damned_institute | Dayshift 42: Bus 2

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Dayshift 42: Bus 2

Before anyone could come to any decisions for their next move, the room suddenly filled with a thick fog. Faster than he could realize what was happening, it had filled up the entire room and swallowed every single one of his friends. Then there was that undeniable stench of iron, blood and... he last remembered taking a step back and feeling that slippery skid and the realization of what that was. By the time he yelled, he was sitting straight up in his bed like he'd bolted awake. Like it'd been nothing more than a bad dream. ...What the hell just happened?!

"Oh! Good morning!" The nearby voice made him yelp with a half squeak-like noise. Oh, for hell's sake. It was one of those freaking nurses again. She was beaming at him like nothing had happened at all. Before he could so much as ask one question, the hag started blathering real fast about some field trip and buses and getting changed and hurrying up before everyone left without him and... OH MY GOD, WHAT WAS SHE DOING?! She was grabbing at his shirt like she was about to start helping him get dressed (or undressed in this case).

He flailed in a desperate attempt to get away from her and yelled his consent to go along if she would get out and let him change HIMSELF. What was the matter with her?! Thankfully, she left but told him to hurry. Hell if he knew what she'd do if he took too long. So for the sake of not getting freaking stripped, he quickly changed into the clothes she'd left on the bed. Clothes being the ugliest looking white-and-black track pants he'd ever seen and a bright blue sweatshirt with a cute little penguin design on the front. This was some kind of joke, right? ...Not to say the penguin wasn't cute or anything but there was no way, no way, he was wearing something like this in public.

But the nurse had burst right in again, and before Kanji could offer much protest, he was being pulled down the hallways and through the doors of the bus. He'd yelled some things her way, but she totally wasn't listening at all. By the time they stopped, he was standing at the front of the bus with a paper bag and the nurse had run off to cart another poor sap along. Frickin' PERFECT. For the sake of not standing up there like some kind of zoo animal for everyone to stare at, he plopped himself into one of the seats by the front and sighed in complete exasperation.

[Free. No limit.]

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All right, so it seemed everyone in this History Club was strange like that and actually wanted healers around. And not just when it was time to clean something, either. He glanced down at the slice of orange in his hand and began to nibble at it, deciding that maybe it was best not to argue.

Although Okita's ideas about the importance of healers was completely opposite of what he was used to...and it wasn't just him, either. There were other people who'd said things about healers being important, which, well. They couldn't all just be trying to humor him, could they? It was confusing.

Hanatarou's cheeks flushed a little pink when Okita giggled, his gaze dropping self-consciously. "L-last night, er. I fell asleep after healing, um, Nataku-san." And for some reason the fact that it wore him out so much had seemed to upset Nataku. The comments about mushrooms growing on his face made a lot more sense now.

Hanatarou seemed confused, almost like the concept that he would be important to someone was a new one. Perhaps where he came from people were not sick as often? Or was it just that he was one of those self-deprecating types? That could very well be it, considering how meek he seemed to be.

Right there the swordsman decided that boosting this boy's confidence was a priority. Even if that meant he'd be teasing the living daylights out of him for the rest of the time. In a nice way, of course. At least, as nice as Okita got. Transferring the orange slice to his right hand, he reached out and lightly poked Hanatarou in the cheek with his pinky. "Confidence now, Hanatarou-san."

He and his abilities were extremely important, even if he didn't think so. Homura had allowed him to heal Kenren and Nataku - two of the people closest to him in the Institute. Okita hadn't seen the boy's injuries, but since he was a god like Homura was, Okita could only guess at how severe the wounds might have been. This meek little man had a power in him that Homura needed; and it was now Okita's job to get it for him.

"And if you fell asleep, I do hope you're feeling better now. It's no good to wear yourself out, you know." Smiling, the samurai popped the rest of the orange slice in his mouth and then rubbed his fingers together, trying to get the stickiness off. "Your assistance is invaluable, Hanatarou-san. Despite being one of the most active groups around at the moment, we severely lack the necessary healing power to keep our ranks alive. I can't express my gratitude enough that you would take time out of your schedule and help us."

