Okita Souji (
notachick) wrote in
damned_institute2012-03-22 09:51 pm
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Night 62: M61-70 Hallway
[M63]
Dinner had been quiet, with Okita staying as silent as possible while Guy slept. It was concerning, actually, how long the man had slept this past day. Even as he finished his meal and the lights turned out along with that ominous message, Guy didn't stir. Okita had heard such things happened sometimes - people slept for longer and longer and then... The swordsman shook his head as if he meant to shake the very thought from his mind. Guy was stronger than that, stronger than a lot of them. He wouldn't go out like that. Not at least without a reason, a goodbye, some measure of warning.
The lights grew dim and winked out. The head doctor gave his little speech and Okita watched the speaker box on the wall with gradually waning interest and growing fear. People were going to grow sick, change, become horrific creatures, and those unaffected had a very clear choice at hand: kill their former friends or find a way to help them. Knowing Martin Landel, however, finding a cure would mean risking certain death for at least one person. Dropping his gaze from the wall, he knew he would volunteer if such a mission came.
His eyes fell onto Guy's sleeping form again and Okita finally got up, turning his head away as he coughed a few times. The sound seemed to echo in the room and he frowned, looking down at his hand. The napkin from his dinner tray served him well enough in cleaning up the red dots he saw and he quickly disposed of the offending thing in his desk drawer, locking it. Then, he made his way across to where Guy was, sitting down on the floor next to him. Maybe he shouldn't disturb the man's sleep in case something terrible had happened, but...
Okita reached out and gently shook Guy's shoulder. "...Guy-san? Guy-san, are you alright?"
Dinner had been quiet, with Okita staying as silent as possible while Guy slept. It was concerning, actually, how long the man had slept this past day. Even as he finished his meal and the lights turned out along with that ominous message, Guy didn't stir. Okita had heard such things happened sometimes - people slept for longer and longer and then... The swordsman shook his head as if he meant to shake the very thought from his mind. Guy was stronger than that, stronger than a lot of them. He wouldn't go out like that. Not at least without a reason, a goodbye, some measure of warning.
The lights grew dim and winked out. The head doctor gave his little speech and Okita watched the speaker box on the wall with gradually waning interest and growing fear. People were going to grow sick, change, become horrific creatures, and those unaffected had a very clear choice at hand: kill their former friends or find a way to help them. Knowing Martin Landel, however, finding a cure would mean risking certain death for at least one person. Dropping his gaze from the wall, he knew he would volunteer if such a mission came.
His eyes fell onto Guy's sleeping form again and Okita finally got up, turning his head away as he coughed a few times. The sound seemed to echo in the room and he frowned, looking down at his hand. The napkin from his dinner tray served him well enough in cleaning up the red dots he saw and he quickly disposed of the offending thing in his desk drawer, locking it. Then, he made his way across to where Guy was, sitting down on the floor next to him. Maybe he shouldn't disturb the man's sleep in case something terrible had happened, but...
Okita reached out and gently shook Guy's shoulder. "...Guy-san? Guy-san, are you alright?"
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He shoved that feeling down hard. They'd made the right choices. There was no reason to linger over the past. "They're all foolish foreigners," he complained. "I don't expect sense from them." He paused to tap some of the ash from his cigarette onto the floor, for lack of an ashtray. "And yes, I'm sure. Just eat it."
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With his fork hanging from his lips, he sat up a bit, bringing his face closer to Hijikata's. The man was in a particularly huffy mood, possibly because he'd been burned, possibly because Okita had burst into his room and caused him to be burned. Whatever the reason, Okita knew how to make him feel better. He brought his face as close as possible, peering up at him like he was searching for an answer. The fork was removed and he tilted his head to the side, keeping there for a moment.
"Guy-san is an alien, not a foreigner. It's different. You have ash on your sheets." Then he pulled back and lay on his stomach, taking another bite of his newly acquired dessert. "Oh, and how are your injuries? Do the bruises still hurt?"
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"I don't care. It's all the same to be." Foreigner, alien. It didn't matter. They weren't Japanese, and thus lacked sense until proven otherwise. He'd yet to be proven otherwise.
He ignored the remark about the ash. It would just turn into nagging about his smoking habit if he did. "No, they're fine." And truth be told, it wasn't really the bruises that hurt the most. As long as he didn't put pressure on them, they were only a dull ache compared to the less visible injuries he'd suffered from being thrashed around like that.
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Actually, that sounded fantastic. Maybe a bit of a chase around the Sun Room some morning after breakfast or another post of haiku (which would eventually lead to the same thing) for the next day. Yes, that definitely sounded like a wonderful way to get Hijikata to participate with the patients here. Against his will, but the results were the same.
Rolling onto one elbow, Souji reached out and poked at Hijikata's legs and stomach. "And your injuries are fine, so that's why you're lying here and not going outside?"
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He grumbled and grabbed hold of Souji's wrist when he started poking at him. Morning awkwardness be damned, he wasn't going to sit there an be poked just because he wanted to avoid giving the wrong impression by touching him too much.
"I didn't feel like going out," he grumbled in reply. "That's all." It wasn't as if he were postponing any plans by not going out, anyway. If he didn't feel like playing that irritating doctor's games for a night, that was his business, and had nothing to do with the fact that walking was somewhat akin to agony at the moment. Nothing at all.
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"Hijikata-san has an honest face," he teased, moving his free arm now that he wasn't using it to prop himself up so he could finish the last few bites of his gifted dessert. "Were you thinking of something before I came in?"
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"Nothing important," he replied. The last thing he needed was Souji prying into his poetry writing again. "Talked to someone today who was looking for a good sword. I told him I'd investigate getting one." Which was true, after all. He hadn't made any promises to Kurogane, but since Souji was here anyway, he might as well mention it.
