Day 48: Courtyard

[thatdamnedninja]

"I could tell you some stories," Yuffie suggested brightly, "of unquestionable legality." Illegality, that was. Petty little things like the law didn't usually mean very much to her, except for the times when she had to uphold it. Always fun for the breaking, though, the law, and messy for the clean-up. Just the way she liked it

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[notachick]

Unlike the other day, Okita didn't argue with his nurse when she bundled him up in the extra clothes. He felt particularly off today for some reason, having slept in during the morning, taking his meal in his room instead and only being able to eat a small portion of it. It felt as if he had a fever, but the nurse had given him some strange little device to put under his arm and told him his temperature wasn't any higher than normal. Maybe a degree and some change off, but nothing to worry about. He wasn't so sure, but then he wasn't about to disagree with her if she was giving him a bill of health.

Going outside, he tightened the coat around himself as he moved across the grass. He could see Yuffie already out here, jogging around the edges as she sang a song he couldn't hear the words to. Rather than speak to her and interrupt, however, he headed to the opposite end and sat down on one of the north-end benches, facing the wall. The pond was at his back and from here he could stare out over the wall, at the gray sky, and wonder what else was out there. He could wonder if Hijikata was looking up at this sky, too, grumbling about how the weather was a bad sign. And wonder if the man Hijikata had become would do that sort of thing.

Leaning back on one hand, he turned his face away, closing his eyes as he pressed the back of his hand against his lips. The coughs were lighter today, but there were more of them. He'd woken up coughing, too. And now that he was outside, it seemed the cold air was affecting him even more. Sitting up, Okita turned so that no one would be able to see him and covered his mouth completely, furrowing his brow as the coughing slowly came to a stop. It wasn't as bad as it had been before the Ikedaya raid, but he could feel it getting closer by the day. "...how much longer I wonder," he murmured, sighing slightly as he sat back again, staring up at the sky.

[For Homura]

[screwthegods]

Homura walked away from his meeting with Lelouch satisfied enough for what had transpired, and quickly donned the extra clothing they now were requiring the patients to wear. Though the logic was reasonable enough, with the foreboding color of the sky and the undeniable chill, Homura still childishly wanted to refuse on principle. The idea made him grin as he moved into the Courtyard, and he wondered if he truly had grown that desperate for something resembling freedom. When he considered the delays and the drawbacks of recent nights, the thought didn't seem so outrageous.

But all that remained was to move forward. He told himself this, as he had before, because he knew what fate awaited those that gave in. Even the strongest among them could be claimed by the lies, and it was a pretty fantasy. Would Rinrei be outside on a day like this, fighting the cold? Homura didn't know, for the simple reason that Heaven only had a single season. Eternal paradise didn't tolerate cold in the same way the mortal world accepted it, adapted to it and still progressed. Yet another reason to much prefer humans over gods, with occasional exceptions.

Now, however, Homura's attention wasn't caught by any of his kin, but instead by the man he'd consider one of his closest friends. His wandering had taken him close to the bench, but even he might have missed Okita's presence, except for the sound. For horrible moments that lasted too long, Homura watched from a distance as Okita coughed. Was it the disease their hell had infected him with? Of course; Homura would be foolish to think it had been anything else. The disease that had claimed Okita's life, or so Himura claimed in the future. Homura knew the dread of dwindling time, and that fueled his own determination, if only to somehow let his friend accomplish something of meaning before--then.

When the coughing finally ended, Homura slipped off his coat and headed toward the bench. Okita would sense his presence, and more, when Homura drew close. But neither the chill nor the heaviness in the air mattered so much as simply dropping the jacket around Okita's shoulders, for whatever warmth it might provide. He wouldn't listen to any protests, which was why he didn't speak of his action as he claimed the open space next to his friend. They had much more to discuss, that they rather would discuss than that.

"I know what the room upstairs is for." Of all the things he'd bring up, what he'd finally understood when he saw Hanatarou's collected items seemed the most pressing on Homura's mind, if only because there could be so many potential answers to be found. He looked down at the ground in front of him, in the opposite direction of Okita, as if it could banish away the unpleasant memories that had led to this truth. "That room is one of the ones they use to brainwash the patients on Special Counseling nights. That's why we find weapons there, and so many nurses. And the fluid--they have bags of the same fluid I used when I lost my will to them."

