It was over. Okita had never felt defeat so keenly as he did now. That damned rurouni standing over him, lecturing him about honorable deaths and honorable lives. Defend the Bakufu? It all sounded like taunts and filth coming from his mouth. Someone who fought to bring the Bakufu down, someone who killed so many of his men - he had no right to talk to him about upholding the honor of the Shinsengumi and defending the government. The Bakufu wasn't Kenshin's government.

The coughing finally stopped and Okita remained on the ground, head lowered as his breathing gradually returned to normal. No blood yet, just pain and the unavoidable future. Raising his head, he refused to look Kenshin in the eyes, instead holding his hand out for the katana still stuck in Kenshin's shoulder. Honorable death or no, he had one option left to him. He'd seek revenge for Hijikata's disappearance and then he'd follow the others as he should have so long ago. Tradition and law dictated that if his enemy left the battlefield alive, he was to kill himself. Eventually, that was what he would do - in one way or another.

"You have something of mine," he said, voice thin and hollow as he motioned to the sword.