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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[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?"