damned_institute | Nightshift 35: West Wing, South Hall 1-A

[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/461936.html?thread=37554544#t37554544)]

Sanosuke had broken into a run to get away from the bugs, and thankfully it seemed to have worked. He managed to get away with only the single bite to his face, and that blood he wiped away easily enough. Now he just had to wait for Kenshin, and not get eaten by anything else in the meantime.

Using the light stick, Sanosuke studied the hall he was in. He didn't have to look around too hard to see a familiar figure, hunched over with his hands over his ears like something was very wrong.

Shit.

Okita wasn't the guy Sano had wanted to run into. They didn't like each other a whole hell of a lot, but maybe they would have if Kenshin and Okita hadn't been on opposite sides during the war. And they did have a truce going on, even an alliance; all in all, Sanosuke didn't feel right ignoring the guy without at least asking if there was some way he could help. He started to approach the swordsman, making sure to call out so he wouldn't startle the guy and end up on the receiving end of a blade.

"Hey, Okita." Loud enough so he'd be heard even through Okita's hands, Sano moved closer. The guy didn't look hurt, but something was definitely wrong. Hopefully that something would be easy to fix, and as he finally moved next to the man, Sano dropped his volume to a normal level. "What's going on?"

The longer Okita had to think, the more tangled his thoughts became. Why was it that losing Hijikata did this to him? Why was he so weak-willed that something like this could throw him off balance? Guy wasn't falling apart. Kenren wasn't falling apart. No one, but him. He needed time alone to think this over and learn how to deal with it better, but he never had that time. He was always on duty, always on alert, and--

"Hey, Okita."

That voice. The voice belonging to one of the few people here Okita didn't want to see. Wherever Sagara Sanosuke was, that damned rurouni wasn't far behind. His enemies coming to laugh at his misfortune. Even if Kenshin had such lofty ideals now, the man had killed so many of his friends and probably had slain some of his unit at one point. Hijikata was gone again and here the Choushuu came.

The timing was too convenient.

"What's going on?" His voice sounded hollow, even to him. Disgusting. He was breaking and that sort of weakness was probably what made him such a perfect lab rat to these people. Dirty, digusting experiments seeping into his lungs. Lowering his hands, Okita slipped his fingers into his sleeve, grabbing one of the pens clipped there. If Sanosuke didn't leave, he'd kill him. The truce, without Hijikata and without Homura, wasn't worth upholding. Still, he had to warn the man. Even a demon gave a warning shot. "Get away from me."

A string of curses went through Sano's mind when he heard Okita speak. He'd heard that tone before, knew the look he'd see if Okita's eyes met his. He'd seen it back when Kenshin fought Saitou, when the Battousai rose to the surface and no one but that rat-looking police chief had been able to get through to them both. The big difference was though, Okita wasn't like Kenshin. Okita didn't give a damn who he killed. And lucky Sanosuke happened to be right there. He couldn't win in a fight against Okita. Sanosuke knew that, clear as day, didn't have a single doubt in his mind about it. But he knew something else too. He knew that Kenshin would be there any second, looking for Sano, and finding hell unleashed in Okita.

"Hey, calm down." Sanosuke was wary, watching Okita's swordhand. He wasn't as quick as Kenshin, but if Okita went for the blade he'd see it, and he could dodge it.

"Look, I don't know what happened, but we haven't done anything to break the truce." Unless Okita didn't think it mattered any more since Homura had gotten messed up by the Institute. It didn't matter though. Sanosuke still had to try, or things would get damn ugly damn quick. Kenshin had already told him Battousai was under the surface again. And if anyone could bring him back out, it'd be the guy standing right there next to him.

Sanosuke couldn't let that happen. Not that he had a fucking clue how to stop it. But what the hell else was he supposed to do?

Calm down? Calm down? His vice commander was missing - no, more than missing, he was gone - Homura was out of commission, Kenren was too far away, there wasn't anyone for him to look to for guidance, and he was dying slowly from that vile crap the doctor had forced him to drink. How could he calm down at a time like this?! The only people the truce mattered to were gone. Technically, Okita had only agreed to it because Hijikata had ordered him to and he wasn't here anymore.

