Day 38: Game Room

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

She’d never been in the Game Room before.

It didn’t look spectacularly interesting, she had to admit… but it’d be more fun than just hanging out in the Sun Room, right? Yuffie idly thumbed through a deck of cards, walking around the room to examine various bits and pieces. Board games, video games, chess… No really awesome prank material that she could see, but maybe she could rope somebody into a game of poker? That could be fun, but… ah, then again, most of the patients were just like her -- they didn’t have anything really cool that she could swindle out of them. Not until Nightshift, anyway.

Still! She’d keep it in mind. It wasn’t like there was anybody else in the room yet anyway, so any potential swindling would have to wait a little while. What could she do in the meantime, huh? Pick- pocketing a nurse could be fun..! Wait -- no, not when it was quiet like this. She’d have to wait until there was more cover, unless she got distracted. Yuffie hadn’t stolen anything in days, not since that time in Doyleton, with the Kaito kid…

Yuffie smirked. That had been fun.

Comments

[screwthegods]

Homura listened, his smile unchanging when Okita gave his reply. He didn't try to hold on when the hand was withdrawn, instead relaxing his fingers to allow Okita to pull away with greater ease. There was a tense moment after that, Homura considering his reply, and giving Okita a chance to walk away if he wished.

"I used to wonder if she'd think that of me." Homura turned his hand over, looking at the palm. "If she had any idea of what I've done. How many people I've killed. How much blood I've caused to fall. And all so I could stay alive." He laughed softly. "No, that isn't quite all of it."

"I wondered if I could still deserve her somehow. It's a stronger question now, because it hasn't been five-hundred years since I was innocent; before I became the sole being in the Heavens condemned to take life."

"But then I realized what thinking that way truly meant." Homura leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. "It was arrogant of me, and dishonorable to her. Her wish was for me to live, and I promised her I would. If it meant to kill more people than could be counted, then that was what I would do."

"Yet deciding I was unclean, and unworthy of love? That went against the principle I'd chosen to abide by. To allow others to choose what they truly wanted, and give them the freedom to persue those things." What makes me different from the other gods, Sanzo.. Homura closed his eyes for a moment, then chuckled.

"But listening to my opinion wasn't the point of this playdate, was it?" Homura held up his fist again, even though he half-expected Okita to leave. "If you'd like to continue."

[notachick.livejournal.com]

With his hand back in his position, he unconsciously rubbed the back of it with his thumb. People hadn't been willing to come so close to him for a long time, now that he thought of it. Tetsu perhaps. Hijikata. The children around the neighborhood who didn't know who he really was. But not many beyond that, and nearly all of them were children.

As he did so, he listened to Homura talk. "She" could only mean Rinrei, the woman he'd done so much for in the past and the one he would continue to strive for in the future. He listened, but he couldn't agree. Blood on one's hands was one thing if it belonged to another. That was a terrible enough crime, but one that people in his era overcame easily. The blood on Okita's hands was his own though, coming from diseased lungs that could kill anyone he grew too close to. His hands were unclean because he coughed at night and his coughing wouldn't kill just him.

Besides, there wasn't anyone to love him and there wasn't anyone he would love in return. With his end so imminent, it seemed futile and he had more important things to focus on. Okita didn't know when talk of his aversion to touch became talk about his supposed aversion to love, but he didn't deny or affirm a thing.

When Homura held up his fist again, Okita merely smiled at him and did the same. If Homura was willing to play, so was Okita. "It wasn't, but it seems I learned quite a bit despite that. Ready?"

[screwthegods]

"Ready." His words didn't seem to have made any difference, despite what Okita had said. Homura didn't press the issue, however. It had been nothing more than a guess that made him say anything of that sort at all. And, as he already pointed out, the objective of the game wasn't for the demi-god to preach.

This time Homura recited the chant along with Okita, falling back into the easy confidence he typically portrayed. When 'go' came, he again threw rock. It worked well enough before, and tossing it a second time would let him learn a bit about Okita's strategy behind his throws.

...Provided there was one, the demi-god reminded himself. Okita said he wasn't playing strictly to win, and Homura somehow couldn't just doubt that with this man. Of course, he couldn't just believe it either. It was a truth too long held to heart, he supposed.

[notachick.livejournal.com]

Even if Homura's words hadn't appeared to have an affect on Okita, there certainly had been one. In subtle ways, he was learning more about his leader and the more he knew, the more he could follow with confidence. Homura was strong-willed, but he wasn't without his doubts and his weak points. He was, however, able to overcome them and he was able to devote himself wholly to a person. In so many ways the demi-god resembled someone else Okita knew, meaning his opinion of the god grew considerably in a favorable direction.

