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Twenty years before the Shinsengumi’s rise, the year 1843 marked the beginning…
In the quaint village of Hino, nestled in the heart of the Edo era, the sun filtered through the vast canopy of swaying branches and cast dappled shadows upon the forest floor. Hijikata and his elder sister meandered through the woods, their laughter a sweet serenade that echoed through the trees. The tranquil air was alive with the mingling scents of moss and wildflowers. Ahead loomed the ancient wishing tree, a revered symbol of hope and dreams. Its gnarled branches stretching towards the sky like welcoming arms, heavy with the aspirations of their village and generations past.
As he stood before the ancient tree, a look of wonder crossed his expression. The tree trunk was rough and weathered, its texture like the gentle wrinkles on their grandmother’s face. He reached out a small hand, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the tree’s bark, feeling the energy of the forest pulsing through him.
Hijikata’s heart skipped a beat as he carefully considered his wish. He thought about all the wonderful things he could ask for – a new kite, a special manju from the market, or even a chance to watch the samurai train in the dojo. But as he gazed up at the mighty tree, the rustling of its leaves carrying secrets to the autumn breeze, he knew exactly what he wanted.
I’m going to wish for happiness, he thought to himself, a sense of hope and excitement building in his chest. I want to make sure everyone in the village is happy and safe.
“Hurry, Toshi! We have to write our wishes before the sun sets!” Sachie urged, her voice trembling with eagerness, as fresh as morning dew.
“Alright, just give me a moment,” Hijikata replied, focusing intently as he settled at the foot of the tree. He rummaged through his satchel in search of paper, ink and a small brush. With careful strokes, he began to inscribe his wish, the ink flowing as freely as his imagination. Each word was infused with hope.
“You have to make a real wish!” His sister, unable to contain her curiosity, leaned closer to catch a glimpse. Her grin radiated with mischief. “You can’t wish for something silly like a pet fox.”
His face flushed with indignation as he hastily folded the paper, shielding it from her prying eyes as if to protect the words that were meant to be secret. “It’s not silly! Foxes are clever and loyal!” He couldn’t help feeling defensive, his pulse quickening as he thought of the small, fluffy creature by his side. He imagined having a fox as a companion, exploring the woods and playing together.
“Sure, but what if you wished for something grand? Like to be a samurai or to travel the world!” Sachie retorted, darting out her tongue in a playful jab.
“Why would I want to travel?” Small, set lips and crossed arms declared his independence. “The village is home.” He felt a surge of devotion to the villagers and the land he’d grown to love.
“Just let me take a tiny peek,” she coaxed, bouncing on her heels, her spirit as vibrant as the sunlight shining through the foliage.
“You’re being so annoying.” Hijikata’s irritation deepened, yet a flicker of amusement twitched at the corner of his mouth. “You’ll ruin the enchantment!”
“Enchantment? You mean the magic of you being too shy to share your wish?” Sachie shot back, her giggle playful and infectious.
“Stop it. It’s not funny!” His scowl was as stubborn as a bamboo stalk. “Let’s just tie our wishes and then go home.”
As Hijikata tied his wish to the tree’s branch, the paper dancing like a sparrow’s wings beating swiftly. The tree’s energy was a gentle vibration that resonated deep within him. Somehow, he felt connected to the nature, to the ancient magic that flowed through the forest as if the tree’s roots stretched deep into his own heart.
But in the flurry of their playful scuffle, a gust of wind sent the small slip of paper fluttering to the ground, unnoticed as the siblings walked away. Their laughter faded into the distance, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of a promise.
From the shadows of the trees, she emerged. She had been watching the children with an air of quiet fascination, untouched by their carefree and innocent joy. As the boy’s wish paper lay forgotten at her feet, she stepped forward. Kneeling down, her fingers brushed against the delicate surface when she picked it up.
Curiosity piqued, she unfolded it carefully and read the simple words that were scrawled in childish handwriting: ‘I wish for happiness.’
A flicker of something unfamiliar evoked within her, but she quickly dismissed it.
What a naive desire, she reflected, her mind racing with thoughts of her own cold reality. Happiness is an illusion — something meant for the weak-hearted, like these human children.
Yet, as she held the wish paper, a subtle tremor began to build inside her, like the quiet lapping of waves on a moonlit lake. Why does this matter to me? Why should I care about a child's wish? The innocence of the words tugged at her, unraveling memories of a life she had long since buried behind walls of ice.
With a soft sigh, she glanced into the distance, the pull of the child’s wish lingering in her mind like a ghost. And before she knew it, she was already approaching the wishing tree to tie the child’s wish back to its branch. Her fingers trailed across the ancient bark, feeling its wisdom thrumming beneath her touch.
“If you are truly a keeper of dreams,” she whispered to the tree, her voice imbued with a yearning she could barely comprehend, “grant this child his wish. Let him find joy, even amidst the chaos of this world.” Even if she couldn’t find it for herself.
The wind stirred again, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver through her, as if the tree acknowledged her plea.
What would it be like to truly feel joy? she pondered as she gazed up at ancient cedar, something so foreign yet so enticing. What would it be like to want something without the crushing weight of fear?
Just then, Takeda’s voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the unyielding present. “Asuna, we should be going.”
Turning away from the tree, her heart rippled like a summer pond. A silent prayer for the child’s happiness and a yearning for her own peace — a peace that seemed eternally elusive. She walked back towards her guardian, the shadows swallowing her form once more, but not without a lingering glance at the wishing tree, now adorned with the child’s dreams.
The sun already dipped below the horizon, casting warm, golden light over the landscape by the time Hijikata and his sister made their way home. Little did he know, his wishes were whispered into the wind, reaching far beyond the confines of his childhood. The threads of fate weaved around him, the delicate connections intertwining his life with that of a demoness.
And as the night descended, the wishing tree remained steadfast, its branches swaying gently, cradling the wishes of a child and the unvoiced dreams of a demoness, both seeking solace in a realm filled with shadows. In that tranquil moment, the world held its breath, caught between the innocence of youth and the complexity of fate. The fluttering papers danced in the twilight like fragile butterflies, a celebration of aspirations and a promise that tomorrow would bring new hopes.
And perhaps, even a chance for peace for those who sought it.
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