Sano said he hadn't done anything to break the truce, huh? How did Okita know that? Maybe it had been them who turned Hijikata over to the enemy, to weaken the Shinsengumi even further. He knew that couldn't be the case, but he wasn't exactly thinking straight right now. Even if this broke the truce and he died, he didn't really care anymore. Whipping a pen from his sleeve, Okita turned and stabbed it straight at Sano's neck, screaming, "You don't have the right to tell me to calm down!"

There weren't enough words in the entire Japanese language to say just how absolutely fucked Sanosuke was. He'd been watching for sword, not a pen, and Okita was so fast it looked like a god damn blur. The best Sano had been able to do was jerk all his weight to the right, the pen sinking deep into the gap of his collarbone near his shoulder. And that fucking hurt.

"What the hell?!" Sanosuke moved back quickly, raising his fists up to get ready for the next attack. He had to stop Okita long enough to get away and warn Kenshin, and he only had one attack that could do that. Problem was that landing the Futae no Kiwami on someone with Okita's speed was a hell of a lot easier to say than do, and for the moment, Sanosuke had to focus on not dying.

"What the hell happened to you?!" Sano didn't know what had set Okita off, but this shit was serious. There had to be some way to get the guy to calm down or something. He just had to think of it. Now would be good.

There. Blood. The smell of it was both enough to turn his stomach and invite his appetite. He hated how he changed as soon as blood was spilled, but he needed it right now. He needed to be an unthinking, emotionless machine. Sano moved away and Okita ripped the pen out, his vision tunneling down to Sano and nothing else. Just his enemy, who wasn't really his enemy, just an unlucky guy in the wrong place at the wrong time. He would have felt sorry for him, if he'd been able to feel anything at the moment.

Blood dripped off the pen and onto the ground and Okita grit his teeth. He had to calm down, but-- No, he couldn't. He needed a release for his anger and it was easier to go and throw himself into some meaningless battle than to think about how he'd been abandoned again. Always left behind, always given away. He'd thought he'd have a place with the Shinsengumi forever, but even then, he knew they went off to their final battles without him. "What do you think happened?" Okita snapped, tightening his grip on the pen. He wouldn't pull his sword, he wouldn't kill Sano without a damn good reason. He had at least that much common sense left. Darting forward, Okita brought the pen around again, aiming for Sano's arm.

"How the hell should I know?!" Sanosuke was just as quick to snap back, his anger at the entire situation rising. He could still feel pain radiating from the first stab, and it was only made worse when Sano took the second blow to his left arm. But the fighter grit his teeth, because now he had what what he wanted.

"I just saw you looking like shit and wanted to help, and you start doing crap like this!" Endurance was Sanosuke's strong suit, and it always had been. So even as the pen stabbed deep into his forearm, he fought through it, bringing his right fist up at Okita's ribs. A Futae no Kiwami there would be bad, but what else could he do? If shattering the guy's ribcage got him to stop making him a fucking pincushion, Sanosuke could see a downside just then.

And he had to stop this fight, before Kenshin got there and things really went to shit.

Okita understood anger and he knew why Sano was angry. He had nothing to do with Hijikata's disappearance and, therefore, didn't know why Okita was suddenly lashing out at him. It wasn't fair, but Okita needed to get out this energy. He needed someone to focus his rage on or he'd self-destruct. He couldn't get to Martin Landel yet, but when he did, he'd wish it was Hijikata doing the torture instead of him. All his pent up frustration at being kept here twice while his leader went free rushed out and he couldn't stop himself as he smiled when the pen dug deep into Sano's forearm.

But then Sano was finally fighting back and Okita was forced to leave the pen behind as he quickly jumped out of the way. Not fast enough though. A glancing blow struck him in the stomach as he slid back and away from the full force of the attack and Okita felt his muscles spasm. Reflexively, he began coughing and he knew that it wasn't the disease, but internal bruising and bleeding now. Wonderful. Looking at his hand, he could see spots of blood, but it felt all wrong. All of it. Another pen was pulled out of his sleeve, leaving thin red trails on the fabric as he stood and faced Sano again. "...give him back," he growled, clutching the pen hard in slippery fingers. Running forward again, Okita attacked on Sano's injured side, aiming a hard kick at the pen still in his arm.