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And he still hadn't told Hijikata.
"Oh? The best place is upstairs, but that is still a club secret," he mused, leaning a bit further onto Hijikata. The alchemists were gone now as well... So perhaps a few missions? Those seemed to do well in getting people what they wanted. Or getting killed. Perhaps that wasn't the best idea then. With his dessert finished, he picked the plate up and held it over his head. He couldn't very well get up and put it on the dresser himself since he was wedged in against the wall and he wanted to see if Hijikata would do what he thought he might. "Perhaps we can look below for something. I've heard people get things down there sometimes. Who is it you talked to?"
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"He said his name was Kurogane," he replied, taking the plate from Souji and setting it aside. Better that than Souji deciding he needed to climb over him or something in an attempt to put it away. It certainly wouldn't have helped his attempts to hide how injured he actually was, though just setting the plate down pulled uncomfortably at sore muscles. "He didn't want anyone to put themselves at risk for it, though." It was a sentiment Hijikata shared, quite frankly.
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With the plate taken from his fingers, Okita rolled onto his side, facing the wall with his back pressed up against Hijikata's side. It felt strange to be so close to him like this, but at the same time, the younger swordsman needed comfort and this was the only way he knew how to get it without asking. It wasn't often that he even looked for reassurance and comfort, but after yesterday's happenings and with today's lingering fears, he stayed where he might not normally.
"We all have to risk things if we want to gain anything here," he said quietly, drawing his hands up to his chest to adjust his kimono. "You don't agree, do you. That going upstairs is worth the risk for the rewards it has?"
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He wanted another cigarette, suddenly. Just to have something to occupy his hands so he wouldn't be tempted to try and offer some sort of comfort he wasn't entirely sure was wanted, or even needed. He might have been the demon vice-commander the men of the Shinsengumi feared, but when it came to Souji, he lost all his resolve.
He sighed, instead, and focused on that question, worrying at the tiny burn hole in his kimono to keep himself distracted. "I'm not entirely convinced of the benefits, no," he finally replied, being more candid than he might have been with someone else. "It went badly last time."
They could have all been killed, quite easily. It had been pure luck that none of them had even been seriously injured. "Weapons do us no good if there's no one left to use them." They couldn't drive blindly after resources, ignoring the costs. It wouldn't get them anywhere.
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Rolling over onto his stomach, he wiggled forward and raised himself up on his elbows and forearms, crossing his ankles behind him. Hijikata was being strangely cautious and it bothered him. It was understandable, of course, to be a little wary when the battlefield was unknown and the stakes so high, but the Shinsengumi had never made a reputation for themselves by playing it safe. They were fierce, headstrong, sometimes reckless, always ready for war, and holy terrors when confronted. Propping his chin in his hands, Okita kicked his legs in the air, looking up at Hijikata curiously. What could make him so hesitant?
"......" Taking conversation down that path was a terrible idea, however. He'd come in here to keep Hijikata company, to distract him and himself, and to see if he was going to go out tonight. The stubborn way the man seemed melded to the bed suggested otherwise, which left the other two goals for the evening. And what better way to distract him than to tease? Souji pushed himself onto his hands and scooted forward until he was almost even with Hijikata's face, smiling faintly. "Hijikata-san. You know, seeing how we're already here in your bed..." He paused, letting his words hang in the air. "...Will you tell me a haiku? I'm sleepy and need to wake up."
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"I'm not concerned with protecting anyone else," he replied finally. It was blunt, but there was no point in sugar-coating the issue. He might have been stuck here with all these people, but he didn't have a duty to protect them. He'd been cooperating with the history club for Souji's sake, not because he cared much what happened to the others. He wanted out of here, yes. Wanted to get back to the battles he was supposed to be fighting. It was of no benefit if either he or Souji got themselves killed trying to help out someone else.
He continued to stew over the issue silently while Souji apparently decided it was time to wiggle around and poke at him. He winced a little and tried to cover it with a scowl. "It was luck that we survived it." They'd been up against weaponry they had no means of defending against. Even the greatest swordsman was ineffective against guns and explosives.
Of course, he couldn't expect Souji to see any solution besides fighting. It wasn't in his nature, really. Hijikata had no qualms about heading into battle when the cause warranted action, but they didn't even have a real target here. The man who needed to be hunted down had proven irritatingly elusive, and it seemed like all they would do was wear out their strength trying to chase after him in the manner they had been thus far.
He arched an eyebrow as Souji seemed to abandon the topic of conversation at hand in favor of invading his personal space some more. And one eyebrow shot up at that lingering remark...
Until he finished the question. "No," he replied flatly. "If you're tired take a nap."
There would be no haiku sharing. If he did, it would just have ended up shared around somehow, knowing Souji. He was not about to make that mistake.
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After all, to Souji, anyone with a sword in hand and with a debt to the History Club was just another pawn used in the final game.
He huffed at the refusal to read him poetry and flopped over onto the bed again, face down into the linens. "But I'm boooored and you're not moving," he whined. Although, with his voice muffled by cotton it sounded more like a slightly high pitched buzzing of frustration. For a moment, he went still and then he raised his head, chin resting on the bedding. "You know if it hurts that much, I could give you a massage. Or get you something for it. A compress or salve."
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"It's not my job to entertain you," he grumbled. He dug out another cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, but didn't light it. Not with Souji so close. The last thing he needed, Hijikata was sure, was a lungful of his second-hand smoke. He scowled at the offer--he knew Souji was really trying to help, but there was no way he was going to let down the facade of strength he was clinging to. "You don't need to do that."
He wasn't fine, but he knew he'd recover with time. It wasn't worth fussing over.