Day 40: Lunch

[whiny-egomaniac.livejournal.com]

*hobble wobble*

"Damn that SCOURGE!" Starscream cried out, the slowly-filling cafeteria producing a jarring echo of his raspy voice. His limping, already bad enough from not knowing how to properly use his crutches, was now exacerbated from the injuries he'd received the shift prior. Despite the gauges in his non-casted leg so lovingly provided by the aforementioned 'patient', Starscream could still put some weight on it, but not so much that he could really stop and rest; relieving the soreness under his arms was out of the question. The nurse that walked behind him with his tray, already upset at having to deal with yet another troublesome inmate, was growing rather impatient as his charge slowly made his way down the food line.

"Just...give me a standard serving of the aquatic creature's flesh, some of those fried potato slices, two bananas, and three bottles of juice," Starscream sighed, his anger from just a moment ago assuaged by the physical exertion needed to move the way he did. "I'm going to sit down here...bring it to me when you're done."

He was hardly surprised to find that one of the bananas was completely bruised along its inner curve, or that the handful of 'chips' on his plate were all on the small side. Tired and frustrated as he was, however, he could barely muster a 'damned flesh-creature' before moving his fingers to the plate, picking one of the longer 'chips' and shoving it into his mouth listlessly.

There was an unusually high concentration of sodium chloride crystals on it. Of COURSE.

[For Tony Stark]

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[notachick.livejournal.com]

"Only if you have enough of these fried potatoes to make it there," he confessed, pulling more of his own from his plate and carefully arranging them so the pyramid grew taller. He pondered his handwork for awhile and picked up another of his french fries and set to work with his fork. Carefully dividing one end of the fry into three parts, the swordsman made a little person with his arms reaching to the sky. Crude, but it worked. Then he scooped up some of his unused tartar sauce into his spoon and placed it on Homura's tray. Using the tartar sauce as a base, he stuck the little fry person into the spoon and sat back, grinning wide. "He's so excited to have a new home~"

And with that, Okita thought he was finished with his little building. He'd listened carefully to what Homura had said while he was working, but he still didn't know exactly what to say - which was why he'd made a potato person instead. Hijikata didn't seem to want to join, which meant it would be difficult to approach him. Perhaps he should just be straightforward and ask to meet with the man, but after the bulletin mishap, he wasn't so sure that would go over well. And so, he'd have to leave that topic untouched for now. Broaching it when he wasn't ready would just tear open wounds that had so recently healed anyway. Seeing Hijikata bite on his pen had been hard enough, but talking about him now when the prospects of him joining were slim was worse.

"Your predecessor?" Okita would have assumed that such a person would have been dead before a new war prince was named. Then again, death had never seemed to stop this place before. If Homura was mentioning him, it was because this boy was someone Okita would need to take note of later. Although, since Homura didn't point him out, that meant he wasn't yet available to be seen. Another heretical being from Homura's world - hopefully someone they could work with. No, someone they would need to work with. Two war princes on one team would be formidable. "Will he be joining us then?"

[screwthegods]

"Somehow, I doubt it." Especially not when Okita began cutting up one of the french fries that remained. Homura didn't understand what the purpose was at first, not even realizing that it was supposed to be a person until Okita gave it an emotion. Then all the demi-god could do at first was stare at the tiny figure in silence. Those were arms then? And the center was a head, he supposed. Oh, and one of the men Homura trusted as a second in command could very well be considered insane. If he didn't know better, he might have asked Okita if he'd managed to find some alcohol. Kenren would certainly be pleased.

Yet even Homura couldn't resist the childish joy on Okita's face when he leaned back, and the man laughed quietly. "And to be spared from being eaten, I'd imagine."

The silence when it came to Hijikata was telling, but Homura wasn't going to fill the gap for Okita. Part of it was a selfish desire not to have the man go running off towards an alternate version of the commander he'd devoted himself to in place of Homura. But Homura also hoped Okita would be upfront with his desires; he wouldn't refuse Okita that opportunity, if he asked for it.

"Yes. He died before they assigned the title to me--by his own hand." Nataku's suicide had been something Homura was able to learn in detail from Shien, and the demi-god knew well how it had effected the other man. "He hasn't decided what he'll do just yet. Obviously I hope that he'll choose to go with us, but I won't force him to." Something that Homura never did, but it held especially true in Nataku's case. He wouldn't even make the boy do it in exchange for the weapon he'd requested from Adelheid, an allowance he'd never even consider making for another person.

