'You're up late again?' Hijikata grumbles when he hears Chizuru's socks pattering against the wooden floor.

'Because you haven't eaten anything since morning,' Chizuru kneels with a tray of three rice balls and miso soup. The seaweed flakes are cut to appear like cherry blossoms floating on the steaming soup's surface, 'I added a pickled plum to two of the rice balls. You seemed especially happy the last time I did that.'

'And everyone is fine with the preferential treatment?' Hijikata meant it as admonishment, but he cannot help feeling happy at her close attention to his eating habits.

'Only the one eating needs to know what's in his rice ball,' Chizuru rearranges the chopstick rest and plates in front of Hijikata.

'It's our little secret then.' He adjusts the cloth that she drapes over his shoulders, 'you need to rest. We can't have you collapsing on us. I promise not to work too late.'

'You said the same thing last night, but the candle was on in your room until sunrise.' Chizuru retreats to sit at the threshold again, 'I was watching the whole time.'

Hijikata warms his hands against the soup, 'I appreciate your consideration but don't stay around at night too often. People will keep spreading rumours. Ever since that time Kimigiku dressed you in women's clothes, people have accused me of kidnapping and eloping with a geisha. For goodness' sake, I'm the vice-commander of the Shinsengumi. What sort of cad do they think I am?'

'I'm sorry for causing trouble.' She remembered following Hijikata as his page the next morning. Women swooned while remarking 'ah, I wouldn't mind being whisked away by such a handsome man.'

'If I'm still alive after the fighting is over, I'd like to marry a woman like that,' Hijikata lodges the edge of the bowl between his lips.

'I... I'm sure you'll have many beautiful, prospective brides lining up for you,' Chizuru examines the scaley blisters along her knuckles and palms, acquired from exposing the skin to the chilly air and rigorous house chores. No, she can never be a beautiful woman like Kimigiku or any of the other geisha at the teahouse. Yet on that one night, hobbling along the cobblestone behind Hijikata in her wooden sandals, she could pretend to be Hijikata's bride, 'you'll be the most desirable bachelor in Edo.'

'The eyes of a thousand fools are worthless,' Hijikata's stomach grumbles as he glances at the rice balls, 'listen, Chizuru, I know they call me the demon vice-commander, but I would never harm you. Don't feel obliged to do me any favours like this. Understand?'

'I'm not driven by fear.' Chizuru's hands make the motion of patting the pickled plum into rice. She had begun a habit of sneaking a pickled plum in at least one of Hijikata's rice balls whenever he was going out for patrols or staying up late into the night. It was after overhearing two old women at a wagashi stand explaining that the pickled plum was heart-shaped because its health properties could extend the consumer's life. Hijikata wouldn't understand her feelings, of course. Old wives' tales are irrelevant to his work.

Suddenly, he gasps and drops the soup bowl. His eyelids bulge and hair turns white from the scalp. Chizuru pushes the spilled soup bowl aside and reaches to support his shoulder, 'Hijikata!'

'I-I must overcome it!' Hijikata lurches forward, knocking his weapon propped against the wall. Chizuru realises it must be the ochimizu causing blood cravings.

'You need blood?' Chizuru reaches for his sword. A quick cut on her wrist should let enough blood to relieve the pain, 'wait there...'

'Don't!' Hijikata shoves Chizuru out onto the porch. The sliding door rattles shut, followed by the latch click, 'stay outside! Those are orders!'

'Hijikata!' Chizuru bangs from outside and tries to enter the room. The lock shakes but the door remains shut. Crashing cutlery and furniture amplifies the panic in her chest. Hijikata screams like a slaughtered deer.

She scans the compound's windows. All of them are dark squares. Yamazaki is usually patrolling the front yard. Kondou will wake up to aid his most valued colleague, even if it means breaking the door and restraining Hijikata to stop him injuring himself, 'Yamazaki... Kondou... Anyone! Help!'

Chizuru tries to spring up, but a hand pushes her back down in front of the screen. The tip of Kazama's boot appears beside her. Her eyes are glued to Hijikata's shadow that keeps writhing against the paper screen like a puppet.

'Humiliation is a thousand times worse than physical pain,' Kazama's eyes are serious. Usually, he wears a triumphant grin when injuring members of the Shinsengumi, 'leave him alone.'

'I can do something... I must.' Ordinarily, Chizuru would have leapt up and unsheathed her kodachi before calling another swordsman. But Kazama seems unconcerned with kidnapping her now. Even a glint of sympathy shows in his carmine irises. They are two oni, distant spectators to the tragedy in man's pursuit of strength.

'If you alert anyone, they'll take it as proof that the demon vice-commander became a fake warrior only to splutter like a sick dog,' Kazama leans on the handle of his sword, another sign of his disinterest in combat, 'if I were him, I would've just accepted your blood and ended the fuss. But men love complicating things, don't they?'

'The ochimizu will consume his life force, won't it?' Chizuru undoes the cord around her ponytail to release her hair. Her neck is cold, 'how... How long will he have to live?'

'Normal humans fear death. For Hijikata, the ochimizu is no different to a gun, only he has turned himself into the weapon,' Kazama turns his back to the door, 'since he could die any moment anyway, it would be better to concentrate all his strength into fulfilling his mission.'

