It started with a simple request: “Train with me.” Hijikata’s voice was serious, his gaze intense.

You hesitated. “I’m not a swordsman.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll teach you.”

In the quiet night, you raised your sword awkwardly, but Hijikata was there, adjusting your grip, his body close enough that you could feel his warmth. “Relax,” he instructed softly, his breath brushing your ear. “You’re too stiff.”

With each correction, his hands lingered just a moment longer, his gaze softening when you improved. “Not bad,” he murmured, a small, rare smile appearing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart race, wondering if it was just the training—or something else entirely.