Last Time of My Life

Thanks to everyone who continues to read this even after the awfulness that was chapter nine. Thanks especially to Hellfire13 who's very persistent in her efforts to get me inspired to write. She is my ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. :D

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Chapter Ten: May

After Takeuchi's death, Okita withdrew into his room and stayed there. He cried for days, and even passed out twice because as he wept, he had ignored his shortness of breath caused both by his being upset and the disease that plagued him. His condition worsened during the time he spent mourning, mostly because he would not sleep and still refused to eat anything.

Although Matsumoto did not want to impose on Okita while he grieved, the doctor still insisted that he continue with his daily check-ups. He found that Okita's fevers had returned with a vengeance and because of his deteriorating lungs, his coughing sounded worse than ever. Matsumoto began to grow even more concerned when he noticed how listless Okita had become; if he wasn't sobbing over the death of his friend, then he was staring at the woven threads in the tatami, his eyes glazed. Matsumoto worried that Okita was just going to make himself a lot sicker if he continued on this way.

Okita did not cry at Takeuchi's funeral. In fact, it was the only time after her death that he didn't shed a tear. He was devastated, of course, but the day of the funeral, he just felt so...numb; he made up for his lack of tears later that night.

A large number of patients at the hospital had been in attendance simply because Matsumoto had asked them to make an appearance, but no one really knew her. Even Satsuma member Yamamoto Hide had shown up. His reasons for arriving had been simply to taunt Okita, but even he could not find it in himself to pester the former Shinsengumi captain during such a grievous time. Okita's lack of any kind of emotion kind of set him off too; even he felt a little sadness when a close comrade passed.

Takeuchi was buried in the secluded corner of the hospital near her old room. A young sakura tree had been planted at the gravesite and Matsumoto suggested the possibility of Takeuchi's soul being reincarnated into the blossoms next spring. He said that if that happened, the flower petals would be a vibrant cherry color instead of the typical pale pink. When Okita was told this, he withdrew further into himself, realizing that he wouldn't be around long enough to see if that happened.

Eventually, Matsumoto had had enough. It had been two weeks since Takeuchi's death and her funeral, and it was about time that Okita stopped being so overdramatic in his mourning. Matsumoto wanted Okita to live like he only had months left, not years. The fact that Okita really did only have months to live was purely coincidence.

He stalked towards Okita's room, carrying a small tray topped with a steaming cup of tea and two large onigiri. He slid Okita's door open, almost slamming it shut behind him. The room was terribly dark and Matsumoto could just barely make out Okita's silhouette, huddled in a corner with his knees pressed against his chest. Matsumoto walked over to Okita and placed the tray down in front of him. He then stood up and began lighting various candles around the room.

"How are you feeling today?" Matsumoto asked when he came back and sat in front of Okita.

Okita didn't answer him verbally, but he sighed heavily. With the light from the candles, Matsumoto could see the fresh film of tears over Okita's eyes as they threatened to spill over.

Matsumoto snorted impatiently. He would have to try a different tactic. "Happy birthday, Soji-kun," he said pushing the small tray closer to Okita's feet.

Okita's breath caught for a second. He looked up at Matsumoto slowly, and the doctor could see that his eyes now held within them a new spark for life, and he began to blink his tears away.

"What?" Okita said, his voice hoarse.

"Happy birthday," Matsumoto repeated. "Today's May 5th."

Okita wiped away any remaining tears with his palms. Today was his birthday. He was twenty-six years old. He struggled with the muscles in his face until he was able to give a small smile.

"Thank you," he said.

He grabbed one of the onigiri and nibbled on it. Usually, he would have loved to have eaten them, but ever since his illness had taken away his appetite, Okita could not find it in himself to enjoy any food offered to him. He once told Matsumoto that now everything he ate tasted like mud. He took a sip from his cup, realizing instantly that he was drinking green tea. It must have been because of the special occasion that the doctor allowed him something other than his usual diet of water.

"I really appreciate this, Matsumoto-san," Okita said. "I really needed the cheering up."

Matsumoto placed his hand on Okita's shoulder and smiled. "Of course," he said. "I know that Amaterasu's death was hard on you; it was for me as well."