"He's very different from me. Nataku wasn't the Toushin Taishi for long before he chose to end his life. And he hasn't yet had the opportunity to truly choose his own path. Kenren and I both feel rather protective towards him, because of that." Homura looked at the little fry man again, then chuckled as he reached out to touch its head...carefully though. He had a feeling Okita would pout if he knocked it over. "I think he'll enjoy meeting you, should the chance arise."

[notachick.livejournal.com]

"Oh, yeah, and that. But he wasn't in any danger of that, unless you were going to eat him. Then he'd be very sad." Even though Homura was letting the topic of Hijikata drop for now, Okita needed the continued levity. Hijikata Toshirou was going to be a problem for him. He wasn't the same person Okita had sworn to follow along with Kondou, but he was still the Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi and that warranted attention. What kind of attention was the issue, however. Did he casually keep an eye on him while sticking to his duties under Homura's command? Or did he follow Hijikata's word as if he were the real Vice Commander? Or...?

Without realizing it, Okita had fallen behind in the conversation. Nataku - the former Toushin Taishi - had chosen death rather than to complete his mission. To die in battle or at one's own hands were the only honorable ways to go, and it fit a man of war well. Or a boy of war. Kenren and Homura would be watching over this boy-prince apparently - something which caught Okita's interest. The gods were particularly protective of their own. He'd seen it when Kenren hovered over Homura following his torture and he was likely going to see it twofold now that this Nataku had appeared. It was a chance to see a different side of his commander - a gentler side, perhaps. Rather than push Nataku's buttons as Homura did with most people, he was going to try a different tactic.

"Do you wish for me to speak to him about the club then? Or merely meet with him and get my opinion?" Okita tilted his head as he watched Homura tap the little fry man. Then he set about making friends out of the remainder of his food. The fish was all but gone now and he didn't feel like eating anything else. Talk of Hijikata had robbed him of his appetite. "Or just play with him? I like the last option best - just letting you know."

[screwthegods]

And he'd perhaps cry little potato tears in his sorrow. Homura didn't say the thought aloud, but he did grin a bit wider in response to the words left unsaid. Yet at the same time he looked over the man he considered a friend carefully, wondering just what was going on in his mind. It was difficult to read through Okita's cheerful mask sometimes, as it was one that came naturally, and concealed thoroughly.

But even that being the case, Okita's continued silence on the matter of Hijikata was telling enough. It was possible that the man hadn't made of his mind yet, about what do to with this strange new version. Homura closed his eyes, and let out a quiet sigh. He remembered those days when Shien was like this as well--questioning the purpose of his life under an almost unbreakable mask.

"Whatever choice you make, Okita, I will respect it." Homura reached into his pocket then, and took out the key he'd had Adel make specifically for the swordsman. He set it down on the table next to Okita's tray, leaving no question as to who it now belonged to. "But you are the only one who can make that choice." And it would hardly be the first time that Homura couldn't be a person's sun.

Right, Son Goku?

Okita laid out the various options for his conversation with Nataku, but Homura shook his head to all but the last. "He has to decide for himself what he's going to do with his life, now that the gods who ruled over him are gone. I lived long enough to find my purpose. Nataku has yet to discover his." It was as sobering a thought as it was a hopeful one. If only this opportunity had been afforded to the boy in some place beside this prison. Yet that hadn't been the case, and there was no point in regretting it. "He'd likely be more receptive to your games than even I've been. But if it's possible, I'd like for you to not hide who you are from him either. Toushin Taishi isn't a title that can be completely erased once it's bestowed."

[notachick.livejournal.com]

It took a little bit of work, but finally a second potato man joined the first. The shapeless arms still reached for the sky and Okita tapped him and his friend gently on the heads. If only all of life could be as easy as making friends out of vegetables. It wasn't though, and when Homura sighed and laid the key down next to Okita's tray, he knew his silence had not been the right choice. Quietly, he slipped the key off the table and hid it in his pocket. The key was a sign of trust, but it was also an insurance policy. Should anything ever happen to Homura, their efforts would not be in vain.

Okita rubbed the grease off his fingers on the napkin again and smiled at the demi-god. He had made his choice when he had been dragged away from Michael Sugiyama with a needle stuck in his neck. Even if he wavered on it, he would never go back on his word as a samurai. Homura was his leader and even if he had to divide his attention between him and Hijikata Toshirou, he would inevitably follow Homura. Or so he hoped. There seemed to be little welcome for Okita at Hijikata's doorstep so far, making the choice easy for now. He'd deal with the consequences later. "You act as if I hadn't already made it. And you should eat something, or it won't just be me who gets a scolding over their appetite."