And now he was even singing along with him. That certainly made things more fun and helped Okita take his mind off thoughts of why he couldn't allow himself to be touched. The blood, the smell of it, the taste that wasn't quite there, but almost... "--Scissors, go!"

Homura threw rock and Okita threw paper. The swordsman grinned and clapping his hands in childish delight. He loved this game, even without a reward at the end. It was simplistic and fun and it was a great way to decide who got the last dango on the stick. Or who would get stuck with cleaning duty at the dojo. "Ah! I won!" He laughed and then wagged a finger at Homura, teasingly. "You can't keep throwing rock like that. You have to vary your choices, you know."

But now for his 'reward,' which he could go any which way with. Did he ask for something serious or something fun? Or something dangerous? He could ask for why Homura liked to push him like this, but then the conversation would get so serious and that wasn't the point of a playdate. He could also ask for permission to kill Himura, but he doubted that would go over well. Sitting back, he tapped a finger to his lip and thought. He could ask for Guy's sword to be made next - that would be good. His roommate was still without a weapon and he'd been attacked by someone else here. He also didn't want him to think that Okita had forgotten. "I~ would like... Guy-san's sword to be made as soon as possible. I realize that Adel-san is busy, but my roommate has been patient and I don't like the idea of him moving about without a weapon."

[screwthegods]

Homura almost laughed at Okita's glee when he won. How long had it been since he'd seen something so utterly innocent? It was such a sharp contrast to the man he'd seen with a blade in his hands, slicing through his enemies with merciless determination. Perhaps that was part of why Homura liked Okita as much as he did. Though the man may not be able to see it in himself, Okita managed to preserve his purity in a way that Homura couldn't. That person who he'd been in the fields of flowers had been hidden beneath layers of arrogance and purpose, and also sorrow. Only in silent moments alone did Homura indulge his memories, and never for long.

He almost envied Okita in that way.

Yet the innocence only lasted so long, ending quickly when the swordsman made his request known. Homura let out a small sigh, though his grin didn't fade. Okita had to have known just how difficult weapons were to come by here, and how desperately there group needed them, especially now, when they could make progress.

Still, he had promised to have the sword made, and Homura wasn't one to go back on his word. "It can't be done immediately. Adelheid should be resting tonight." Though there had been a note left for the man on the bulletin that made Homura wonder, despite not having looked at the contents. "And it's important that the ones in our club that can lead groups be armed as quickly as possible. However, I'll see what I can do."

Zenon would say that Homura was getting soft, wouldn't he? Still, Homura couldn't quite help it. And not just because part of him didn't want Okita to be disappointed.

[notachick.livejournal.com]

The purity that Homura saw was what he wanted to see. It was a lie that Okita had perfected over years of practice, years of trial and error and careful observation. There was nothing pure about him. From that time when he defeated the samurai with a practice sword and took his katana to the present, not a single thing about him was pure or innocent. He was simply very good at imitation, so good that even he sometimes forgot, or at least, pretended to forget.

Leaning back in his seat, he tipped his head back so he could look at the ceiling. Of course he knew it couldn't be immediate. He'd seen the note about Adel's health, but he'd also seen that little note left to him asking for a weapon. It seemed that their Weaver was branching out to make his own endeavors without bothering to tell the rest of them. All of the clubs were in a weak position at the moment. That Mello boy was working to undermine them. That "anonymous" on the bulletin as well, drumming up her pointless aggravations. Roy Mustang and Hitsugaya Toshirou were dead or missing. Club members were disappearing left and right, people were separating and moving further and further apart.

It made Okita long for the familiarity and the solidarity of Mibu again. He wanted people at his back that he had trained and people at his side that he had grown up with. He wanted to walk in the shadow of the ones who had raised him and feel the power in their words again. But he didn't have the Shinsengumi here, even if Ayumu was at his side. He had the History Club and he had to ensure that they would stay together no matter what. For his sake and for Homura's sake.

Smiling when Homura agreed in his own way Okita's request, he dropped his head back down and clapped his hands together. Making sure to reward the war god with a big grin, he nodded his head once in childlike glee. "Thank you, Homura-san~! Guy-san will be so pleased to hear this!" Of course, it wasn't just Guy, but also Okita. He hadn't expected Homura to agree so easily, but he couldn't deny the happiness he felt. It was like getting candy from Hijikata, in a way.

The intercom jingled and Okita looked up at the speaker as the Doctor started his usual speech. Pouting as the nurses started to move in, he looked to Homura and wagged a finger at him. "Now don't you forget, hm? And...I'm bringing someone to meet you later, but it has to be just the three of us. I'm sure you know who and why, so let's just leave it at that, hm? It's important to me."

Getting up as his nurse came over to collect him, he waved to the demi-god and gave him another smile. "I'll see you tonight, Homura-san."