Hanatarou looked distinctly startled at that, both by the admonition and the prod, and only blinked at Okita for a moment afterwards. Why did people keep telling him that, anyway? He'd heard it before from other healers back at home occasionally, but here it seemed like everyone felt that way. It was kind of confusing.

He finished off the piece of orange that he'd been given and returned his attention to his slightly squished muffin, only then realizing that he'd been distracted enough to eat something without worrying about finding hair in his throat. And he hadn't. And...come to think of it, he hadn't seen any in a while now. Maybe it was safe...? Did curses wear off?

"N-no, I'm fine. It's just, um. Broken bones are harder to heal." Hanatarou finally tore his attention away from the muffin and blinked a little. "And I, um, I guess I pushed myself a little too hard. I'm fine now." And he actually was - what rest he managed to get before morning usually seemed to make him feel better.

The rest of that comment, though, made him start thinking again about things he'd been trying not to, and his eyes lowered again. "I...I was happy to help," he replied, hesitantly. "As much as I could, at least." It had been the first time in a while since he'd felt like he was actually being useful, instead of just dragged along with whoever was stuck with him for the night.

Healing broken bones was hard, meaning the strange power limitations that affected so many also extended to Hanatarou. If healing was enough to wear him out to the point of sleepiness, then his skills would need to be used sparingly and prudently. Homura would be the judge of that, of course, but Kenren and Okita might possibly need to act as a check and balance. For all that Homura wished to do and all that his followers would do for him, it would be worthless if they overtaxed any of their men - or the potential recruits.

Okita listened carefully to what Hanatarou said, but paid even more attention to what his body language said. He seemed a bit relieved about something for a moment and then confusion (which could just be his natural state), followed by... What was that? Uncertainty? Was Hanatarou wavering about something?

Pulling another orange slice from his bag, Okita offered it to the healer, smiling at him. "There is something on your mind, is there not? Would you like to talk about it? I promise to keep it a secret." As much as possible, that was.

"Oh...n-no, thank you." Hanatarou shook his head to the offered slice of orange; he did have his own, after all, and didn't need to steal someone else's breakfast. Now that he'd eaten something, though, it reminded him of how little he'd eaten at all for - well, a couple of days now, and he started picking off bits of the muffin to eat as he considered.

Could he really trust Okita? Not really to keep a secret, because that part didn't really worry him, but rather to...well, take him seriously. Or even to understand at all what he was talking about. His doubts might sound silly to anyone else, after all, and he didn't really want to go babbling about things and sounding like an idiot.

Although...Senna hadn't laughed at him, even if she clearly hadn't quite understood. So maybe. And the impression he was getting from Okita was - well, kind of the same as Kenren and Nataku the night before. Even if they'd barely met, and even though he didn't really know anything about the man, he kind of wanted to like Okita, for some reason.

He broke off another piece of muffin and eyed it for a moment before putting it in his mouth, then finally hesitantly began, "Well, it's just...I...I was glad Homura-san asked me to help. Because it was, er." Hanatarou hesitated a moment, glancing around briefly as though making certain nobody he knew was in earshot. "I thought it was more useful than...than what I'd been assigned to do."

Pulling the orange slice back, Okita started to pull the fruit from the rind again. While Okita had no place worrying over someone else's eating habits, he couldn't help it when it came to someone who looked so...small. He had an undeniable protective streak and it manifested absurdly strong around anyone who resembled a child in his eyes. Forget whether or not they were actually taller or shorter than him (Heiji being a good example), but if they were at all younger, he just couldn't help himself. Finally separating the fruit from its skin, Okita let the orange slice sit on the plastic bag it came in for a moment while he worked the others out.

His fingers stopped moving though when he noticed Hanatarou's silence. He was thinking hard on whether or not to trust Okita and for a moment, the samurai didn't want to move. It wasn't like his actions would cause the boy to think one way or the other, but blending into the background while Hanatarou made his decision seemed like a good idea.

