#y0 was not enough to feed my nishimaji addiction

[canthaveshitinkamurocho]

Evening was falling on Yashikimichi. The soft light of lanterns poured out onto the dirt streets from the inside of an izakaya, accompanied by the obnoxious chattering of men.

Okita Soji, captain of the shinsengumi's first division, sat at a table surrounded by a handful of his crew. Unfortunately for the rest of the patrons, he had decided to treat his boys to a night of drinking. They had a way of making their outings everyone's problem.

One of the shinsengumi members poured himself the very last sip of sake from a tokkuri. He looked up at his eyepatched captain, who sat across from him. “Ey, boss. We ran outta booze.”

Okita, flushed from the alcohol they’d been having, scowled at him. “Then get some more. I look like a servant to you or somethin'?” 

“N-no-! Sorry, boss.” 

One of the establishment’s bussers passed by the table. The underling took the opportunity to shout at him. “Hey, you! Make yourself useful and get us more sake! Make it snappy!”

The young busser stopped dead in his tracks, turning to address the underling with a quiet voice. “Uh, right away....”

A lone, visibly drunk man sat nearby, gulping down a drink. He slammed the cup on the table under him, craning his neck towards the noisy cluster of samurai. “Can ya shut the fuck up? Yer annoyin’ ass voice is gonna give me a damn headache.”

The izakaya went silent, and the subordinate’s attention snapped from the busser to the man. “Huh? The hell you just say, bastard?!”

“Yer ears fuckin’ clogged or something?” 

"Tch! This guy…" The underling stomped over to the man’s table, baring his teeth. "Better apologize before you regret that."

"Apologize for what?"

"That big mouth of yours, that's what. You even know who we are?!"

"I know who ya are. Don't really give a shit, though."

Onlookers let out simultaneous, audible gasps. “This guy is seriously screwed…”

Instead of focusing on his subordinate, Okita’s eye fell on the man, intrigued. The stranger was wearing a ridiculous fuchsia hakamashita. His hair was held up in a half-ponytail; the hair underneath the ponytail was short, only reaching under his ears. He seemed as eccentric as he was shameless.

The underling took him by his hakamashita, lifting him up to his feet. 

The man’s calloused hands shot up to the other's wrists, trying to shake him off. “Get yer paws offa me-”

"You insolent-!"

"Let him go." Okita got on his feet, making his way over to the two. 

"But, boss-"

"Shut it and let him go."

The subordinate took one last glance at the man he was holding and grunted, letting him go with a shove. The man stumbled back but managed to stay up, giving Okita a curious look.

Soji approached him with a palm on the hilt of his katana, tucked away on his hip. "You. Who are you?"

"Not really any of yer business."

Soji tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "Ya won’t even tell me your name?"

"Hmm… Yer Okita Soji, aintcha? You can try an' beat it outta me if ya'd like." The man’s frown turned into a mischievous grin. Surprisingly, it didn't piss Okita off, at least not completely.

"You know me, then."

"Course I do. Yer face is as pretty as the rumors say." The stranger eyed him up, slicking back his dark hair. The close distance allowed the captain to see that his bangs, which were parted down the middle, were somewhat overgrown, and his oval face was freckled. His mouth was surrounded by a circle beard, much like his own.

"Hah." Okita shook his head, his lips threatening to curl up into a smirk. "Butter me up all you want. Can't have ya disrespectin' my boys." His left hand motioned towards his sheathed weapon.

"It's gonna be like that, eh? Fine by me." The one in fuchsia chuckled, taking one last mouthful of sake before picking up his own katana from the ground. The two strolled out of the izakaya, the unknown man leading the way. 

They were followed by Okita’s flock and a couple of drinkers waiting to get free entertainment. Not that it would last long, but who’d pass up the opportunity to see one of the top dogs of the shinsengumi in action?

The captain and the stranger took their positions across from each other, keeping their distance.

Okita's right hand wrapped around his katana. "You pick fights like this often?"

The man’s hand went to his own sword as well, his fingers fondling the hilt excitedly. "Nah. Just don't like dipshits tellin' me what to do."

Their stares were intense enough to burn holes into one another. A mixture of drinks and emotion made their faces hot; beads of sweat were already accumulating on their foreheads even though no one had made a move yet. 

Okita raised his weapon, setting the end of the hilt on the center of his left hand; the signature stance of the Tennen Rishin style. He could see a hint of confusion in the man’s face, as if he didn’t recognize the technique. Mistaking the confusion for apprehension, he attacked first, running forwards and slashing diagonally.

The man, having seen Okita coming ahead of time, blocked the captain’s blade, shoving it away. He smiled, a wild glint coming to life in his eyes. He thrust his katana forward three times, each one quickly dodged by Okita. It was an uncoordinated, messy move, but it could've done damage if one wasn't paying attention. 

Okita ran in the man's direction again, ready to bring his sword down on him. The unnamed swordsman took him by surprise, stepping to the side. Soji had to swerve his entire body to avoid falling on his katana, which was coming right at him.

Their swords kept clashing over and over for nearly 10 whole minutes, neither one able to outdo the other. Although the swordsman's odd fighting style was highly unpredictable, Okita's trained eye helped him avoid making any major mistakes. 

A small crowd had come together to watch the duel. The closest they'd gotten to seeing blood was a couple of cuts. The pair were getting tired, both of them breathing laboriously and dripping with sweat.

The swordsman stood still, holding his katana with both hands as if he were going to say something. Okita tackled him to the ground before he could, making the man drop his weapon. He pointed the tip of his sword at the man's face.

The man simpered, looking up at Okita. "Not one to play clean, eh?"

"Never said I would." 

"Seems like a stalemate to me."

The captain furrowed his brows, feeling something jab him in the gut. A gun.

Okita took a breath, their gazes at each other unbreaking. A thin drop of blood fell from his katana onto the man’s face, leaving a crimson splatter on his tanned cheek. This was the first time anyone had managed to back him into a wall since completing his training. His eye twitched, and the cool breeze sparked something within him, something dormant; he realized this was the best fight he'd had in a while.

"You're smarter than you look, old man."

His nameless opponent laughed. "Old man? Damn. Stings harder than yer blade."  Although he was worn out, the glimmer in his eyes didn't go away. "Only idiots carry a single weapon around."

Okita's group gaped at each other in amazement, and the crowd marveled on.

The captain smirked. "... Truce?"

"Truce."

Okita got off the swordsman and put his weapon away. The swordsman stood back up, not bothering to wipe the dirt from his clothes or the blood from his cheek.

The crowd watched the pair in amazement; someone managed to walk away from Okita Soji with their head still on their neck.

His band of men mumbled to each other indignantly. One of them stepped forward, fists clenched, “You can't just let him leave like that…!"

"I can't? Who decides that, huh?" Okita glared, sauntering towards the group. 

"Um…" His lackey hung his head in response, taking a few steps backwards.

"Thought so. Get back inside. We're not done drinkin', right?" 

"Yes, sir…"

With that, the cluster of shinsengumi headed back inside. Seeing them leave, the crowd also started to dissipate, leaving the captain and the swordsman behind.

The stranger turned to leave, speaking up without looking at Okita. "The name's Nagatani Hisamoto, by the way."

"Ah. Didn't think you'd actually tell me."

"I'm a man of my word. I think this fight needsa rematch, Okita-chan. See ya 'round."

Okita scoffed, making his way into the bar. "You didn't even pay for your drinks."

"Oops, guess I forgot." Nagatani ambled out of sight, rounding a corner leading farther into Yashikimichi.  

Something told Okita this wouldn't be the last time he’d see that guy.