What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Hakamas

Winter is coming.

Thank you, game of Thrones.

But anyway, winter was coming, both figuratively, and metaphorically. To greet the first icing upon the ground, I sang as I helped Chizuru tackle the amount of laundry. The little lady had told me she found my voice soothing.

'It reminds me of my mother,' she said, her expression shy, an adorable pout upon her face. I knew that Chizuru had grown estranged from any family save her father. Her doe eyes did it for me. So, while she affixed the kimonos upon a drying board and wiped the moisture out of it, I handled the pieces that needed some ironing.

The cast iron pot with a handle was nothing laughable; it weighed so much that my arms ached, and I burnt my fingers over the stupid contraption. But it did the job right, and I changed the coals inside when they were spent.

The action, in itself, was an adventure. Picking up hot coals, without pouring some upon the tatami mats, and exchanging with red embers always interrupted my singing. Chizuru chuckled once in a while, especially when she heard me swear – in French. She, too, was learning forbidden words.

Hakamas were a mess to iron; two pleats behind, five in front. On each freaking side! Fortunately, the little lady knew how to care for laundry. She set the grey hakama upon the tatami, folding the back first, and superimposing the others over it and gave me a wide smile that seemed to say 'voilà'. I just snorted. Voilà quoi ? Did I iron the cloth directly over tatami mats?

The answer was yes. So I set to work, and to keep Chizuru in good spirits while she froze her ass outside, I sang. Thank Loreena Mc Kennitt for drilling those tunes into my brain.

The truth was that my memory bordered on eidetic; it was excellent. Excellent to the point that I remembered smells, images and random things up to my baby years. That tool – my brain paths – got me through engineering studies without the need to commit seppuku. It also caused me to know a hundred million songs that I'd heard; they just penetrated my mind until I pulled them out.

Of course, my voice wasn't as crystalline as Loreena's so I just took the liberty to tone it down. It sounded good enough; the song, in itself, was melancholic and harmonious.

"All hail to the days that merit more praise
Then all the rest of the year,
And welcome the nights that double delights
As well for the poor as the peer!
Good fortune attend each merry man's friend
That doth but the best that he may,

Forgetting old wrongs with carols and songs
To drive the cold winter away."

Not a noise came from the engawa, and I struggled with a particular shifty fold, scrambling my brain with the next paragraph. Well, this was English. Who would know if I messed up a few lines, or started the same one again? Water sloshed gently outside; the only testimony of Chizuru's continued presence.

"This time of the year is spent in good cheer
And neighbours together do meet,
To sit by the fire, with friendly desire,
Each other in love to greet."

I could almost hear the violin and the harp as I pressed the rough cloth into shape. Those Hakamas had seen better days, and the knees were showing signs of tear and wear. This would not do. But I'd think about it later on ... for the moment, my mind was too busy to think about anything else than the singing ... and that blasted incoming war.

"Cross out of thy books malevolent looks,
Both beauty and youth's decay,
And wholly consort with mirth and sport
To drive the cold winter away."

My back and knees were killing me now and I sat with a huff. A sudden wave of homesickness hit me then, and I paused. Damn, I missed the sofa. Would I ever see my ironing board again? Chocolate, central heating? Would I ever take a hot shower?