damned_institute | Dayshift 34: Men's Showers

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Dayshift 34: Men's Showers

Albel had wasted an entire night, but he couldn't quite figure out how he had actually wasted it. He had left his room early, didn't stand around doing nothing and no pathetic worm had dragged him down. Finding Fayt's room and smack the foolish maggot against the nearest wall shouldn't have taken a full night, but yet he found himself back in his bed before he even had so much as located the right door.

What the hell?!

But he didn't have much time to think about it, as one of the wenches instantly stepped into his room as soon he sat up. Had she had been waiting behind the door or something? He ignored her useless babble along the way to the showers. Apparently, he had slept through most of the day. Perhaps the lack of sleep was taking it's toll, though the warrior wouldn't even think about admitting that thought. And who cared about it anyway? The days were useless!

By the looks of things, Albel was the first one to arrive. Not that he cared. After stripping himself of his clothing he stepped inside the shower area and picked a stall by random. It took some fiddling with the knobs before the water temperature was good enough, but he eventually let the water wash over his body.

[Free!]

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Homura was growing more used to the sense of awareness he possessed now; in many ways, it was nicer this way, not being surprised when he was joined. Especially since so many of the ones who did join him were people his former self had known; there was less to deal with without the additional shock of being approached.

"Very little here does. They took my memory last night." Homura looked over the man, his own mood not a happy one. Clearly this person had been injured as well, probably after he'd left the chapel. It looked like he was struggling even to stand, and Homura supposed he should at least be thankful that, physically, he was fine.

Still, the injuries were concerning for more than one reason. Okita was the one, the single person Homura had named. Not even Kenren Taisho had been asked to save Rinrei. But there were so many concerns, and so many questions.

"I left a note for you. Some time before I was taken." Homura ignored the act of cleaning, the water splashing down on him, everything. He wouldn't need to be specific to be understood. Not if Okita was a person whom he should've written a note like that to. "I asked you to save her."

Just as he thought. Homura had lost his memories and, if evidence on the board meant anything, he'd lost a great deal of them. He didn't recognize his own group anymore, let alone his goals and wha--

Okita paused for a moment as he realized just what that meant. He could use this to his advantage if he really wanted to. The truce was no longer a part of Homura's memory, forgotten like it had never existed. Given time... Sighing, he reached out and took the washcloth, soaping it up as he pushed that thought out of his head. It would be dishonorable. He knew of it, and that was enough. Hijikata knew of it, too, and honor was more important than killing off an ally who used to be an enemy.

"I thought as much when I saw your messages on the board." Taking care to avoid the cuts and bites and the glaring stab wound in his side, Okita tried his best to wash himself off. He wanted to scrub, but with Homura's memory loss, the first impression he wanted to make was not that he was insane. He wouldn't admit that he knew (or rather suspected) that Homura had been next door. The man didn't need to know Okita had been taken, too.

The note, however, was news to him and he looked over at the demi-god, raising an eyebrow. "Save 'her'?" That could only be one person and, in a way, Okita was surprised Homura would trust him with such a heavy task. Then again, on the other hand, Homura was the person he had become closest to besides Hijikata since arriving here. "Rinrei-san, yes?"

Homura had been watching as Okita thought over his words, then let out a sigh. He had a feeling that the man had just resolved another matter, but Homura would have to bring it up anyway, at least eventually. For now, his own issues were more important, and Homura felt a mounting sense of urgency with each passing moment.

"I'm sure. It's not something easy to hide." It must have been obvious to Okita, if he was as close to Homura's future self as the demi-god suspected. Closing his eyes for a moment, Homura leaned his head back in the water, as if it could somehow wash away the lingering doubts and confusion. People seemed to take him with mixed feelings, some eager to defend him, and others eager to spit their curses at him, along with others for merely associating with him. None of it, however, answered the question of who he had become, what he had done during all that time he'd forgotten.

Would Okita know?

He knew Rinrei's name, and that was a sign. Nodding slightly, Homura again turned his head to look at Okita, not with the harshness he'd so often displayed, but naked hope. "Yes." Homura felt a sense of helplessness with that single word, an emotion he instantly despised. Could his future self have done it, somehow? With the experience he was supposed to have, the leadership abilities, was it possible?