Okita was right on the mark with his reasoning, and Sanosuke, for his part, was getting more and more pissed off by the second. He still didn't have a fucking clue why the bastard was after him, and the strike that should've ended it barely got a graze in. The futae no kiwami was damn powerful, but Sano knew that he'd have to get a full on strike to make Okita stop.

The guy was already coming at him again, shouting something that Sano almost didn't hear at first. He wasn't thinking about the pen lodged in his arm, and when Okita's kick connected, Sanosuke let out a cry of pain, the sensation sharp as it ran the length of the limb. But Sano could take the agony, so long as he gave some back. Even an amateur could get a hit in, right Saitou?

"Who the hell are you talking about?!" The words had registered, and Sanosuke was starting to get it. Like when Zuko vanished--now someone else was gone too. Someone important enough to drive Okita nuts.

Oh, fuck.

"God damn you, would you listen Okita?! I don't know where Hijikata is! Not if they took him!" Sanosuke took a shot at Okita's jaw, a hard right, but just a regular punch. He had to be careful now, since the bones in his hand would break if he put too much strain on them. He was already going to get his ass chewed out by Kenshin for this.

The pen drove further into Sano's arm and Okita was about to bring the second pen up to finish the job when Sano had to say that. If they took him. If anyone took him. If he left, if he had been killed, if he just disappeared. No one would ever know anything and not knowing was driving Okita insane. Why couldn't he ever catch a break? Why couldn't he learn to be stronger? Why did this place get to him so much?

Hearing Hijikata's name jolted Okita out for a second and he stopped, the pen midstrike. What would his leader say to see him losing control like this? He'd be disappointed. He'd--

A hard punch cracked him in the side of the face and he twisted to the side, stumbling from the blow. Tasting blood on his lips again, Okita touched his mouth and frowned. That was going to bruise tomorrow. He really didn't like bruises. Straightening up, he stared down at his hand and the frown melted away into something indescribable. He was tainted with his blood and the blood of his opponent. It was all so very...dirty. "...of course you don't know where he is," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Sanosuke-san. You caught me at a very bad time."

The pen switched around again and he whipped out at Sano, striking for his side.

So that's what it was. Fucking hell, it was Sanosuke all over again, less than a year ago as goddamn Zanza. Picking fights, getting stronger, all to try and forget how much it hurt to have been too fucking weak to help in the first place. Sanosuke had this moment of clarity, and it only pissed him off more. And to make everything all the worse, Okita was better than Sanosuke was at this shit. He was faster, more nimble, and had more experience. Sano would've needed another ten years--no, he'd need another fucking Bakamatsu to catch up with the guy.

But damn it all to hell, it was the same. The same way Sano had been, and the same way Anji had been. And that was why, even as the pen went into his side, dug into his guts and made Sanosuke scream, the fighter decided he wasn't giving up the fight.

It was bad. Sano didn't know what Okita had hit, but already he was feeling shaky on his legs. He stumbled back as quick as he could, clutching his side with his right arm while his left just dangled. So fucking bad, yet even as he gasped for air (fuck, when had he lost his goddamn breath?) he smiled.

It wasn't happy.

"You think this is really going to do you any good? You think it's going to do him any good? Huh Okita?!" Sanosuke was bitter with understanding. He knew what was going through Okita's head, because it had gone through his. And he knew that if someone could get through that thick Shinsengumi skull, it probably wasn't going to be him. "You can fight every person in the goddamn building and it won't get him back! It won't make things any fucking bett--"

Sanosuke's voice was cut off just then, and the fighter let go of his side. He knew that coppery taste that he was coughing up. Wouldn't it just figure, Okita would hit a lung? This fucking night was just shot to hell. "You think you're the only one who's lost someone? It won't make a bit of difference to you, but I did what you're doing, and it doesn't fucking work."

There. He'd said it. Blood was leaking out of his mouth and shit, he couldn't breathe, but he'd forced the words out. And Sanosuke wasn't done yet either. Oh hell no. He had his fist and he was still on his feet, damn it. He wasn't done.

"Come on." His left arm was useless, but his right wasn't. The aku was still on his back, and damn it all, Sano could still fight. "There's no way in fucking hell I'm going to lose to a guy acting like you are."

Kenshin knew the smell of blood well. At one point in his life, it had soaked him completely. He hadn't been able to get it off of him, no matter how much he bathed. So as soon as he came through the door and the familiar sent hit him, he knew that something was terribly wrong.

