What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Kazama's last stand

It was a long walk to Ōsaka castle, and very slow progress as I struggled to keep my feet from dragging in the dirt. The memory of the previous' day battle was embedded in our body; bruises, shattered bones, slashes and gruesome wounds littered our men, us included. Those still able carried those who couldn't. Food was scarce, and water alike. My parched throat reminded me to find the next river, and drink my fill.

As I cupped water in my hands in a nearby stream, a tall silhouette suddenly appeared beside me. Imposing, clad in black, red hair and intelligent eyes. At once, Hijikata's blade slid out of the scabbard, but Amagiri only lifted his arms in the universal sign of peace.

"Kazama is out of control. The clans will not support him in his rampage for revenge."

His grating voice rumbled low within his chest, and I exchanged a panicked look with Hijikata. What the hell was Amagiri talking about?

"Where is he?" Fukuchō demanded.

To my surprise, the tall man responded without blinking. "Looking for you, half a league away in direction of Ōsaka."

My blood ran cold. Saitō! I wiped my hands and was about to spring when an idea stopped me. "Can't you take care of him?"

The tall redhead shook his head, and I swore I saw regret shining in his eyes. "I cannot betray my kind, but shall not hinder you. If you hurry, you might catch him before he lays waste on your troops."

Goddamnit ! As if we need a lunatic to mow what remains of us !

Hijikata nodded his thanks, at loss of words. Then he whirled around and started sprinting upwards in the woods. I bowed to Amagiri, and followed suit, dread filling my heart. No matter how skilled, Saitō wouldn't last against Kazama. Especially after two days of intense battle and so little sleep. Our troops watched us curiously when we bolted down the road to Ōsaka, but a yelled command to stay put prevented any of them from following.

Bless Toshizō's natural authority!

I could only agree with his call; Kazama had killed too many Rasetsu to risk our exhausted men. If he intended to take revenge upon us for stealing Chizuru, we would face him head on. Adrenalin surged through my veins as I ran beside Hijikata; albeit he was taller, the hakama impaired his progress while my clothes and boots were suited for a chase. It allowed me to keep up.

As our legs pumped on the dirt road, I felt the full extent of my fatigue hinder my progress. I was already panting for breath, but neither of us were ready to slow down. Adrenalin and stress pushed us forward in hopes of catching Kazama before he wounded Saitō. Or worse. A fool's hope, maybe, but the only one that kept us going.

We were about to take a turn in the road following the Uji river when the sound or rifles echoed in the woods. Blood drained from my face, and we both swore in our respective languages. Ambush or Oni? We picked up speed and rounded a low hill, only to find Saitō locked in a furious battle with that blasted Kazama Chikage. Despite his speed and skill, the third captain was having trouble holding his ground.

Where did the gunshots came from?

I spotted a small group returning fire, Aizu men against a few SatChō. Probably Satsuma that owed allegiance to Chikage. Our feet carried us like the wind; and the ache in my chest only intensified when Hijikata yelled:

"Help the third division!"

He need not ask. One last look at the furious duel caused my stomach to plummet; Saitō was on the ground, about to be run through by a triumphant Kazama. I wanted to close my eyes, we would never make it in time. And even though I craved to jump in the fray, I had my orders. While I rounded to take them from behind, Fukuchō threw his wakizashi with a loud battle cry. The sword embedded itself in Kazama's shoulder.