More and more, Homura thought that it was, but only for the person he had become, and who he no longer was.

"I need to know who I was." Homura suddenly felt so tired then, the events of the day leaving him emotionally drained. "You're the one I asked to save her. That means you would be the one who would know best."

It was strange, seeing this other side of Homura. Certainly, Okita had caught glimpses of it before when they had first met so it wasn't entirely new, but having this be the dominant personality was a little unsettling. It was like Okita was prying into Homura's innermost mind, the innocence and sentimentality that he had only caught snippets of when the demi-god saw flowers or indulged in memories. It was the same quiet he had witnessed in the chapel when Homura braided his hair, but now it lacked that hard edge of loss and pent-up frustrations.

Studying Homura now, it almost felt like he was watching a new recruit. Hope and youth and fear all rolled into one unsettled package as they stepped over the threshold into the compound, ready to begin their training and adopt the strict code of honor that would be both their mantle and their yoke. But Okita wasn't here to see what Homura was now, but what he had been. He had to think like Homura would in order to find the reason why the demi-god would leave Rinrei in his hands. In case something were to happen to him... "You told me she was here and you saw her, but that they changed her memories somehow. She now believes you are this Ethan person, not yourself." Okita caught a spot of something on his skin and rubbed harder at it with the washcloth. "Still, the very fact that she is alive here - that is something, and it gave you a new resolve for escaping."

His plan. The one he'd spoken of to only a few people, and only in hushed tones. Okita had agreed to go along with it, even if he hadn't fully understood the details. Scrubbing harder at the spot that he could no longer see, Okita forced himself to move his hand away and kept his attention on Homura's request. Focusing on the demi-god helped keep him a bit more level inside. Okita remained quiet for several minutes, washing as he thought over just what to say and how. It wasn't going to be a pleasant talk, but it was necessary and when Okita finally spoke, he stopped washing to look at the other man straight on. The smiles and pleasant facade were dropped in favor of a more business-like tone. "You are going to hear things that you may find unpleasant as you are now. Are you at peace with that?"

What Okita was thinking during that silence, Homura couldn't guess. Perhaps he would have been able to, before, but now there was only waiting, and the growing sense of impatience that came with it. Only now, when he was so close to the person he believed would know him best, did he realize some greater sense of loss. He knew he had something precious taken from him, and for the first time, he wished it back. Not for the change that would happen, but to simply know, to better understand everything going on around him.

"Ethan O'Dell." That was all Homura said in reply to the information about Rinrei, but certainly not all he thought. Wiping her memories as well; something like that would happen in reincarnation, but that was something only the gods had been able to do. Given his most recent experience, Homura couldn't help a spark of anger at the prison that housed him. Had they dared do that to Rinrei? A new resolve for escaping didn't seem enough. Homura, even as he was now, thought it gave him a new resolve to tear this place to the ground.

The silence stretched, and for a few moments, he wondered if this was what mortality felt like. Just when he was about to speak, to urge Okita on, the man spoke again, giving him a warning of sorts. Okita wasn't pretending to smile, and Homura appreciated that. "Even if they're unpleasant, they are still true, aren't they?" Homura gave Okita a faint grin at the choice, then nodded. "Tell me."

Without the years of cold calculation, Okita was getting a chance to see what traits were inherent to Homura's personality. The guarded innocence was one. The impatience, another. He hadn't yet learned how to wait 500 years for something to come to fruition. And the anger. Okita saw it flare up in Homura's eyes when he thought of Rinrei. A righteous, burning rage at what had taken her away from him.

Before he could speak, however, Okita needed to rest. Standing beneath the spray of water was taxing his wounds, so he pushed the showerhead off to the side a little and took a seat on the small plastic stool provided. He was going to be in sad shape tonight, and if he wasn't careful, Hijikata was going to worry himself to death. Touching the bandages, he was displeased to see that moving around even this little bit had caused the wound in his side to bleed. Annoying.

