What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Christmas

This is how, evening after evening, Sanan and I gathered into the training hall after the men had cleared it, and I, cleaned it. After battling against Saitō's crazy skills, I found myself squaring off against the Colonel. It felt like I was bouncing from master to master, inhaling their knowledge, guidance and techniques. Internalising it at the speed of light; I'd never trained to intensely in my life.

I felt privileged, and exhausted at the same time. Sanan was all grace, and hidden strength. So different from Saitō's detached precision, or Hijikata's purposeful blows. His eyes gave nothing away, his intentions concealed until the last moment when he would strike like a snake. His style, as well, was different; Sanan had obtained his menkyo Kaiden in the Itto Ryu style before he came to train with Kondō, and I was proud to be able to notice the shift.

Fortunately, the Colonel didn't go full out on me. As we worked on my defences while trying to flare the blade, he used a shinai to attack me. At first, he applied little force; whether he didn't want to hurt me, or feared relatiation from our Vice Commander was yet to determine. I surmised he was balancing the right amount of bruising to keep me motivated without breaking me.

It didn't prevent me from returning to Hijikata's rooms with swollen knuckles. Toshizō said nothing, he just kissed them and sighed; we all knew time was too short to be gentle. Night after night, Sanan kept me on my toes, as if I was in real battles, coming from every direction until I started mastering the art of meditating and blocking with both wakizashi and elvish blade.

As days passed, the parries became instinctual and required less of my mind; I started compartimentalising the part that fought, and the one that sought the light within. The first time my blade flared, I was swinging it full force and chopped the shinai off. Sanan barely had time to leap out of the way; the blow would have disemboweled him.

I gasped, horrified. The blade returned to normal at once.

"Gomen!" I squeaked. "Are you all right?"

"Hai," he chuckled, mesmerised by the clean-cut upon the shinai. "But this one's dead."

I inwardly panicked; how could we go on training when I risked cutting him down so much?

"I can't... I'm not in control. We can't continue, it's too dangerous for you."

Sanan scowled, his glasses flashing as he fetched another shinai.

"Nonsense, Kitsu. This is the reason Hijikata-kun choose me. I am Rasetsu, I have better reflexes and can heal from almost any wound."

I gaped; how I had overlooked such an obvious thing ? Ignored that, more than Sanan's skill, Hijikata purposefully put him in the line of danger to train me ? My maiden heart bled from the necessity of it. All was fair in love and war, and I trusted our Fukuchō to make those harsh decisions. He was right. But still...

"And you're not half bad with a sword," I concluded with a huff. "All right, I yield. Just stay away from that flashing blade."

"You need to trust in my abilities," he scolded me, his tone deceptively light.

"I do. Much more than I trust myself."

Hijikata thought Sanan worthy to handle my lack of control. His decision wasn't a request of sacrifice, but a show of trust. And from the light that danced in Sanan's eyes, it honoured him. I realised that my skittishness would only impair his pride.

So on we went. Again, and again, day after day, shinai after shinai until we had to order more. Hijikata lifted an amused eyebrow at the request, but after he'd witnessed our training, complied nonetheless.