What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Ujigawa plains

Toshizō was gone an instant later, and I trailed after him like a lost puppy, adjusting to his long steps. In matters of war, I trusted Fukuchō implicitly. Eyes followed us, some wary, and some more curious. Whether they watched me, or the demon Vice Commander as he strode was unclear. I loved to think that it was the both of us together.

We eventually found a familiar face in the crowd. Iba Hachirō, a little banged up, welcomed us with a stiff bow, and a smile curling upon his lips. He actually was pretty handsome man, so very young to demonstrate such a spine of steel.

"Ah, Kitsu-san ... are you here to convince me you are not a Kitsune?"

I fidgeted on my feet, swallowing my guilt.

"Iba-san. I can ensure you I'm a foreigner. But in my time with the Shinengumi, I have learnt to wield my weapon differently."

"So I've seen. Rumours run all around the Bakufu's troops, and I've seen the rifles you sliced as a proof."

I shrugged with a grin. "Not my fault if they yield like mochi."

The man actually laughed, mirth lighting his surprisingly fair eyes before he sobered up. Hijikata eventually warned him of our plan, and the man looked at us both with a conflicted expression.

"Do you think you can pull it off? On the Gattlings ?"

The question was addressed to both I and the Shinsengumi's Fukuchō, but Toshizō allowed me to respond. "Hai. If you get me close, I can slice and dice."

Given the man's hopeful gaze, I didn't think it was necessary to impart how indispensable that move was. "Hachirō," Hijikata warned. "If we fail..."

"I know. I've seen the devastation those things have run in my ranks. We weren't lucky enough to have a Kitsu on our side..."

His words lingered there, his fists tight. Anguish or anger that I had refused to work for the Shōgun? Toshizō's face remained impassive, but his jaw twitched. Duty and desire violently clashed. As the Shinsengumi Commander, he should have handed me over a thousand times. Did he regret betraying his master? I could only hope the lives I'd saved would compensate for the bruised pride.

"But we have the French cavalry, and few cannons or our won."

Ah right, Brunet's men, right? Where were they? The area was so crowded, and I wasn't about to wander on my own. On the other side of the field, SatChō troops were getting in line; the clock was ticking.

"Then start pounding at them," Fukuchō sternly added responded. "We must prevent them from setting those devilries down."

"Hai. I'll pass on the order, and try to convince the Yūgekitai to land a hand for a flank attack. We could use the trees as cover on the north side."

Hijikata simply nodded his thanks, and we rallied our troops, ordering them to cover the northern flank. They would push us forward until we could sneak into enemy lines. Shinpachi and Shimada would wreak havoc while Harada covered our back.

Time passed, and I was getting impatient. Those troops were organising before us, and I didn't understand why we didn't attack. Perhaps our cannons and riflemen weren't ready yet. Perhaps it was the way of the samurai, to hope for a fair fight. Either way, each minute that passed was making me crazy and I exhaled loudly. Damn. I hated waiting. And where were the Yūgekitai?

You need to learn patience.

Tristan's voice echoed in my head, and I nearly cursed him for the truth of his words. Patience had never been my forte. Eventually, a warm hand landed upon my shoulder, and I blinked the stress away. Toshizō stood by my side, blue haori on display, a metal plate covering his chest. The daishō at his waist awaited his eager hands, and the wind blew his bangs gently over his determined features. Then, he addressed me a pointed look, his lips curving ever so slightly.