"It seems that's another thing that is innately you, Homura-san. You're not one to shirk from the nasty truths." Time to talk then, he supposed. "I assume you've gotten the basics from Kenren-san as I saw him with you most of the morning, and I noticed your altercation with Sanzo-san, so I'm betting you know how well your relationship with that man is faring. You are unapologetic for who you are, Homura-san, and that sometimes makes you unpopular with the more stubborn of the patients here. You have a keen eye for power and its only the powerful or useful that you've drawn close to you. I know because the only reason we started out together is because I have a sword arm and it was far more favorable to have me on your side than against. To achieve what you want - revenge, destruction of this place, and to return Rinrei to you - you can be ruthless and you know how to wait things out until the most opportune moment to strike."

Talking should not have been such a laborious task and Okita paused for a moment, pressing a hand to his side again. The wound ached, sending jolts of pain through him as it protested to being touched. The pain focused his mind though and that was what he needed. "You're also a leader - our leader. You understand well what is happening within your group and keep certain elements apart for the sake of stability. You read people, Homura-san, it's something you're very good at. And when you notice something off in a person, you press it relentlessly - sometimes in subtle ways - until you find out what it is. In short, you're smart, ruthless and devoted to your cause, but you're not without..." Okita paused as he wondered just what word to use. "Soft spots. Flowers, for one. And when you're with someone you're comfortable around, you fall prey to your memories of her."

Homura watched in obvious concern as Okita moved. He had known it would have to be bad, simply from the visible extent of the man's injuries. If he'd still remembered his past, would he have been able to tell how much the man was straining himself? The thought didn't seem to matter, and Homura moved to Okita, looking down at him with sympathy.

"Is there any way I can help?" Not only because this man was telling him so much, but because he liked Okita's bluntness. He'd hidden nothing in his description, painting a picture that was cold and effective, one that Homura as he was didn't know if he could like. It sounded so different from who he was now, and part of him knew that it made sense to be. Five hundred years, with so much blood on his hands, so much lost. Maybe the path wasn't so foreign to him as he would have liked to believe.

Cruel, calculating. Homura focused on the other things, the parts of him that seemed to linger even after all that time, letting the rest of that description settle in. "She helped me find my purpose. She is my purpose." Homura spoke softly, not yet making a move to touch Okita without his consent. "For me, there was no life until I decided to protect her."

"So I'm glad that I have those soft spots." Homura let out a long sigh, his head tilting forward as he closed his eyes. "Thank you for that. I think that's probably the most complete description I've gotten."

Edited 2008-08-11 06:27 (UTC)

If this was still the Homura from before, Okita never would have sat before him. It was a display of weakness, something he could not afford and would not allow himself. Now, however, Okita knew that if he sat down and took the weight off his injuries, Homura would not be judging his effectiveness for the night. He would not be wondering just how much of a use Okita would be that night, or running through lists in his head to see who was available to heal. In effect, they were back at square one with Homura being a new person.

Shaking his head, Okita waved Homura off and reached forward, grabbing the conditioner first before putting it back and finding the shampoo. "I'll be fine with a little rest." At least on the surface he would be, but Homura didn't need to know that. There was no need for anyone to know what was happening until it was too difficult to hide anymore.

"She's lucky, to have someone so devoted to her," Okita said, smiling up at Homura. The dedication was something the swordsman had always admired, knowing exactly what it felt like to have one person become the entire world to someone. He'd lost it once and he wasn't about to lose it again. "There's no need to thank me, but if you'd like to pay me back..." Okita held the shampoo bottle up in his left hand, keeping his right held tightly against his side. "Mind washing my hair?"

Homura, of course, had little idea that Okita was comparing him to his future self, though if he had stopped to consider it, he might have realized how obvious it was. At that moment, however, he was consumed by his own thoughts, of everything he had learned that day, up to that very moment. It was enough that he only half-heard Okita's comments, the words slow to register. When the other held up the shampoo bottle, Homura stared at him in confusion for a moment, then let out a soft breath before taking the bottle. "Not at all."

He wasn't so quick to agree that Rinrei was lucky, however. Even if her memories were twisted, the last she knew of him, Homura was as he was now. Certainly not the ruthless leader Okita had described. Would she still want him, after what he had become? It was a disturbing though, but one Homura was able to quickly decide didn't matter. He wanted Rinrei to be happy, whatever the cost.

