Uh, just a warning: I don't own Okita. I wish I did, but I don't. The
same goes for Saitoh and any other Rurouni Kenshin stuff that's in here.
And I haven't seen the whole series, either, so I wouldn't know if it goes
into any detail about what happens to Okita, so sue me. This is just an
idea I had in my head for.forever.
Ja ne and enjoy.
Kino-boi
A man walked along the dusty road that led to Kyoto, his head bowed in thought. A sword rested at his side despite the laws that forbid the carrying of such a weapon; his hand brushed across the hilt as though to assure himself it was there. He was fairly young, though not a boy, around twenty-four or twenty-five, dressed in the usual style of the Meiji era, his haori a dark, green color. His hair, a dark color, was tied back carefully, leaving a fringe of bangs over his face. With the slightest sigh he stopped, turning his gaze to the clear skies above, his eyes a warm, gentle brown.
It had been many years since he had been to Kyoto, the city of his earlier years.
The years when he had been at the height of his strengths. For Okita, Kyoto held many memories. He lowered his gaze to the city, his eyes widening slightly. He had expected change, but the Kyoto he now saw looked nothing like the Kyoto of his Kyoto Shishodai days. Okita's eyes filled with sadness momentarily before he continued steadily forward.
Kyoto. The center of the Meiji government, the one thing the Shinsengumi had tried so hard to prevent. Then the Shinsengumi had been disbanded and the members either executed, committed seppuku, joined the Meiji or, in the case of Okita, simply disappeared altogether.
And Master Saitoh.No one had heard anything from him since Okita had left. Rumor had it that he had joined up with the Imperialists soon after the Ikeda Ya battle, possibly even before that time.
Into Kyoto. It was alive and festive with people walking through the streets and children playing, running this way and that. Okita wandered through familiar streets, looking around, slightly in awe. It was changed, larger and more crowded.
Of course. Years ago, when Okita had been a boy of the Shinsengumi, Kyoto had been burnt to the ground during a fight between Imperialists and the Shinsengumi.
Okita coughed, choking up a bit of blood into his hand. He hastily wiped it away with a weary sigh and continued on, looking for a tavern or some other place to buy a drink.
"Where are you going, boy?" a familiar voice asked. Okita's eyes widened. As if in slow motion he turned around to see Saitoh standing in the street, wearing a policeman's uniform with a lit cigarette in his mouth, looking older and meaner but still like Saitoh. Okita stopped himself from exclaiming in delight, ducking his head down instead.
"I was going to the tavern," he answered, wondering if Saitoh recognized him or if he did, if he cared. Saitoh had always seemed to be looking after him as a boy, always stopping him before he could push himself past his limits, but it had seemed to be little more than a master/pupil relationship. "Could you show me the way? It's been years since I was last here in Kyoto, and it's all changed so much," Okita stated with a laugh, hoping Saitoh recognized him. Saitoh had always liked his laugh, even though he would never show it.
"Of course," Saitoh replied. "Follow me." He walked past Okita with long strides, heading down the street. Okita hurried after him, falling into step alongside him.
"It's amazing how much Kyoto has changed since I left. It's like it's a whole different city," he mused, trying to start a conversation.
"It basically is now," Saitoh stated shortly.
"Yes, of course, but I had hoped that it wouldn't have changed so much. I feel like a total stranger here now." Okita sighed with another laugh. Saitoh stopped in front of the tavern.
"Here we are, boy." Without another word he turned and left Okita. Okita smiled slightly, sadly.
He had returned home for nothing. The one person he had been searching for didn't recognize him anymore. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he turned and went inside without another backwards glance.
Saitoh made his way through the streets, his mind whirling with questions and memories.
Who was that boy? Was he really Okita? If he was, why was he back in Kyoto after so long? What was he looking for? There was nothing left in Kyoto for him unless.
Saitoh froze, his eyes widening at the thought.
Had Okita returned for him? Quickly he whirled around and returned the way he had come, forcing his way through people and eliciting cries of displeasure as he shoved them aside. He slipped into the tavern, standing in the doorway and looking around.
"Excuse me, there was a boy in here a bit ago, dark hair, fringe of bangs, brown eyes?" he stopped a serving girl, looking around the tavern at the same time. The girl shook her head.
"He left a few moments ago after getting a drink," she answered. Saitoh swiftly left the tavern, looking around for any signs of the boy.
Where had Okita gone? As if the answer had just occurred to him, Saitoh turned and began making his way to the waterfront.