[notachick]

He wished there was sunlight or something to cheer up his day, but there was nothing and he found himself staring aimlessly at the gray curtain above and imagining the sky that lay behind it. He didn't have long to indulge in his little dream though because he felt someone approaching him with purpose. Unlike the usual times when people just came close and passed by, this felt like he was being aimed at. It didn't take long before Okita realized who it was, and no more than a few moments later that something heavy and warm dropped around his shoulders without a word.

Tilting his head to the side, Okita realized that this was Homura's jacket and he smiled at his friend. Small things that said he worried, which Okita wished he didn't. If Himura hadn't told people, they could be continuing on like normal. They could be enjoying their time together instead of this: a weight like no other bearing down upon every conversation. Okita hated that. If it hadn't been for Himura telling everyone, then Homura would never feel like he had to give Okita a jacket when he already had one. People wouldn't be looking at him like--

"Do you?" he asked, as if nothing were wrong. Okita shrugged off the jacket and sat up, wrapping it back around Homura's shoulders as he continued to speak. "That would certainly be a reason why. It appears to be our only source of weaponry now anyway - with Adel-kun gone and the new alchemist only accepting five orders at a time; and most of those going to friends, that room may be our only choice for awhile. I was able to give Taura-san her prize, but the other is with me still. I met with her and Hayashi Yomi but we were unable to progress further due to two of those brainwashed patients guarding the way."

With his report done, Okita tugged the jacket down on Homura's shoulders and grinned. "I don't need two of these, Homura-san. I'll only get too warm and try to take them all off."

[screwthegods]

Okita was better at hiding things than Homura, and the quality both fascinated and frustrated the demi-god. Though the line they balanced on remained painfully thin, that part of Homura that cared about his friend wished they would simply fall from it. Death was unavoidable; men who lived by battle learned this lesson quickly, and held it as a higher truth than all others. Yet this death came slowly, with only a promise of being sooner than it should be, and far more cruel. Okita had already expressed that he'd continue to live after he could no longer fight, and that the idea utterly terrified him. Homura felt that same fear for him, and wanted to somehow ease the burden. He knew talking about it wouldn't change the truth, so he had respected Okita's wish for silence. But still--

Still.

"That's fine. We can make arrangements for Nataku to pick it up tonight." Homura had said nothing throughout the report, instead listening, and watching as Okita moved. He smiled despite knowing what Homura's gesture had meant, and in turn, rejected it as unnecessary. He knew how much Okita had hated the offering, the significance of it. But Homura too hated the helplessness, the inability he felt to save his friend or even offer comfort. It was a testament to Okita's strength that he could keep on fighting, but even that amounted to little in terms of compensation.

Getting to the basement obviously would be difficult. The teams would have to be assembled faster, and the enemies accounted for. "I was obviously delayed. Next time, however, things will go differently." They would have to find some way to deal with the obstacles presented by opponents. "Given the nature of the brainwashing, we might have to take advantage of other groups trying to reach the same goal." Hardly a method Homura preferred, but with their own diminished strength, they would have to do what was necessary in order to succeed.

He rolled his head back when Okita gave his reassurance, offering a grin of his own in return. "You will tell me if that changes." Not so harsh to be an order, yet clearly not a question either; Homura would simply let Okita take his words as he would. He suspected that the other man had no intention of telling him anyway. "I don't mind the cold, you realize. It's not at all like the Heavens."

[notachick]

"You don't like that idea, do you," Okita said as less of a question so much as an observation. Homura tended to hate using decoys and deceptions, and was surprisingly straightforward and honest for a god. To use another group's misfortune seemed to sit uneasily with him and while Okita was certain others might agree, he himself was far too accustomed to using such tactics that he no longer saw any real problems with them. Assassinations and close quarter combat against rebel forces rarely allowed for honorable one-on-one battle as his ancestors had seen.

"I was also wondering..." He hated bringing up this subject now of all times, but it was a necessary conversation to have. With Adel gone and their flow of weaponry all but reduced to a trickle, it made Okita's request all that much harder to make, but he had promised and even Guy was beginning to wonder. It pained Okita to think about how they'd come to this. Back when they had a weaponsmith, it seemed everyone had been joining. But then those who had earned their weapons had left once the swords had been gained, making Okita rather nostalgic for the old Code. No one would dare use them for weapons only then - not when the penalty was their own hide.