Homura would become what he needed to. And perhaps that was what his future self had decided too.

"I hope you don't mind if I ask you something." Homura spread the shampoo over his hands, then began working his fingers through Okita's hair with a gentle touch, something natural for him when he was like this. "Why did you decide to follow me?"

If he hadn't been incapable of doing it himself, Okita never would have let anyone else touch him. Even allies and others in the Shinsengumi weren't allowed much physical contact. They all understood that it wasn't that he didn't trust them, but rather that Okita generally disliked touching. The feel of someone else's hands on him always set him on edge for some reason or another. Now, however, he needed the help and Homura was the only one available. The gentleness in his hands, however, was unexpected even while it was appreciated.

The question Homura asked was just another in the string of unexpected events in their conversation so far. Why had Okita decided to follow Homura? He recalled their first meeting with the flowers, and how after they'd gone to see Adel and the teasing that followed. Homura had promised Okita a weapon in exchange for not killing Himura, but he had also filled a void that Okita had felt all too keenly when he first arrived. "You provided everything I lacked," he said finally after a long moment of consideration. "I needed a weapon and you offered one. I lacked direction and you gave me the choice to join you or continue aimlessly." He paused again and smiled, closing his eyes to keep the suds from getting in them. "And you reminded me of someone else at first. You're both very similar to each other and, I suppose, it felt comfortable being near you."

Okita tilted his head back and cracked an eye open, smiling up at Homura now. "I suppose you don't remember now, but you have quite the commanding presence when you chose to exercise it."

Homura remained unaware of Okita's disdain for physical contact. In a way, it felt nice to be doing something like this for someone, even if he would much prefer the hair to be a particular shade of honey blond. The stray thought, however, reminded him of last night, a woman's face he couldn't see, but hair colored just the same, and unconsciously the demi-god's hands tensed.

That woman was the one who had done it all, claiming it was for his own good. To return something he had lost. To have known the exact shade of hair--had she taken more than just his memories away?

But then Okita broke the silence with his reply, and Homura relaxed, mostly, releasing a breath he'd been unaware of holding. So for Okita, he had been a substitute of sorts, the odd-fitting replacement for what the other had lost. Feeling the sting of such a loss now, Homura thought he could understand Okita's feelings, at least to some degree. "I'm glad I could do that for you, even if I don't remember."

He was caught off guard by the other man's smile, something that to him seemed real. He hesitated for a moment, then smiled back, though it was nothing like the typical arrogant smirk his past and future self bore. "That person I reminded you of. Are they...here now?" Were they taken as Rinrei had been? In a way, Homura hoped that even as terrible as this place was, now that he could no fill that void for Okita, there would be someone who could.

Tense fingers in his hair and Okita wondered just what it was that triggered that. Memories, no doubt, but of what? Homura wasn't one to tense when he recalled Rinrei, so why now? What had happened last night? Too many questions and Okita wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask anymore. Or if he even wanted to ask. Some things were to remain private and what happened in the rooms was probably one of them.

Feeling Homura relax, Okita did the same, keeping the smile on his face. This new Homura wasn't bad, but he wasn't a leader. Not yet. He wasn't tainted by war or bloodshed, or hardened by years of struggles to own a rank and title. It seemed wrong to push him back into the leadership. It was like putting a blade into Tetsu's hands again.

Dropping his head forward again, Okita closed his eyes and nodded lightly. "Yes, but they were taken from me once. You stopped me from doing something foolish then and-" He paused, wondering if he should admit the rest or not. Homura might not remember their past, but eventually all this information would remain stored up in him. If Homura were ever to remember what he was, would he use any of this against Okita? It was a risk and one that Okita wasn't willing to take with anyone. "You kept me grounded until they returned. I am very thankful for that."

Not tainted was a phrase Homura never heard used to describe him, and if Okita had said the thought out loud, the demi-god would have laughed. As it was, he finished working his fingers through Okita's hair, building a solid lather, then moving to the man's side to offer a hand. It might not be appropriate, since the other had moved on his own before, and something told Homura that he was broaching being insulting by it. Yet at the same time, he had seen Okita's prior movements, and simply didn't feel right not offering some sort of help. At the very least, the demi-god compromised by keeping his voice low, the water ensuring only Okita would hear him.

