.

I picked up the tray, and slid inside on my knees. The door closed behind me with its usual swishing, and I took in the state of Hijikata's room. Everything was neatly arranged, the futon not spread out yet despite the late hour.

As he spotted the tray, Fukuchō lifted an eyebrow.

"So, is that what you do with your money? Presents for Harada's son, and sweet to appease your irate commander?"

The sharpness of his voice sent warning bells down my spine; there was an edge, there, that told me to prepare for battle. How did he even know I'd bought a toy for Shigeru? Damn. He sure had reliable sources.

"Yes," I stated, my voice carrying the same edge. "That's what I do with it. Isn't it worth it?"

Hijikata didn't kneel; he remained standing next to the door, the lantern barely chasing the shadows away from his cheekbones. His deep, dark eyes pierced me and I shivered slightly. My body was slowly cooling down from the patrol.