And eventually, his silence paid off. Hanatarou hesitantly opened up and Okita went back to picking the oranges apart. Usefulness. He knew that well. If that was what Hanatarou was most worried about, then Okita could guarantee that he would be of use in the History Club. But would it seem... subversive of him? To steal another Club's members? The samurai smiled and neatly dismissed those thoughts. They needed a healer, and if he could pull one in, then so be it.

"We're equally glad you agreed to help," he said, setting a second section of orange onto the bag. "And...may I suggest something? While I understand your allegiance to your friends, we are, as I've said, without a permanent healer. And for a group so active, we tend to acrue..." He paused and motioned to his sling. "Well, I'm sure you can guess. Your current group has several healers, does it not? If you are willing, we'd be more than happy to have you with us - even on a temporary basis." Okita smiled again and finally raised his gaze to meet Hanatarou's eyes, watching for his reaction. "You would be most useful to us, and we would keep you from just wasting your nights away, waiting for people to come to you. A healer is most needed on the battleground, after all."

There was definitely concern clear to be read in Hanatarou's expression when Okita gestured toward the sling; he didn't like to see anyone hurt, no matter who they were. And that lay at the base of his problems, right there. As a member of the 4th Division he was utterly useless except in patching up the fighters who did the real work, but all he'd done lately was...well, gather some plants and some medical supplies. Even if he'd never had the chance to use any of them, because he never managed to find the people who really needed his help.

And it was true that the other shinigami (well, except one currently present) could heal in at least a limited fashion - there was always Kira, if no one else, since he used to be in the 4th. It wasn't as though they needed Hanatarou around. In fact, they might even be relieved in the end that they weren't burdened with his presence.

Whereas everyone he'd met so far from the History Club had been...welcoming. Even when he'd slipped and flailed and accidentally smacked Nataku in the face and everything, all he got was a sigh and a teasing remark instead of. Well, probably irritation and a glare and shinigami being annoyed that they had to deal with him.

He met Okita's gaze almost by accident and then felt it caught; he blinked a couple of times, then swallowed hard and nodded. "I...I want to go somewhere I can...can do some good," he replied quietly. "If your friends need it, I can...a-and if I'm not a bother..."

That was almost easier than he'd expected it to be. But then, he supposed that was how most people were able to pull members away from a group. If they felt at all dissatisfied with their work, or their place within the overall framework, then it was relatively quick to play upon their uncertainty and prey upon the 'grass is greener' mentality that plagued everyone.

Okita would have to remember that for later when it came to dealing with his own men. The Shinsengumi had a strict code against desertion, but that wouldn't always stop people. Even forcing new recruits to behead old deserters never seemed to stop people from trying to leave. That meant there was a problem at their core that they needed to work on. This was information to be kept in mind, especially here where there were no death sentences for leaving a group.

"You will never be a bother to us, Hanatarou-san. On the contrary," Okita said, relaxing his smile into something more natural. It was undeniable that Okita was the PR person for the History Club. This would be two - no, three people he'd been able to draw in over time. Now he just hoped he could keep Hanatarou in their group, as a permanent member. "I hope we do not bother you with how often we seem to get into trouble."

Now all that remained was reporting to Homura that he'd found him a healer. Perhaps once the bus ride was over, Okita would get a chance to drop by and tell him of their newest addition. "Are you free tonight? I'm sure we could find something for you to do, considering last night so many of us rested, we're all quite ready to head out again."

It was all well and good for Okita to say such things, but he might change his mind later on after he'd actually had to deal with Hanatarou. But that probably wasn't the best thing to bring up right now, given that he'd somehow managed to make a decent impression thus far. "Oh, no, it...I'd never, I mean, I'm happy to be able to help."

Even if there wasn't nearly as much that he could do here, it just didn't feel right not to use what ability he still had. He looked away again and pulled off another bite of his muffin, a little surprised by how fast it had gone. All right, so he'd been hungry, but he apparently hadn't realized quite how much.

