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 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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