'I don't want Hijikata to become a weapon,' Chizuru's presses her hands against her ears, trying to block out Hijikata's wheezing, 'I don't want him to die.'

'Then you'd better come with me and get out of this place before you get attached any more,' Kazama stares at her, 'only misery awaits a female oni who promises herself to a fake.'

'Kaza-'

Kazama vanishes. Hijikata has quietened, just heaving with exhaustion. Chizuru rests her head and fingers against the sliding door, trying to absorb the little warmth inside his room.

The courtyard smells of fresh jasmine after rain. Chizuru sits on the wooden porch, laying Heisuke's torn haori over her lap. She opens a wooden sewing box with the kanji for 'grace' etched in the bottom right-hand corner. It was a gift from Sen for 'in case Chizuru wanted to do embroidery for a man she "might have good eyes for".'

'Leave that boy to look after his own possessions,' Hijikata grumbles. The porch creaks when he sits beside her, 'Kondou said he found you sleeping outside. It'll be a pain if you catch a cold, you know.'

Grey shadows under his eyes hint at last night's episode. Then, her eyes follow his sleeve, down to a jagged gash on his hand. He must have cut it against a shattered piece of porcelain when he lost control of his body.

'This?' Hijikata observes the wound, 'it's nothing.'

'You always say that...' Chizuru slides the needle through the cloth. If only she hadn't hesitated to cut herself with Hijikata's sword. If only she had a smaller blade like... This. Chizuru removes a pair of fabric shears tucked into the lid. Next time, if she holds it slanted to the vein like this—

'Hey, what're you doing?' Hijikata grabs her wrist. The shears fall out of her hand and clatter against the stone floor, 'if you're going to fix Heisuke's haori, don't bleed all over it.'

'I should've been faster,' Chizuru bends over to retrieve with shears. She wipes off the dirt using the inside of her sleeve.

'If this is about last night, pretend you never heard anything,' Hijikata's cheeks suddenly seem hollow when he turns to face her. His eyelids twitch like they're struggling to stay open.

'You were screaming. I was scared and I... I couldn't do anything.' The shattering porcelain and thumping against the tatami still vibrate through Chizuru's chest. During the morning's cleaning duties, she tiptoed around his curled body picking up bits of dried rice balls, mopping dried miso soup stains and seaweed shaped like withering petals, 'the blood cravings induced by the ochimizu are worse than torture, like someone twisting your intestines from the inside with thorn-covered gloves. How could I sleep knowing the pain you were in?'

'The ones who volunteered to take the ochimizu did so knowing the consequences,' Hijikata takes the fabric shears out of her fingers and slides it back into the lid, 'you're essential behind the battle lines. It's not sustainable to offer your blood every time one of the men starts suffering from their withdrawals.'

'But it would only be for you,' Chizuru eyes a petal fluttering past Hijikata's face, 'I can't explain why but lately, even when you're just out on routine patrols, I worry so much that I can't concentrate on anything. It's like… You've become special to me.'

Even in the chill of a spring morning, a warmth settles over them like sunlight creeping over thatched roofs. Hijikata pauses like he's been check-mated in a sparring match before inhaling, 'if you want to live as a normal Edo woman, you're welcome to leave.'

'But—'

'Kondou is the commander, so we follow his orders,' Hijikata watches a bird bring twigs back to its nest-in-progress, 'otherwise, no one deserves special treatment. Our job is to defend the bakufu. The Shinsengumi took you in because of your connection to the doctor who started this whole mess, not to cause problems with personal feelings.'

'You speak like I'm the only one with these "personal feelings" because I'm a woman. That's what it is, isn't it?' Chizuru twists the sewing needle between her callused fingertips, 'but I know you dream of life as a normal man. It's in your haikus. Yamazaki and I found them under Souji's pillow.' Chizuru recites a poem:

Pickled plum in rice

Sweet and sour heart in my rice

Reminder of spring

'That Souji!' Hijikata's cheeks pinken like the cherry blossom petals, 'm-more importantly, is it any good?'

'I-I'm not a poet so my opinion's uninformed.' Chizuru cannot bring herself to trample the vice-commander's literary aspirations. But the seasonal reference feels forced. The repetition of 'in rice' for such a short piece suggests limited vocabulary and lyricism. There must be something good about his writing, 'it's… Surprising. I didn't realise you like pickled plums in rice that much.'

'My sister always snuck pickled plums in everything: soups, paste, rice. She said they were nutritious, but I hated the sourness,' Hijikata smiles at the birds building their nest, 'sometime after you started working here, I grew fond of them.'

The health claims about pickled plums are probably overblown but even following a superstition is comforting. Chizuru interlocks her fingers over her lap, watching the birds preen one another, 'then I will always remember to put a pickled plum in your rice ball.'

NOTE: I watched the two Hakuoki seasons back in high school and the movie some time last year. My sister recently bought the game, so we've been gushing about the series together. She also read over this story before I uploaded it (thanks a bunch!). In my opinion, the movie has some beautiful scenes (e.g., Hijikata's love confession to Chizuru which enticed me to watch the movie in the first place!) and more appealing characterisation of Chizuru and her relationship with Hijikata but unfortunately does not make much sense as a standalone. Anyway, this was a nice dose of the historical Japanese flavour to get me out of the (fan)fiction-writing slump. I think I will write another vignette about Chizuru and Hijikata's relationship.