What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Daishō

My mouth opened, then closed. Several times. I blinked tears away, willing them to subside as I lifted both hands to receive the inestimable present that was presented to me.

"Domo arigato gozaimasu," I whispered, bowing low. Those were the only words that passed my clenched throat before I choked on words altogether.

Kondō smiled, both hands extended as he held one the most beautiful presents I'd ever been offered. His eyes twinkled with pride, light brown nearly turned golden in the morning light. His cheerful manners never failed at cheering me up.

He laid the wakizashi in my palms, blade facing him, hilt on the left. I gaped slightly, watching how incredibly beautiful the dark polished wood of the sheath was. Carvings at the hilt called for my attention, and I lost myself in the contemplation of my new sword.

The other captains watched the proceedings in silence – for once – and my ragged breath was the only true noise that filled the room. Stunned, I was totally stunned. For a moment, I just didn't know what to do with myself. The last blade I'd been gifted with was the elvish sword; it was no less significant. And today, Kondō-san was offering, on behalf of the Shinsengumi, the second blade that a samurai must wear at his hip. Harada was the only one who didn't wear a wakisahi, for he fought with the Naginata.

"I can never thank you enough," I bowed again.

Sanan's voice filtered in the room, and I felt blood rush up my cheeks.

"Given how you dance, we decided that you should have your own daishō. Saitō has offered to teach you left-handed parries."

I turned to the third squad captain with a grateful nod; he received the mark of respect with barely a twitch of the eye. The others held different expressions, from outward glee to surprise. Harada's grin, especially, reflected brotherly pride. His sturdy presence helped me regain composure, and I lifted the sword in my left hand before I turned back to the commanders.

"You certainly how to talk to women."

Hijikata snorted, his face straight as ever, but a ferocious gleam in his eyes.

"We know how to talk to warriors."

His voice rumbled in the room, causing a few snickers to roll behind me.

"Izumi no Kami," he added, causing a few gasps to fill the room.

I gaped, catching his gaze for a moment. His face remained neutral, but his eyes sparkled with mischief at the memory of our first night together. Hijikata had transcended his satisfaction with the sword maker by commissioning my own wakizashi to the same man... the significance of such an act rattled my bones, and I turned to Kondō with a bow.

"This is a kingly present, Kondō-san."

"An offering to the Kitsune spirit," he responded.

I caught his meaning well enough. I was part of the Shinsengumi, and would fight for them. The better I was, the more protection I could provide our men with. Resolve set my jaw, and I promised to myself that I would train to exhaustion to master two-handed techniques.

And my blade's new abilities.

Well, young lady, time to suit up. The world's waiting for you.

And suit up I did. Saitō was relentless, teaching me to use the wakisahi with my left hand. Everything was reversed compared to the standard techniques. The aim was for me to create muscle memory for my left side, using the wakizashi. Training was harrowing, and my arms ached. Saitō got me to repeat the same slice and dice move a hundred times a day until I could do it in my sleep.