Pulling his jacket a little closer, Okita toed the ground and continued what he'd been saying earlier. "Guy-san has been waiting a good amount of time for that weapon I promised him. The one he has now is borrowed and will soon be returned - and he understands the sacrifice we make by possibly giving him one, but..."

He felt like he was asking for extra money from the coffers to buy something unnecessary as Hijikata would say, and Okita dropped his gaze to the ground uneasily. While arming Nataku was obviously the priority, Okita couldn't help but ask. Guy had been patient for so long and if push came to shove, Okita would find a weapon himself and gift it to Guy.

"Do you think it's still possible? To give him a sword, I mean. It is my promise, so if I must, I will work for it to lessen the burden on the group."

He let the request hang in the air for a moment before he addressed Homura's implied order. It was strange to hear him say such a thing with a smile on his face, but something in Okita appreciated that. The smile made it easier to joke and pretend he wasn't feeling as terrible as he was; that the heaviness in his chest was merely the product of the weather and not something else. "Such a mother hen, Homura-san. Do you want to check my temperature every morning, too?" he teased, laughing slightly. "I might have to do that with you, you know. The Heavens weren't cold so your body won't be as adjusted to the weather and, while you might not notice it right away, you should be careful of you'll be the one with a cold - not me."

[screwthegods]

"No. But it won't be the first time I've used methods I don't prefer." Homura had long learned that such a price often had to be paid in order to achieve his goals. Many gods took such methods to their limit, to such a point that they became cowards unable to fight with their own strength. But so long as Homura ultimately claimed victory with his own hands, then the path could be less than perfect along the way. He wasn't so foolish as to sacrifice everything needlessly.

The reminder that came next had been unexpected, and Homura wasn't entirely pleased to hear it. Still, he understood the importance of Okita's word, and also his own. Homura too had made a promise, after all, even in the guise of a game. "So long as we have access to the room, it should be possible. Teresa is our newest member, and I trust her enough to bring her on raids of that place. Next time, if we find a sword, it will be his."

Homura laughed softly then, when Okita warned him that colds could affect the demi-god just as easily. He didn't doubt the man was right--in his present state, Homura did fall much closer to being a human. Yet as much as they both wished it otherwise, what weighed heavily in Okita's chest wasn't anything so simple, or harmless. "And what if I did? You'd be the best one to nurse me back to health, you realize. Kenren and Nataku wouldn't have any more experience with colds than I." Homura considered the idea, then shifted his weight so he leaned closer to Okita. "It'd be tempting, if I could have your attention only on me. Even for a short while."

[notachick]

That was a line he'd heard before, or at least, the message was familiar. Okita remembered it very clearly, said in different terms and in a quiet way, the subtle shifting of someone's weight, the gradual (in one case, violent in another) change in behaviors that marked a distaste in one's actions that hung like the dead around one's neck. And while Okita didn't say anything in response for now, he looked at Homura with understanding veiled in his eyes and then turned his attention back to the scenery. This was the weight of responsibility, the difficulty of having no one to hold the leash or curb the more extreme actions a group could take. People often thought Okita had a hand in pushing group politics, but the truth of the matter was that he, like so many others, was a mere pawn in the game. Unlike others, his will was not strong enough, his rank not high enough, to push events in the way he wanted. Besides, Okita himself had little problem with killing and with the sometimes unscrupulous means his group used in order to attain their goals.

So rather than comment on that, he waited until Homura gave his decision on the sword matter and nodded. That would be that then. The next time, if they found a sword, it would go to Guy. Okita bowed his head, closing his eyes. "Thank you, Homura-san. I will pay the group back as soon as I can."

How he would do that, he did not know, but that mattered little. What mattered was that he somehow repaid the debt he had unintentionally incurred.

Thankfully, Homura kept the mood light as he teased that Okita would have to play nursemaid. Of all people to take care of someone? Okita was not the best choice. He would have thought Ayumu or even Hanatarou more suited to that job and so the swordsman laughed, ready to banter back that asking a killer to keep someone healthy was probably not the best idea. But the very idea of joking died the moment Homura leaned in and started tentatively poking at a subject Okita was not comfortable with. Quickly switching gears, the captain refrained from pulling away and instead tilted his head slightly back, giving Homura a sideways glance - at once cautious and guarded, but also playful and bemused. "Oh, is that so? And what if I made a terrible doctor?"