"Tonight? I don't...see why not?" Hanatarou didn't really need to consider the question; he just shook his head. He didn't have any plans at all, not that he usually did. After a second he hesitantly gestured toward Okita's sling and asked, "Did, er, you need healing?"

He was so cute. It was like Tetsu when he was being a kicked puppy. You just couldn't help but laugh and want to tease him worse. Or maybe that was just Okita. And Nagakura. And -- well, all of the Trio. And, hmmm, everyone in the Shinsengumi. Maybe they just had a weird sense of humor. Probably because they'd been together for too long.

Okita's smile brightened when Hanatarou confirmed his new 'allegiance' and happily started back on his oranges. They were almost all pulled off the rinds now, meaning they'd be easier to eat with one hand. He lifted one to his mouth and was about to take a bite when Hanatarou mentioned he had no plans (something Okita needed to tell Homura immediately) and asked if he needed healing.

He did, but he'd asked Yuffie for that. And since he didn't know Hanatarou's healing method, he wasn't sure what to do. "Yes, eventually, I suppose. But wouldn't it tire you out?" He grinned and wagged the orange at the boy next to him teasingly. "You don't want to fall asleep when we're going on a trip, now do you?"

"Well, um, it depends on the injury. It seems like." Hanatarou blinked a little, then turned his attention back to the bag on his lap. He fished out the juice box and very carefully poked the straw into place, the tip of his tongue sticking out a little as he did, remembering Keman's instructions from the week before.

Once finished, he examined the box with a faintly triumphant air and took a sip of juice before continuing. "Back home it was a lot easier and I could do more, but here, it's. Well, harder. And the gigai they gave me is faulty and, and it seems to get damaged when I try to do things."

He glanced over at Okita with a hesitant smile and lifted one shoulder slightly. "Last night was the first time it made me so tired, though. A-and after I woke up I think I could have healed someone else, too, but. There were only two of them."

That seemed to hold with what MOMO had experienced. More severe injuries tired her out, while small things seemed to go over fairly quickly. Of course, when she had healed any of the club members, it was usually a serious injury. Okita was tempted to ask Hanatarou to heal him, but he thought better of it for now. If he was able to catch the healer later, then he'd ask. For now, things would have to wait. "Oh? And how do you do it anyway? I'm really fascinated by how people can heal without medicines and band...a..."

Okita trailed off as he watched Hanatarou pluck out the strange box and stick the plastic tube in it. Now that was fascinating. He'd never figured out what the boxes were for, usually having discarded them somewhere in town. But if they were for eating, that was an entirely different thing! He was so enthralled with this new discovery that he almost missed the conversation as it continued.

"Ah, what is a gigai? I'm afraid I don't know much about where you are from, so I apologize." Reaching into his own bag, he took out the box and turned it over in his hands until he found the plastic tube. It seemed to be encased in something and now this just looked complicated. As he wrestled with getting his box to resemble Hanatarou's box, he smiled to himself. "Then you're powerful indeed. Most people can't do much more than one or two a night, if that."

How did he do it? That kind of thing would be far easier to explain to another shinigami, and to an ordinary human as Okita seemed to be...well, it would be complicated. To say the least. And Hanatarou was certain that any explanation he gave would sound even more confusing than it needed to be. "It's, um, just kidou. Er." The healer paused a moment, absently chewing on his lower lip. "Using my spiritual energy to heal. Basically. But, ah, I can do the kind with the, the bandages, and, that too."

He watched Okita struggle with the juice box for a moment and wondered if he dared to offer some help with the thing. After all, he'd only just figured it out himself, and what if he caused another mishap like what had happened last week?

"Oh. Sorry, um. It's a, an artificial body. We use them when in the human world, since normal humans can't see shinigami or anything. But this one," he continued, absently gesturing toward his chest, "it's, well, not right. It shouldn't interfere with...things. But it does."