And it was.

Sano and Okita were squaring off in the hallway, and they both looked the worse for wear. From the irregular sound of Sano's breathing, he probably had serious internal injuries, maybe even a punctured lung. If he didn't get medical attention soon, he could drown in his own blood. In a flash, the rurouni had put himself between them, sword drawn.

"ENOUGH!" he shouted. "Sano, what's going on?!"

Leaving the pen stuck in Sano's side, Okita stepped back and opened his stance, putting a hand to his sword. No, it wasn't going to do him any good. Nothing Okita ever did here did Hijikata any good. Giving him information, helping him, teasing him - none of it did anything but cause him to disappear again. "Nothing will ever make it better."

Hijikata had returned home only to die where Okita couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. Even if he hadn't and he'd been taken and brainwashed, wasn't that worse? Okita knew he was acting irrationally, which only made him worse when Sano called him on it. It was easier to be a demon here than be a human. At night was when the demons came to play, so why not him as well?

And then an interloper from the side - Kenshin appeared and started shouting, sword drawn.

Kenshin had his sword drawn.

Okita smiled mirthlessly and pulled his out, slipping one foot back as he trained his gaze on the rurouni. It was time for the demons to play. "Don't draw your sword unless you mean to use it, Himura-san."

"No shit." Sanosuke knew just how true it was, saying nothing would ever make it better. But that didn't mean there wasn't still shit to do. Escaping from here, and hell, seeing if there was a way to save Hijikata and the other people who had vanished. Maybe it wouldn't do a damn bit of good for them in the long run, or maybe it would fuck up history. But it was fucking better than this!

Problem was, despite his claim, Sanosuke was having more trouble breathing by the minute. No telling how much longer he could stand, or when he's start coughing up blood again and leave himself open even worse than he was now. Except it wasn't going to be a problem after all, because just then the best and worst thing that could have happened happened.

Sanosuke knew right away just how fucked they all were.

"Kenshin." He had to cough again, spitting out a red glob before he could say anymore. "Hijikata's gone, and Okita's snapped." He wiped away the blood from his lips with his right hand, knowing what was going to happen. Okita wouldn't let them walk away, not with how he was. And Kenshin was going to fight, and damn it all to hell, Sanosuke could still hear the rurouni talking about how Battousai had come back before. He could be stubborn sometimes, but Sanosuke wasn't so stupid as to not know how this would end.

Especially since he couldn't stop it. What was he going to say? No Kenshin, you can't fight Okita? Like hell that would work. Sanosuke gasped hard, fighting the urge to clutch his wounds, to just stumble back and fall. "Kenshin. Just...be careful, god damn it. Whatever you do."

Sanosuke didn't want Kenshin to die. He didn't want Kenshin to kill. But right then, he didn't know how the fuck to keep either of those things from happening.

Hearing that cough, seeing the blood, made Kenshin wince like it was his own. In a way, it was much more frightening than any of the other injuries he'd seen Sano get in their time together. Internal bleeding was something that couldn't be fixed very easily, and in their time it often meant infection and a slow, painful death, even with the ministrations of doctors like Megumi. There was no doubt in his mind now that Okita had managed to puncture Sanosuke's lung, and that made him angry...and ashamed. He hadn't been there. He'd left Sanosuke to fight a crazed captain of the Shinsengumi while he'd been dealing with insects.

It shouldn't have come to this. Sano shouldn't have been involved in this fight. This was between him and Okita. Just like the time with Saitou, the ten year grudge needed to be settled. "Don't worry, Sano," he replied flatly.

The rurouni then turned on Okita, eyes flashing. "It doesn't look like this one has a choice. He will not forgive anyone who hurts his friends."

With that, he lunged.

So it came down to this. After days of circling each other and keeping the thinnest of alliances, here it fell like a forest to a fire. Homura wasn't around to keep Okita at bay, Sano was taken care of, and now no one stood between him and the Battousai. This was a fight he'd been craving, whether he won or he lost, he needed to resolve this. In fact, Okita didn't really see a downside to losing this battle.

