What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Iba Hachiro

What a waste of time. Tch. I walked briskly, my legs aching from the long trip. A part of me was glad to have left Ōsaka behind. This whole restoration business was blowing our fondations to bits. Both Satsuma and Chōshū forces had swarmed the imperial palace, causing the Emperor to edict his own rise to full power.

Thus started the Meiji Era; I didn't quite grasp how deeply this would affect us all. The Shōgun himself didn't seem to know what to do other than gather his troops. The British fleet threatened its authority, massed in the Ōsaka bay; it didn't bode well for us either. Even though I was part of the Hatamoto elite group, I wasn't of those who could sollicitate a private council with the Shōgun, nor did I want to be.

My aim was to protect him, period. The betrayal of Satsuma, and its consequences only seemed to stir things that had laid dormant for years. With the arrival of those gaijins, what more could we do than survive? Too bad the clans didn't agree on how to handle that foreign threat. Old rivalries caused alliances to collapse, and the emperor was too young to make heads or tails of this mess.

I shook my head. Why, in truth, was I here instead of staying at the Shōgun's side? My butt ached from the day of riding; Ōsaka to Kyōto was no short distance. Yet, walking inside the Shinsengumi's coumpond brought a smile to my lips. I had heard rumours about the demon commander and was glad that the Shōgun had chosen me for the task, no matter how distasteful. If that demon was who I remembered...

For sure, The Yūgekitai wasn't exempt of supersitions – me included – but the chances of finding a Kitsune were fairly low. Even though I'd been nicknamed the young Tengu of Iba, I was still a human. If such a thing existed, I doubted a yōkai spirit would agree to fight by our side. Still ... if anyone was able to create such an alliance, I bet it was the Oni no Fukuchō.

Speaking of which... A long ponytail seemed to be dancing under the Sakura tree. I progressed silently as I heard the clash of a bokken. Sparring in the courtyard rather than in the dojo? How peculiar. I hastened my steps, curious to see if the Oni no Fukuchō was still the same person I'd known in Edo. The man moved like a demon, and I had little trouble recognising his features when he turned around, his expression so damn fierce that I chuckled.

Three men – Kondō at the center – stood beside the engawa, watching the mermerising sparring session of Hijikata-kun against ... a woman. Eyes wide, I nearly misstepped and tumbled. She leapt at him with the grace of a cat, and the fierceness of a tiger. Stunned, I felt my jaw slacken as I watched their deadly dance. A long, reddish braid swung as she moved within their own personal battlefield. A supple body that twisted, jumped and slithered like water. And that colour ... like Kitsune fur.

I reached Kondō-san and his men, but couldn't take my gaze away from the fight. The taller captain I recognised; Okita-kun had certainly grown since the days of Shiei hall. He barely spared me a glance before his own eyes returned to the fight with glee.

"Definitely innovative", I mused, eyes following the Kitsune's weapons.

Unsurprised to find me there, Okita smirked.

"Her style is even more erratic than Hijikata-san."

I snorted at the description. If he had obtained the menkyo Kaiden under Kondō-san's guidance, Toshi always was a wildcard. The result of years gleaning techniques in many different dōjō as he pebbled the paths of Edo with a medicine box strapped upon his back. Hijikata always fought to win, because 'loosers die'. Meaning he could fight dirty, and adapt techniques to fit his own body style and speed, transform and restructure at will. Form didn't matter to him, only results. Hence the birth of Hiratsuki – the direct blow.

Hijikata's innovative style was one of the reasons I had befriended him in the first place; a visit never went without a duel as Shiei Hall. His new findings were all too interesting to pass. Yet here he was, facing a woman who fought with even less structure than he did... and was still standing.