"You can rinse it out now. I'll support your weight if you need."

Homura couldn't help but wonder what Okita had almost said in that pause, but decided not to pry. It might be something private, something that he'd forgotten along with all the other things, and despite the insistence that he was the same person as his future self, Homura thought it would be almost an intrusion to ask. As it was, he got an idea of Okita's gratitude from what the man did say, and Homura chuckled softly as he shook his head. "Considering what I asked you to do for me, there's really no need to thank me. But I am glad that--" And here was where it got tricky again. Who was it that had really saved Okita? This praise wasn't meant for the person he was now. "--he was able to help."

"Just a hand up will be fine." He wasn't above getting help, but he could stand on his own two feet no matter how much it hurt. The soapy water was going to sting, but no worse than it had been already. Taking Homura's hand, he pulled himself up and winced involuntarily as his broken ribs reminded him why the wheeled chair was an asset not a burden. Holding onto Homura's hand for just a moment longer while he got his balance, he eventually let go and moved under the spray of water, holding his breath as it pounded down on him.

He pulled his head back out to breathe and caught what Homura said as he did so. Apparently, Homura saw his future self as someone entirely different. That wasn't going to do at all. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed the wet strands out of his face and looked at Homura over his shoulder. "Yes, you were very helpful then. I don't see a difference between you as you are now and the you that you'll become, Homura-san." The shampoo seemed to be out now and he stepped back, reaching out again for Homura's hand to steady himself. "It's merely that the other side of you gets to come out to play now. It's refreshing to see it, really." Okita smiled and laughed, able to focus a little better now that he wasn't covered in grime from last night. "I was thinking you needed a break from all that tension before you started getting worry lines in your forehead."

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.

The worst curse, perhaps, but one that Homura had taken and made his own. Okita had never known gods before coming here, but Homura embodied what he'd always thought they should be. Certainly, he was confident, at times arrogant, but he was also competent and fair. He offered choices and respected them. Even when the choice went against his own wishes. "Perhaps, but--"

The touch at his back set him on edge and Okita stiffened. No one touched his back. Even allies knew that it was a sore spot for him, but at the moment - he had to remind himself of this - Homura did not know that. He turned slightly to move the hand away from such a vulnerable location, smiling up at the demi-god to let him know there were no hard feelings - just years of training.

And then came Homura's question. "Your choices were your own and you valued that ability to choose more than anything. I don't believe you would have done what you did if you were not satisfied with it and yourself." He still remembered how Homura commanded his title, really owned it when he needed to - it had been impressive enough that Okita had turned to him as a leader. "And people believed in you, Homura-san. They still do. Enough that they were willing to die for you and your cause."

Okita had been on the verge of saying something, but his words cut off, and Homura frowned in concern. He didn't understand what had broken off the other man, not until Okita turned, breaking contact with the demi-gods hand. Even then, Homura didn't understand why, but Okita's smile served as reassurance, and perhaps a silent plea. With a small nod, Homura let that hand fall to his side again.

He thought over Okita's answer, a faint smile playing at his lips. Valuing the ability to choose. Homura could certainly see that, since he had had so little choice in his life. He had not opted to be born as he was, and yet every day he lived under the pressure of it. Even freedom from the literal prison of Heaven was nothing more than an illusion, sending him into the Heavens in hopes that Homura would succumb to the despair. Then he had met Rinrei, and what that had begun--

A man people were willing to die for. Homura couldn't help a swell of pride at hearing that, mixed with an equal amount of sadness.

"Thank you, Okita." Homura felt better for the talk they'd had, certainly. Despite what others such as Sanzo might think, Homura decided then that the person he had become was someone worth becoming, and perhaps it would be possible to turn that way again.

At that moment, however, Homura was struck by the fact that the entire conversation had been about himself, and none of it about Okita. Of course the demi-god was curious to find out about this man as well, the one person he had asked to save Rinrei. Smiling to him, Homura chuckled lightly. "Would you tell me about yourself? I would like to get to know you again, if you wouldn't mind."

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Dayshift 34: Men's Showers

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