Which made him dangerous. He had nothing left to lose here and everything to take and reclaim, and he didn't care how he did it so long as someone ended up dead. As Okita heard Himura's speech patterns change, his smile widened into something a little more manic as the humanity drained out of his eyes. This was more like it.

It was time to face the Battousai.

Kenshin lunged and Okita watched his shoulders and his hips, calculating where he'd strike and moving his blade to block. The sound of metal singing as it smashed against metal ricocheted off the wall and Okita felt his mind slipping from him. He remembered these sounds and the beautiful horror that usually came with it. They were part of it now. Twisting, he kicked a foot out and aimed it at Kenshin's stomach.

Don't worry? Yeah, because it was really that easy. Sanosuke just had a little internal bleeding plus a limp arm, one of Kenshin's worst enemies ever had completely lost his mind, and Kenshin was going to fight him without the use of his greatest technique. Now he just needed that damn giggly ghost from before to show up, and things would be fucking perfect.

They were already fighting too, the sound of swords clashing familiar even to him. Sano'd seen enough sword fights to know how it worked, and he knew enough about Kenshin to know how this would work, even as he hoped he was wrong. Maybe Okita would slip in his madness, somehow get less accurate, and leave an opening for Kenshin to capitalize on.

Yeah right.

Sanosuke stumbled back, not because he wanted to get out of the way of the fight, because he had to. Another round of coughing, this one enough to drive the fighter to his knees. It really was getting worse. More blood was coming out of his mouth, out of his lung, and damn if the hall wasn't somehow getting darker. He couldn't blame it on his flashlight either.

Shit.

Okita may have had a longer reach than Kenshin, but the rurouni had speed on his side. He dodged Okita's kick and fell back to the wall, pushing off of it to add momentum to his next swing. Already, he was falling back into the old pattern, the strange almost-disconnect between mind and body. Attack, block. Se an opening, respond with a strike. The movements were automatic, letting him assess the situation. There was a pressure point under the armpit. Striking it would completely immobilize Okita without hurting him too badly. Even now, he was still thinking as the rurouni.

The sakabatou swung in a wide, almost lazy arc towards Okita's chest. If he could just get him to respond to the feint, he'd be in perfect position to strike the pressure point with the sheath.

In Okita's mind there were only two people in the hallway - him and Kenshin. Sano melded into the background, into the dark and the coppery smell of blood. He was no longer a threat and he wasn't about to get up again, so he could be ignored for now. Instead, Okita focused everything he had on this fight. He was physically stronger, but Kenshin was faster even when he had his knees caught by the Western pants. Okita had the advantage of wearing his old yukata, but that still didn't equalize the speed factor.

On one thing, however, they were even. They were both experts in their fields and they could both read the other. Okita saw the feint coming and dodged it instead of blocking it, pulling back and out of Kenshin's range. He switched his grip on the sword and tucked his arms in close to his sides before he took another stab at attacking. If Kenshin thought he'd be taken by such an easy blow, he had another thing coming. Running forward, Okita feigned to the right and then struck on the left at the arm holding the sheath.

Kenshin saw Okita's feint just as clearly as Okita had seen his. He dropped low to avoid the blade, but not low enough. It cut across his shoulder, laying it open. He hissed in pain, but didn't drop the sheath. Already, a change was starting to come over him. His eyes were sharper, colder. Just like with Saitou, each moment he fought brought him closer what he had once been.

He reacted to Okita's attack with one of his own, responding tit for tat. He was the faster one. He could get into Okita's space more easily than Okita could get into his.

Unlike Kenshin, Okita didn't care about using the blunt edge of his sword. The smell of blood and the feel of the blade resisting as it cut into flesh were all too familiar. He wished he'd dressed in his uniform now, if only for the nostalgia factor. He could almost imagine tatami beneath his feet and the dying screams of rebels who were too prideful to lay down their weapons echoing off the walls.

He really shouldn't have been thinking of that though. His attention should have been on Kenshin and before he knew it, the rurouni was in his face and Okita was forced to backpedal, trying to get out of his range again. He was still missing something though and as Okita caught a glimpse of Kenshin's eyes, he knew what it was. The Battousai was lurking, but it hadn't yet come out to play. Well, he might as well force it out.

Stopping midstep, Okita abruptly changed directions and brought his sword up to block, before attemping to ram his shoulder hard into Kenshin's injured one.

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