What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Of being a gaijin

As soon as I set foot in the common room, a familiar voice sing songed:

"You've got bed head, Kitsu..."

Nailed.

Damn that brat. I'd stolen Toshizō writing brush to sweep my hair into a hasty bun because I had so much trouble extricating myself from his sheets; they smelt like him. I glared at Okita, catching a sneaky glance from the Vice Commander at the corner of my eye.

"Better than yours," I retorted hotly.

Okita's smirk didn't abate, but he lifted his hands in surrender.

"Wow, kaa-chan ! Wrong side of the futon this morning?"

"Stop calling me that, sushi-brat."

By my side, Saitō chortled, and I didn't get time to check he hadn't drowned in his soup when Heisuke's boisterous laughter rang out. A tiny spark of hope infused me; that kid amused me so much before he became a Rasetsu. To hear him laugh so freely was a gift, even though it meant exchanging barbs with Okita.

"No way, it's just too funny."

Ah, Sōji wasn't done with the teasing. I stole a glance at Chizuru by his side; her shoulders were hunched and she nibbled on her lip. Poor kid, how did she get tangled with such a bully? My eyes returned to Sōji and I pondered the idea to throw in his face the fact I'd never want a child like him. But given his abandonment issues... bad idea. So I just smirked evilly, as if I was preparing revenge so despicable that it filled me with satisfaction.

From the high table, Sanan chuckled.

"I wouldn't push too far, Okita-kun, Kitsu-kun can be pretty devious whenever she wants to."

Okita paled one notch; his Nii-san's intervention always got to him, even though he was twisting the truth. I was as blunt as they came, couldn't make a good prank to save my life, and never attacked in the back. But this, Okita didn't know; Sanan was counting on it to instil a little fear. It worked, for the captain narrowed his eyes.

"The two of you are creepy enough as it is," he mumbled.

One conspirationnal look between the spectacled man and myself effectively shut him up. Sanan was devious, and he saved my ass so often that I really needed to find a way to thank him ... other than plunge my blade into his heart, that is.

By his side, Hijikata took a sip of his tea, features stern, but eyes flickering with both amusement and exasperation. I returned to my rice balls as the Baka trio started stealing each other's food. The commotion lasted for a while, and I realised I had become nearly impervious to their antics; my ears didn't bleed anymore.

When Kondō walked into the room and took his seat, the noise level abated a bit. He cleared his throat once, and silence fell.

"As some of you may already know, the Shōgun had decided to defy the restoration. The ports of and Ōsaka just opened to foreign ships, officially, for trade. But the British fleet is large, and currently nestled in Ōsaka. The situation is dire."

My heart plummeted in my heels. That was it. From the grimness of most of the captains, I wasn't the only one whose instincts screamed 'war'. How strange, to think that I had fought beside the British nary sixty years ago against a French privateer. I had sometimes troubles understanding the purpose of my missions...

But Kondō wasn't done; his next announcement, though, struck me speechless.

"I have been summoned at Ōsaka. I shall depart in the afternoon, and might return a few days hence."

I groaned. Of course, his unyielding loyalty would push him to abide by the orders of our supreme chief. I locked eyes with Okita whose slight fidgeting told me it worried him. I stole a glance at Toshizō and found his knuckles white on the tea cup. Any more, and the ceramic recipient would shatter. Sanan's stony expression gave nothing away.