What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Slice and dice

"Charge !"

The Yūgekitai massed by our side, and I caught Iba-san's eyes for a second before we flowed through enemy lines like a blue tide. The last SatChō didn't stand a chance against us; some fled, some died on the spot, and the few remaining ones that resisted were cut down where they stood.

It was only a matter of seconds before the Gatlings started hacking down our ranks. My heart threatened to leap out of my chest, everything ached but I'd be damned if I slowed down. My lungs burnt with the familiar pressure of poison, and I struggled to draw enough breath. Two steps forward, Hijikata shielded me from any bullet that might come my way. Long ponytail dancing in the wind, blue haori billowing behind him, sword arm poised to kill... It was endearing. It was frightening. All emotions clamped down by the fear that seized my bones.

My heart leapt in my throat when the riflemen adjusted their aim. We were so close ... too close. Just a few dozen yards, and we'd be behind the lines. Legs on fire, blood pumping in my veins, I raised my sword.

"Fire!"

Too late.

The thunder of firearms cracked in my ear, defeating. Many men fell, but Toshi was still running. A sharp sting over my upper arm told me I'd barely avoided a crippling wound. Thank Galadriel for the armour! The enemy line watched our approach, fear shining in their eyes as their shaking hands failed as reloading fast enough. I didn't blame them; the whole Shinsengumi, Kitsune included, was closing up upon them.

"Kitsu !", Fukuchō yelled. "Slice and dice!"

"Hai!", I cried back, reaching for that ball of light that would enable the flaring of my blade.

"Harada, Shinpachi, watch her back!"

Two sets of cries responded to that.

"Saitō! Clear the area."

I didn't hear his response, but I bet Hijikata did as he reached for the first rifleman who had not turned tail. Them, my friends and my men surrounded me, and I felt this great swell of love for all of them that allowed my blade to be set ablaze.

I smirked.

Let's play.

The rest was just a blur of metal and rifles melting under the unyielding power of the elvish sword. Men fled before our mad charge, eyes wide open when the head of a cannon touched the ground, cleaved mercilessly by the molecular blade. By my side, both Hijikata and Harada unleashed their skill with abandon. They held nothing back; neither did I as I swarmed the battlefield, diving without fear from cannon to Gatling.

I had but one goal; to destroy as many pieces of heavy artillery I could before we were surrounded. Or shot dead.

Cries rose in the chaos, firearms and cannons pounding. Despite the sound that overwhelmed my ears, I heard a great clamour rise from our own ranks. Not a kiai. Neither a common battle cry. It felt more like a funeral. My mind refused to catch the call; wielding the blade mobilised all my skills. I slashed and ducked, running at full speed between cannons and Gatlings as men fled before us, meeting only little resistance.

"Kitsu !"

The imperious cry caused my feet to pause at once; there was desperation in Fukuchō's voice and I turned around, fear squeezing at my chest. Was he hurt? The blade immediately returned to normal, and I swayed on my feet from exhaustion. Damn.

Blinking, I searched Hijikata and found him standing, holding up a man that seemed to suffer from a coughing fit. Another set of wracking spasms, and the tall guy wiped his sleeve over his mouth. It was tainted crimson. Blood. I cringed, the memory of Sōji's condition invading my mind. Then, as Hijikata straightened to support the officer, I recognised Iba-san.