The suggestion that he was powerful startled him into silence again, though, and he blinked a couple of times before hesitantly holding out his own juice box to demonstrate, in an attempt to change the subject. "You have to take this straw here out of the wrapping, and, um. See, this is where it goes..." He certainly wasn't anywhere near powerful, that was for certain.

Hm, not exactly the response Okita had been hoping for, but then his question had been rather vague. He didn't want to go further into specifics, however, so he would have to ask Kenren about it later. Okita hated to think that he would need to explain to Kenren as he had to Homura about his aversion to touch healing, but since he didn't understand the mechanics of it all, he had to be careful. Not only did he not want more people to know, he didn't want the healers to know.

There was nothing they could do about someone with this sort of disease and the realization that they couldn't save everyone always weighed heavily on doctors. The profession was so difficult; Okita didn't envy them their work at all. He could live with the blood of dozens of men on his hands because death was the only skill he had. But for a man dedicated to saving lives? Even one man lost was like the weight of a thousand stones.

Okita froze for a moment when Hanatarou admitted he was a shinigami. The word was still enough to cause fear to run through him. As practical as he could be, he was still a man of his era and that meant meeting gods of death was something that was only supposed to happen once in a person's lifetime. "Ah...I see."

Get it together! You're being rude! Okita laughed a little and shook his head. "I'm sorry, you startled me. It isn't often that I run into shinigami, as you said. Although, I don't think it has to do with your body, so much as this place here. My friends also have powers that are strange to me, and they say being here has affected them."

But off that subject and onto something a little more pleasant. Okita watched as Hanatarou showed him how to open the box and then did as he was told. First he unwrapped the 'straw' and then he carefully poked it through the little shiny opening at the top. The straw dropped in rather quickly and then Okita looked at it, mimicking Hanatarou's earlier motions by sucking on the straw.

And he nearly choked when the juice jumped up into his mouth.

Coughing and tapping his chest, Okita paused for a moment to make sure the coughing wouldn't worsen and then grinned wide. "Amazing! So that's how these work! Thank you for explaining them to me!"

Hanatarou was somewhat taken aback by Okita's reaction; he hadn't thought anything of saying he was a shinigami, given that there were apparently quite a few here, and not just others from Soul Society. And it wasn't often that he dealt with ordinary humans, as Okita appeared to be (not that he was about to try to check, considering what happened every time he tried to look at someone's spirit thread).

"Oh. Er. Sorry, I didn't mean to, it's...ah." At least he hadn't started asking strange questions like Sam had the day before. Hanatarou still didn't quite know what he could have wanted, even if he did have strange ideas about shinigami. "Well. That could be it?"

He jumped a little when Okita coughed, peering at the man with a worried expression that slowly turned into a hesitant smile in response to his grin. "They're very different," he replied, sounding quite serious about it. "Someone showed me on the trip last week. You have to be careful not to squeeze the box too tight, though, because then the juice will get all over."

Okita didn't know what shinigami could tell, but he hoped the boy next to him couldn't feel the disease in him. But why would harbingers of death need a medic? Or was the afterlife just like the living world? Was it full of fighting and turbulence, too? That was sort of disappointing to think about, considering all that he'd been told about the resting spirits of the dead. It didn't seem restful at all if shinigami needed to keep staff on hand.

"There's no need to apologize," Okita replied, sipping the juice from the box slowly. He gave the healer a smile and tilted his head to the side, so he could see him a little better. "I like meeting all the different sorts of people here. It's very interesting."

He went back to drinking, but paused when Hanatarou suddenly seemed so serious. Apparently squeezing the box was a bad idea, which definitely meant that Hanatarou had done that exact thing last week. Okita was hard-pressed to hide his amusement at Hanatarou's warning, but he did his best, his smile just barely widening as he listened attentively. "Oh, I see. I'll be sure not to do that then, Hanatarou-san. Thank you for warning me."

Laughing quietly inside his head, Okita set the box down and started rifling through the rest of his sack breakfast. Okay, he couldn't help himself. He had to tease the boy a bit. "Was it very difficult to clean up when you did it?"

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Dayshift 42: Bus 2

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