What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Sparring

The thirteenth month of the year was bright and crisp. With the rainy season over, those blasted spiders had deserted, and I found myself climbing back into trees whenever I found the time.

It kept me balanced and fuelled the Kitsuneko nickname; who cared? It also helped me remember the routes I could take on rooftops. The view from the highest tree spread well over the walls of the compound, allowing me to memorise which rooftops connected, and where I could climb or descend without risking my life. In general, Kyōto's houses possessed a first layer of low hanging hooves; my own personal ladder.

Today, I was musing about the complicated political ties of the Shinsengumi while peeling a mandarin – those were delicious here ! We served the Bakufu, meaning the Shōgun's authority, but were patroned by Mastudaira-dono, the Daimyō in charge of the Aizu province.

Aizuwakamatsu rested up north, very far from Kyōto. I knew, by now, that all Daimyō's families had to remain in Edo at court. It felt too much like a hostage situation for me to approve it, but such were the rules. For more than two hundred years, the Tokugawa Shōgunate had brought peace to Japan by ruling thus; who was I do disagree?

As it were, and from what I remembered from Kondō's teachings, the Shōgun himself came from the Matsudaira line. And the actual dono used to serve as Kyōto commissioner – Kyōto Shugoshoku. I remembered Toshizō mentioning that Serizawa had been the missing link between them and their Aizu support. In exchange of their new status as the Shinsengumi, they had asked for Serizawa to be assassinated.

I shook my head. Politics always left a sour taste in my mouth. What did one feel when using his blade to pierce the heart of a man he knew, and sometimes respected? How woud I feel if I had to draw my flaring sword through Sanan? My breath caught, chest tightening at the idea. Would I even be able to cause the blade to flare up to execute such a good friend? Impossible... I shook my head. Impossible...

"Hey Kitsu-kun!", a familiar voice called from below. "Got another story to trade?"

I looked down, finding Heisuke shielding his eyes from the low sun. For once, his arrival was very welcome.

"You up already?"

I knew Rasetsu adapted their sleeping patterns to cope for the light sensitivity. But Heisuke seemed in good form still; he handled the change pretty well.

"I don't need that much sleep", he shrugged.

I climbed down, settling on the stone bench below the great tree. I couldn't help but wonder if I'd still be here to witness another Sakura season. Somewhere, deep within, I doubted it.

"Where were we last time?"

"The war of the ring had ended."

Albeit I knew what had happened after my departure – a story for another time – I didn't want to delve upon my lost love.

"Ah, right", I mused. My mind went to the next more epic story I knew, but I recoiled at the idea of speaking of Tristan's demise. No, this wouldn't do either. So King Arthur would have to wait. What about ... my time spent on a man-o-war in 1804?

" ... a naval battle?" Heisuke gave me a sheepish grimace.

"Does it always have to be a war?"

Good point, Heisuke.

"Well. Er..."

Perhaps I could tell him something entirely fictional, then. I reviewed the cartoons and comics I'd seen or read, only to fall a little short ... what would a twenty-year-old warrior whose humanity had just been stripped enjoy, eh? Eventually, though, an idea formed in my mind, and the suggestion seemed to stick.