Homura obliged, offering no more help that Okita had asked for. The sense of relief at Okita's acceptance without malice couldn't be denied, and Homura returned to his own washing, rinsing off the last of the suds from his body. He had the chance to listen to Okita's words as he did, the man's sentiments very much seeming to echo what the demi-god though Kenren might believe about the situation.
Simply a different side come out to play.
"It doesn't sound like he or I--" again, a compromise "ever got much of a break. I already know that I became the Toushin Taishi. That title is the worse curse the gods could inflict on one of their own." Homura had no illusions, even as he was now. The role was the closest Heaven could come to a true death sentence. To have given it to Homura meant that the gods must have gotten impatient with his new found will to live.
He gave Okita his hand again when it was needed, moving the other to the man's back without realizing it. The gesture was innocent, a light touch only to help Okita sense if he was falling, and nothing more. But now a new question had entered his mind, something he couldn't help but wonder about. For him, it had only been recently that he'd been released from a prison around his soul, that he understood what the desire to live actually felt like. "Okita."
He had to ask. With everything he heard, everything he had become, Homura had to know that at least one thing wasn't in vein. "Do you think that I was satisfied, with how I was living? Not being trapped here, but in my actions and my choices. With...myself."
That would be the key, Homura thought, to seeing if the gods had truly managed to break him, and to seeing if those five hundred years lost were worth missing at all.
no subject
Simply a different side come out to play.
"It doesn't sound like he or I--" again, a compromise "ever got much of a break. I already know that I became the Toushin Taishi. That title is the worse curse the gods could inflict on one of their own." Homura had no illusions, even as he was now. The role was the closest Heaven could come to a true death sentence. To have given it to Homura meant that the gods must have gotten impatient with his new found will to live.
He gave Okita his hand again when it was needed, moving the other to the man's back without realizing it. The gesture was innocent, a light touch only to help Okita sense if he was falling, and nothing more. But now a new question had entered his mind, something he couldn't help but wonder about. For him, it had only been recently that he'd been released from a prison around his soul, that he understood what the desire to live actually felt like. "Okita."
He had to ask. With everything he heard, everything he had become, Homura had to know that at least one thing wasn't in vein. "Do you think that I was satisfied, with how I was living? Not being trapped here, but in my actions and my choices. With...myself."
That would be the key, Homura thought, to seeing if the gods had truly managed to break him, and to seeing if those five hundred years lost were worth missing at all.