Picking up a french fry, Okita tried it and decided yet again that today was not the day for greasy potatoes. Finishing what he had in his mouth, the swordsman sat back and pushed his tray back a bit, indicating he was finished.

"I don't hide my identity because I like to, Homura-san. As long as Nataku-san isn't adverse to playing with something like me, then I'd be more than happy to be honest with him." Which he could never do at home. Children fled from him if they learned he was the demon killer of the Shinsengumi. The reputation he'd gained when Serizawa was still alive, along with the continued infamy of the Mibu corps had done little to assuage that fear either. He was lucky enough to be able to take care of a friend's children, but he had to be quiet about who he was to the neighborhood. They liked to play war games and if they knew that he was one of the wolves they'd been cutting down... "Point me out to him when you meet, hm? I'd be more than happy to play games with him if he'd like - titles mean little to me when it comes to games."

[screwthegods]

"Because I don't know if you have." Homura watched as Okita took the key from the table, glad he didn't try to refuse it at the very least. Even if he decided to abandon Homura and the History Club, Okita's Hijikata had been part of the original group that had earned that key. That alone gave Okita a right to it, though that wasn't Homura's reason. He simply trusted the man enough to give him something so valuable. "You haven't spoken to him since his introduction on the bulletin." An observation that didn't need to be said, but one Homura vocalize anyway. There was only so long they could dance around the truth in silence, with little fry-men to serve as distractions.

He chuckled at the chiding, despite the somber mood that had taken over their discussion. To appease Okita, who was the most likely to do the lecturing, Homura began to eat his own portion of fish. He wasn't so cruel as to deprive the swordsman's new clan of their home, after all.

"Nataku knows what it means to be someone who kills." That was the single purpose of the Toushin Taishi in the eyes of Heaven: to prove their loyalty by slaying those who would defy the will of the gods. Homura could remember the realizations that slowly settled into his mind after his own first kill. One by one, emotions and thoughts fell into place, each as capable of crushing him as they were of becoming his foundation. Nataku hadn't been the Toushin Taishi for long, but he had been one for long enough to build the shelter that would keep him safe from the burden he had been forced to endure. Or so Homura believed, and hoped. "That is why I want you to tell him. I want him to see that there is more available to him now, even if he must continue to fight and to kill."

He nodded at the man's request to be singled out, but the boy's arrival in the room also gave Homura a chance to let Okita see Nataku first, even from a distance. "That's him." Homura motioned to the child, speaking to a very tall man Homura hadn't previously met. "With a pair of golden eyes."

[notachick.livejournal.com]

"I wouldn't be here talking to you if I hadn't," Okita pointed out, folding his paper napkin into a square. He'd run out of food he wanted to eat and the things he had eaten were sitting heavily in his stomach. He wondered briefly if he'd eaten too much and then shrugged to himself, starting to make the napkin into a little paper iris. It would be nowhere near as colorful as the ones Homura liked, but maybe it would help solidify his loyalty to the war prince. "And no, I haven't. He hasn't tried to speak with me, either. I wanted to hear from you first before I tried to speak with him."

Which was a lie, but it was a good lie. Okita didn't know if he wanted to talk to a man who had so publicly told him to die. Even if the message hadn't been directed at him exactly, he had no guarantee about the sort of relationship his counterpart had with Hijikata Toshirou. Okita Souji didn't go walking into what could be his death just because a familiar name called him there. Homura was eating now, at least, and Okita had finished his flower. Reaching out, he laid it on Homura's tray and then looked to where the man was pointing.

Such a small boy... To think that he was a killer, too, was a sad thing indeed. Okita remembered taking his first life. The smell of that night and the feel of the blood on his hands still haunted him in his dreams. As did the man's face - that twisted, horrid vision of himself. Okita wasn't sure if he was the best example to show Nataku that there was more to life than death and killing, but he'd do as told. He'd play with the boy and make him smile and listen to him when he needed it - and then watch for his decision. Giving Nataku a friend within the History Club was coercion enough to bring him over to their side, perhaps, but as Homura wished, Okita would never actively try to recruit him.

"So you're sending me to show him there is more to life than death?" Okita laughed, the sound surprisingly light despite his words. "You certainly have a strange sense of humor, Homura-san. But I'll do as you ask. I'll show him how to play hide and seek. Maybe you'll join us?"