What makes history (Hijikata x OC)

Captain Kitsu

The next day, in the afternoon.

I woke up late to Shinpachi yelling profanities about Itō. That snake was leaving, at last. Discovering that Sanan-san wasn't as dead he was supposed to be had thrown him into a fit. What a relief! Though, I wasn't stupid enough to consider myself out of the woods; our personal war wasn't over. Yet. His departure only put me out of reach, for the moment.

My joy was short-lived when I realised the whole contingent of men that followed him. Damn. How would the Shinsengumi handle the loss? I had many other considerations in mind for the moment, such as the existence of Rasetsu and the recurring interrogation; what should I do? As an individual, I was only entitled to have an opinion about it. As the Keeper of Time ... that was another issue.

I needed to see Sanan-san, but it would have to wait. For the moment, Chizuru was slumped over my shoulder, crying her eyes out because Heisuke had chosen to follow after Itō the deserter. And Saitō, as well as the captains of the fifth and eighth squad. There were many captains I didn't know well, yet, including a soft-spoken man of the sixth – Inoue-san – and a tall guy, Shimada, who behaved like a huge teddy bear. I didn't see them in the ranks. Good.

As they marched out of the compound, with perhaps seventy or so men, I shivered. One quarter of the shinsengumi forces shared Itō's beliefs about foreigners. This definitely wasn't a good place for me to be. Hidden behind the Sakura tree, the last flower petals danced about my face as I watched the two familiar faces of the captains. Neither friends, but not foes anymore. Heisuke was so easy to get along with, to see him following a man who hated foreigners was a strange blow that resonated deep within. Had he befriended me to extract information? Sold me off to Itō? No, I couldn't believe that of him.

As for Saitō ... it puzzled me. The man had shown unwavering loyalty to Hijikata. I would have sworn he'd die for his commander... Saitō's silence talked volumes to me; he admired Hijikata, and bowed to his will. In return, the commander trusted him. So why did he take that path? Was my mind refusing to believe the dissension? Was it naïveté, only, that kept me from understanding the historical event playing under my very eyes.

We whipped dinner this evening, Chizuru and I, between sniffles and heavy silence. My sword rested at my hip, and no captain came to check on my whereabouts. Hijikata had kept his word; I wasn't a prisoner anymore. The others were probably still reeling from the shock of Itō-snake's departure, and happy enough to be off the hook. Surely the end of this surveillance would bring them a little relief.

For once, Sanan-san ate dinner in the common room. I realised Itō's absence would allow him more freedom. Poor man, he'd been on house arrest within his own organisation. Most of the men still thought him dead, but here, in the Captain's quarters, he was still welcome. As for me... I shared his predicament. I was no longer required to hide.

We settled in front of boiled vegetables and rice balls in a sinister silence. I observed people as they ate, the way Shinpachi's knuckles spasmed over the bowl, or how Sōji affected to be nonchalant when his posture was far from relaxed. His cough wasn't abating, and it was sometimes the only noise in the room. The rasps twisted my heart; despite Okita's annoying personality, I couldn't help but feel sympathetic for his plight. Nowadays, he wasn't even allowed outside the compound for patrol. He spent day scooped in his room, and even more time watching over Chizuru.

Sanan, he and I were all prisoners of our own free will.

The ceremony with which everything was served, the small hills created by rolled rice, everything had a placement. It brought me solace. In Japan, there were codes for everything; I appreciated it. It brought routine, and certain peacefulness. It wasn't to the point when I felt smothered by them; it comforted me. The fact that, even though the world could turn upside down, I'd find the same platters, the same rice bowls, the same set of swords laid out in the same order beside their respective owners. With Saitō absent, they all rested on the right side. So did mine.