Say Something

by KayanixAyaxFujimiya

WORK IN PROGRESS: A series of one-shots, written from Saitou's POV. SSL AU. Saitou is a young woman, whose husband (Souji) was drafted into the Japanese Army. Saitou gave birth to their only daughter, Kitsuki, born with CP, just days before receiving the news her husband had died in the war. This is her story in the years following the news of her husband's death.

1. One Tone

Author Notes: This is a series of one-shots written from Saitou's POV in the time that his husband is gone. Please note, in this story, Saitou is female but I have written his pronouns as male pronouns. This is simply because I'm used to writing Saitou as a male and have been far too lazy to actually go through and change all the pronouns from he to she. Some of these pieces will be short, and some will be long. Some will be emotional, others will not. I chose to write these because of the roleplay I have going on involving this storyline. I wanted to investigate Saitou's time without his husband without having to go through it in the roleplay too deeply. Parts of this will act as a diary for Saitou, others will be written from Hijikata or Sano's POV. But to keep things clear, I'll make sure to list who's POV is going on when I do change to view Saitou from a different place.

And, as always: This work is entirely fictional. I do not own Hakuouki or any of the characters. I only own Kitsuki, who was created for this storyline.

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Dark. Drab. Dreary. White walls lined with more white and pale gray. The sound of heart monitors and the occasional beep from a machine giving a patient more morphine. Tired feet carried him forward through the hall that seemed to stretch endlessly on. A nurse giggled from somewhere down the hall, flirting with one of the younger doctors. The same in and out of life in a mental ward.

Saitou hated it all. He hated the color, the smell, the sounds, the bland taste of the food, everything. He hated how hard the beds were, how the nurse laughed at the doctor's ridiculous joke. He hated everything about this place.

Yet he couldn't leave. He couldn't flee from the place that held him down. He couldn't break free of the restraints that held him down, that tortured his wrists whenever he tried to claw at his own face or pull his hair out. He couldn't fight the darkness that surrounded him and suffocated him when he screamed loud enough they decided to end his day and send him into night time early with a needle and a nice dose of sedatives.

He hated it all. It was one tone.