This is my first tragedy story so please bare with me it you don't think it's good enough.
I wrote this story for some weeks ago I think, but I never had the guts to let it out before now. I was quite nervous for what you would think of it. But it's here now, so...
Disclaimer: Don't own Hakuouki or the photo.
'..I'm going to die soon, eh?'
Okita was on his bed, just laying there in a silent silence, thinking with a slight frown on his face. He couldn't sleep and had been awake for some time now, arms crossed over his chest body as relaxed as it possibly could. His body screamed, begging him to close his eyes but all his tries was useless. He just couldn't, and it was his thoughts that prevented him from doing just that.
The fact that he had tuberculosis wasn't such a huge surprise he had to admit.
He had known it for a while now, known it deep, deep inside himself that he was ill. It was just a surprise to figure out what the illness was… and that it wasn't any cure to it.
He closed his eyes and thought about the fact that he hadn't a long time left, that his life soon would disappear as the wind. With no alarm when it comes and with no traces left behind. Only a lifeless body that soon would rotten down till nothing while his soul flew up for the eternity waiting him.
'What am I suppose to do now?'
He didn't know why he asked that question, he knew what he was supposed to do. He knew what he wanted to do.
He wanted to fight. Fight for what he believed on; fight because he knew it was the right thing to do. Simply fight because he was good at it.
A sudden pain in his chest made him open his eyes on high alert and gasp for needing air. He crouched himself together while he quickly took a hand for his now coughing mouth and held it there until the cough-stream was over.
Then he silently took the hand away and looked at it with two emotionless eyes that hid no surprise when he saw what it was. Blood. Red, life-needing, wet blood was smeared on his hand. . .Again.
He had coughed a lot recently, and every time he coughed a bit blood came out. Sticky blood he'd seen many times before; blood from people he had killed with his blade or just bare hands, blood from dead or slowly dying friends who begged him to prevent the upcoming thing. Blood he didn't want to see from himself ever in his lifetime. He dried the red thing away and looked up at the roof above him with a face free from all emotions.
Okita wanted to die in battle. He wanted to fight until his body couldn't move anymore and still fight till he breathed for the last time. He didn't want the bloody disease to win over him in his last moment of life. He wanted to die with many swords, knives ... hell, even bullets in his body. Like a hero. Like a true hero who had fought well for what he believed on, well for his beloved country.
He had decided to die in battle; he wanted to die as a true warrior. A warrior people could look up to, like a warrior who people praised and loved from whole their hearts.
One thing Okita knew was that the tuberculosis wouldn't take over his life. He didn't want to change his lifestyle just because it was a good idea when the death just comes closer, quicker if he didn't.
'I love how my life is; a disease will not change anything...'
He used to think that when the coughing and agony came, every time he wanted to give up because it hurt so much in his dying body he thought that thought and came over it… Every fucking time.
Even though his comrades and friends would brag about drink much healthier, take a time-out or something like that, he wouldn't. Oh no, he refused.
Even Chizuru's pleading voice wouldn't buck him a millimeter.
Shinsengumi's Captain of the First Unit, Souji Okita would live the life he wanted and die in battle like his comrades... like a true warrior.
'And nothing would change that...' he thought, making his famous smile before drifting into a longing sleep his body had craved for a very long time.
So, what do you think? Horrible bad, on the middle or just.. okay?