What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Of elves and men

The ache in my arms was lessening the more I trained Saitō's left-handed moves. Still... I felt a little stiff, so I had taken a break and helped Chizuru in the kitchen this evening. Dinner went smoothly enough; the tension of the impending clash between the Shōgunate troops and SatChō still hung in the air, but the captains knew better than to allow it to dampen their spirits.

Discussions flew around the room, the Baka trio fought over their plate, Hijikata remained silent, his eyebrows pinched in frustration while Kondō and Sanan discussed quietly. For my part, I tried to have a quiet conversation with Saitō over sword making when Okita interrupted us with his usual cheek. His eyes twinkled from this passive aggressiveness he wielded to perfection.

"You're chatting our ear off with elves, Kitsu. But I'm sure they're not as good as Saitō and I."

Well, where did that come from?

"Sōji!" Kondō frowned. A barb burnt my tongue as, indignant, I bristled in my seat. By my side, the quiet captain of the third unit frowned slightly.

"If those elves trained for centuries, surely their skill is unmatched."

I nodded briskly, the memory of seeing Elladan and Elrohir – Elrond's twins – spar quite vivid in my mind. But Okita had a point here; I'd left middle earth a long time ago. Trained with the Shinsengumi, and learnt new ways to defend myself. Yes, no one was as deadly as Legolas, Glorfindel or Elrond's twins. Not in this world. Even that impossible Kazama wouldn't have hold his ground for long.

But I was stuck, today, here. And I had learnt much from them all. Perhaps it was time to stop reminiscing, and accept that, my lot was to hone my skills the human way. So I shared a grin with the first division captain, and set my sights on something more realistic than explaining how much superior an elvish fighter would be.

"Actually, there was something..."

I turned to Kondō-san whose benevolent gaze rested upon me. Daring me to ask. Time was closing in; now or never, eh?

"I wanted to see you and Saitō-san spar, Okita-san."

Sōji's lips curled; I never used the honorific, and was borderline rude in my name calling sometimes. But he seemed to enjoy the challenge. His playful green eyes zeroed on Saitō by my side, disturbingly eager. Sometimes, I wondered if Okita was a sociopath; how did Chizuru handle such a personality!

"Whaddya think, Hajime-kun?" he smirked.

Saitō's only response was a slight bend of his head before he stood, his whole body keeping the posture while his long legs unravelled. How could he do that, exactly?

The Shinsengumi captains were no elves ... but damn, they knew how to move.

"The training room is currently unoccupied."

Saitō left the common room, his bowl of rice thoroughly cleansed. I locked eyes with Hijikata at the head of our little gathering, only to find a slight smirk across his face. The commander stood, too, and gestured for me to follow. I did just that, trailing by his side on the engawa without another word shared.

"Well, this is going to be fun," Harada spoke, following in suit.

Once more, I marvelled at my ability to wreak havoc in a controlled environment. What was it, with my presence that brought every equilibrium to its breaking point, uh? The training room was a great hall with barely a few lanterns. Both Inoue-san – the sixth division discreet captain – and Heisuke lit some of them up as I stopped beside Hijikata.

"Don't impair yourself beyond measure," he commanded. "I'll need you at full capacity soon enough."

Sōji already had a bokken in hand when he sneered in our direction.

"Neeee, Hijikata-san, always the worrier."

Fukuchō rolled his eyes, but didn't respond to the jab; a very wise decision. Then the game was on. And I gasped. For as human as they were, both captains moved with incredible speed.

Blows should have landed, but found no one as Saitō dodged with liquid grace. Okita was more brutal, but no less agile as he jumped out of the way with catlike twists and that Cheshire grin that characterised him. Beside me, Chizuru's eyes were wide, her hands stuck over her mouth to avoid squeaking in fright every time a smack echoed in immense training room.

They skidded, attacked, parried and evaded faster than my mind could fathom. It rightfully put me in my place; Saitō was being very lenient with me. Those guys didn't need a second sword to be fucking deadly. One was more than enough to cover all areas; I only fought with two because I couldn't move like this.

My crushed ego didn't prevent me from finding patterns; there was an opening on Saitō's right side whenever he used Gatotsu. It was the only one I could see. Okita was trickier, more unpredictable, like a tornado unleashed. There were overtures. Many, actually, that would last just a breath and be closed an instant later. Only the fastest opponent would ever penetrate his guard, for they fleeted faster than lightning.

Still, it was extraordinary; I would never reach that kind of mastership. Fortunately, the elvish blade compensated with its guidance. This gave me an edge the others didn't have; my only chance against such experienced swordsmen. I understood, now, Hijikata's drunken bitterness on that moonlit night.

I risked a glance his way, finding his features slightly sour, but his eyes sparkling with wonder. Like a proud father watching his sons take flight, Hijikata, as much as Kondō-san, could only bow to the prowesses of their respective wards. Both had overtaken their masters. My hand twitched in loneliness; how I wanted to reach out and slid my fingers between Toshi's warm ones.

Secret relationships are no fun.

"Thwack !"

The loud smack called me back to the fight. The dizzying match went on for perhaps three long minutes; two dancers revolving around each other. It ended when Saitō actually ducked, at the latest moment, under Sōji's swing, effectively putting his blade across his ribs. Okita froze, smirk failing, before he shook his head.

"Tch, got me again, Hajime-kun."

The green of his eyes flickered with annoyance, and I watched them bow to each other. Both were sweating profusely, hair matted to their forehead. The two captains then smiled, and left the dōjō like the pair of mismatched friends they were.

"Do you understand why you taking down Saitō worried us?"

Hijiata's voice shook me out of my musings, hurling me face first into another set of considerations. I had known, at the time, that challenging that particular left-handed swordsman was cocky. Now that he had integrated my self defence moves, and was expecting it, I had no chance to defeat him, ever, again. Saitō wasn't a man to be vanquished by the same trick twice; he trained, trained and trained until his body moved by instinct.

Good thing I didn't know beforeheand.

I caught Hijikata's intense gaze and nodded.

"I do."

What else?

A hand landed upon my shoulder, and I slightly tensed before recognising this particular touch. Harada slightly shook me before he let go.

"Viens (Come on), Kitsu, we're up."

Right. Patrol this evening.

Hijikata only nodded to us, his face unreadable, but eyes worried. Did he expect trouble, or was he having a hunch? I had yet to ask him whether he had premonitions, or was just navigating by instinct.

"Be careful, the two of you."

And instead of calling him a mother hen, Harada returned his serious look and nodded.

"We will, Fukuchō."