Okita walked wearily along the waterfront, one hand trailing along the wooden railing on his left side. His vision was unclear, barely able to focus on his surroundings, a result of the sake, he told himself. He had drunk too much probably.
Normally, if he ever drank too much, Master Saitoh would have been there to tease him lightly and carry him home. But now.He was alone. Okita stopped walked, sagging against the railing as a fit of coughing overtook him. Slowly he sank to his knees, blood dripping to the wood planks of the walkway.
Footsteps, quick and light, made their way across the walkway toward him. An enemy. Instinctively Okita lunged to his feet, unsheathing his sword at the same time, clumsy on his feet. The weight of the sword threw him off-balance and he reeled, dropping the sword and falling forward into a pair of all-too-familiar arms. Okita looked up, panting, to see Saitoh practically glaring down at him in annoyance, like old times.
"You'll never defeat an enemy while drunk, Okita. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Saitoh reprimanded in the scolding tone that always made Okita laugh. This time was no different. He laughed, his laughter giving way to harsh coughing, blooding trickling from his mouth.
"Sorry.Master Saitoh," he panted, his breathing coming out in short gasps.
"Why did you come back, boy?" Saitoh demanded, getting straight to the point. Okita grinned up at him sheepishly, every bit the boy he had always been.
"I just wanted to find you, Master. There's nothing-" His coughing interrupted him before he could finish. "-wrong with that, is there?" Suddenly his eyes felt heavy, sleepy, and began to close. "I wanted to see you.one last time."
"Okita?" Saitoh seemed somewhat puzzled, staring down at him with masked concern. Okita rested his head against Saitoh's chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Master Saitoh had always been healthy, his heart a strong drum as it beat endlessly. Slowly Okita's eyes closed.
"I wanted to come home.one last time," he whispered, his voice faint, before he began coughing heavily, blood filling his mouth and trickling down his chin. He wiped it away weakly as always, opening his eyes to look up at Saitoh again. "Hey Master, do you still smell blood.Or is it all just your warlord senses playing tricks on you?"
"Okita, you should choose your words as though your life depended on their pleasing me," Saitoh replied. A ghost of a smile crossed Okita's lips as he closed his eyes once again, his breathing stilling to nothing. Saitoh closed his eyes, lowering his head in momentary sadness, before laying Okita down on the walkway. He picked up Okita's sword, sheathing it in its sheath for Okita, before standing up and walking away, leaving Okita there alone with only the water, wind and sun for company.
Ja ne and enjoy.
Kino-boi
A man walked along the dusty road that led to Kyoto, his head bowed in thought. A sword rested at his side despite the laws that forbid the carrying of such a weapon; his hand brushed across the hilt as though to assure himself it was there. He was fairly young, though not a boy, around twenty-four or twenty-five, dressed in the usual style of the Meiji era, his haori a dark, green color. His hair, a dark color, was tied back carefully, leaving a fringe of bangs over his face. With the slightest sigh he stopped, turning his gaze to the clear skies above, his eyes a warm, gentle brown.
It had been many years since he had been to Kyoto, the city of his earlier years.
The years when he had been at the height of his strengths. For Okita, Kyoto held many memories. He lowered his gaze to the city, his eyes widening slightly. He had expected change, but the Kyoto he now saw looked nothing like the Kyoto of his Kyoto Shishodai days. Okita's eyes filled with sadness momentarily before he continued steadily forward.
Kyoto. The center of the Meiji government, the one thing the Shinsengumi had tried so hard to prevent. Then the Shinsengumi had been disbanded and the members either executed, committed seppuku, joined the Meiji or, in the case of Okita, simply disappeared altogether.
And Master Saitoh.No one had heard anything from him since Okita had left. Rumor had it that he had joined up with the Imperialists soon after the Ikeda Ya battle, possibly even before that time.
Into Kyoto. It was alive and festive with people walking through the streets and children playing, running this way and that. Okita wandered through familiar streets, looking around, slightly in awe. It was changed, larger and more crowded.
Of course. Years ago, when Okita had been a boy of the Shinsengumi, Kyoto had been burnt to the ground during a fight between Imperialists and the Shinsengumi.
Okita coughed, choking up a bit of blood into his hand. He hastily wiped it away with a weary sigh and continued on, looking for a tavern or some other place to buy a drink.
"Where are you going, boy?" a familiar voice asked. Okita's eyes widened. As if in slow motion he turned around to see Saitoh standing in the street, wearing a policeman's uniform with a lit cigarette in his mouth, looking older and meaner but still like Saitoh. Okita stopped himself from exclaiming in delight, ducking his head down instead.
"I was going to the tavern," he answered, wondering if Saitoh recognized him or if he did, if he cared. Saitoh had always seemed to be looking after him as a boy, always stopping him before he could push himself past his limits, but it had seemed to be little more than a master/pupil relationship. "Could you show me the way? It's been years since I was last here in Kyoto, and it's all changed so much," Okita stated with a laugh, hoping Saitoh recognized him. Saitoh had always liked his laugh, even though he would never show it.
"Of course," Saitoh replied. "Follow me." He walked past Okita with long strides, heading down the street. Okita hurried after him, falling into step alongside him.
"It's amazing how much Kyoto has changed since I left. It's like it's a whole different city," he mused, trying to start a conversation.
"It basically is now," Saitoh stated shortly.
"Yes, of course, but I had hoped that it wouldn't have changed so much. I feel like a total stranger here now." Okita sighed with another laugh. Saitoh stopped in front of the tavern.
"Here we are, boy." Without another word he turned and left Okita. Okita smiled slightly, sadly.
He had returned home for nothing. The one person he had been searching for didn't recognize him anymore. A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he turned and went inside without another backwards glance.
Saitoh made his way through the streets, his mind whirling with questions and memories.
Who was that boy? Was he really Okita? If he was, why was he back in Kyoto after so long? What was he looking for? There was nothing left in Kyoto for him unless.
Saitoh froze, his eyes widening at the thought.
Had Okita returned for him? Quickly he whirled around and returned the way he had come, forcing his way through people and eliciting cries of displeasure as he shoved them aside. He slipped into the tavern, standing in the doorway and looking around.
"Excuse me, there was a boy in here a bit ago, dark hair, fringe of bangs, brown eyes?" he stopped a serving girl, looking around the tavern at the same time. The girl shook her head.
"He left a few moments ago after getting a drink," she answered. Saitoh swiftly left the tavern, looking around for any signs of the boy.
Where had Okita gone? As if the answer had just occurred to him, Saitoh turned and began making his way to the waterfront.
Okita walked wearily along the waterfront, one hand trailing along the wooden railing on his left side. His vision was unclear, barely able to focus on his surroundings, a result of the sake, he told himself. He had drunk too much probably.
Normally, if he ever drank too much, Master Saitoh would have been there to tease him lightly and carry him home. But now.He was alone. Okita stopped walked, sagging against the railing as a fit of coughing overtook him. Slowly he sank to his knees, blood dripping to the wood planks of the walkway.
Footsteps, quick and light, made their way across the walkway toward him. An enemy. Instinctively Okita lunged to his feet, unsheathing his sword at the same time, clumsy on his feet. The weight of the sword threw him off-balance and he reeled, dropping the sword and falling forward into a pair of all-too-familiar arms. Okita looked up, panting, to see Saitoh practically glaring down at him in annoyance, like old times.
"You'll never defeat an enemy while drunk, Okita. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Saitoh reprimanded in the scolding tone that always made Okita laugh. This time was no different. He laughed, his laughter giving way to harsh coughing, blooding trickling from his mouth.
"Sorry.Master Saitoh," he panted, his breathing coming out in short gasps.
"Why did you come back, boy?" Saitoh demanded, getting straight to the point. Okita grinned up at him sheepishly, every bit the boy he had always been.
"I just wanted to find you, Master. There's nothing-" His coughing interrupted him before he could finish. "-wrong with that, is there?" Suddenly his eyes felt heavy, sleepy, and began to close. "I wanted to see you.one last time."
"Okita?" Saitoh seemed somewhat puzzled, staring down at him with masked concern. Okita rested his head against Saitoh's chest, listening to his heartbeat.
Master Saitoh had always been healthy, his heart a strong drum as it beat endlessly. Slowly Okita's eyes closed.
"I wanted to come home.one last time," he whispered, his voice faint, before he began coughing heavily, blood filling his mouth and trickling down his chin. He wiped it away weakly as always, opening his eyes to look up at Saitoh again. "Hey Master, do you still smell blood.Or is it all just your warlord senses playing tricks on you?"
"Okita, you should choose your words as though your life depended on their pleasing me," Saitoh replied. A ghost of a smile crossed Okita's lips as he closed his eyes once again, his breathing stilling to nothing. Saitoh closed his eyes, lowering his head in momentary sadness, before laying Okita down on the walkway. He picked up Okita's sword, sheathing it in its sheath for Okita, before standing up and walking away, leaving Okita there alone with only the water, wind and sun for company.