Okita took a large bite of his onigiri, just to humor the doctor. Matsumoto had gone through so much trouble to get him these snacks and had the patience to deal with his sulky attitude that the least he could do was eat one of the rice treats. He had to force himself to swallow, but when he finally did he was glad. Once he had bitten halfway through the rice ball, Okita could taste the plum-flavored filling, and it was delicious.

"Don't eat those too fast or you'll get a stomachache," Matsumoto said sternly, but not unkindly. He was relieved and a little surprised to see that Okita had already moved on to his second onigiri. "Well, I've got patients to attend to. Please tell me you'll get some rest after you finish that?"

Okita smiled. "Actually, I wanted to sit outside and just enjoy the scenery. Would that be all right?"

"I suppose so," Matsumoto said with a slight frown, "but promise me you'll at least get a little sleep tonight."

The former Shinsengumi captain nodded. During his time of mourning, he had been so depressed that he had ignored so many of his human necessities, and finally his lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him. His full stomach probably wasn't helping any either. After Okita had assured Matsumoto that he would get some rest and thanked him again for the birthday meal, he followed the doctor out of his room, bidding him farewell as Matsumoto continued to another patient's room.

As if the death of his closest friend wasn't enough, it would have to be raining on his birthday too. Okita sighed heavily as he sank to the ground just beside his open shoji door. He leaned against the outside wall of his room, watching the steady downpour. He was twenty-six years old; he reminded himself of this over and over again. Not even he thought he could be so lucky. Hijikata and Kondo were even luckier, look at how old they were! Okita chuckled softly. He would love to see Hijikata's face at having been called old.

But Takeuchi Amaterasu was not old, nor would she ever grow to be. Her life had been stolen from her at the young age of twenty-three, and her twenty-fourth year would have started this September. Okita began to wonder if he would even see his next birthday. When Yamazaki had first diagnosed him last year, he had made it very clear that Okita would not live through the coming summer. The beginning of summer started in just a month's time. Did he have enough strength left in him to make it to what would have been Takeuchi's next birthday? If he could manage to hold on for that long, maybe there was a chance that he could defeat his life-consuming sickness. If he could just make it until September then that would prove that Yamazaki had been wrong.

He felt a tickling sensation on his left forearm, followed by an irritating sting. Okita's eyes flashed to the mosquito on his arm that had decided to make her next meal out of him. Without a moment's hesitation, he swatted at the mosquito before she even had the chance to fly off. The blood that had already been in the mosquito's belly, either from Okita or another of the insect's hosts, was smeared across Okita's arm when he killed her. He frowned when he saw it. Even without the use of a sword, he couldn't resist the act of spilling someone else's blood. He wiped furiously at the dead mosquito and the mess it had left behind with his kimono sleeve, rubbing his arm until it was red.

Frustrated, Okita threw his arms to his sides. This way he could not look at them without effort. Anything the color of blood disgusted him, whether it be actual blood or the obi on a kimono. Matsumoto told him it was all psychological; that the reason he detested the color so much was because he knew that the more blood that expelled from his mouth, the closer he was to death.

Okita sniffled, trying to hold back another wave of tears. Matsumoto had come to him to cheer him up, and it was about time that he buck up anyway. He just found it so hard. Not only because of Takeuchi's death, but he had always seen her as strong in everything she did, and the fact that it was some stupid disease that finally did her in was too much for Okita to bear. He figured that if Takeuchi succumbed to her illness, then what chance did he have of not doing the exact same thing? After all, in his current condition, he couldn't really say that he was much stronger than Takeuchi had been when she was alive.

He continued to sit on the raised deck for what felt like hours, watching the rain and listening as it bounced off the roof above him. Eventually, he could feel the need to sleep beginning to consume him, and he ignored his stiff muscles as he crawled to his feet and headed back to his room.

When he was settled in his futon beneath a pile of thick blankets, Okita yawned and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him. He soon felt a familiar tightness and his chest, so he sat up quickly and reached for his cup of tea. He coughed loudly, placing the ceramic cup beneath his lips just in time to catch the stream of blood at forced itself from his lungs and out his mouth. He shuddered once, before lying back down, plagued too much by his exhaustion to see any real reason to care.

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It was now three days after Okita's birthday. He was usually in a better mood than he had been before then, but even still, he did have his down times. He had just had one of these such times and now his eyes were red and puffy from another bout of crying, and he attempted to clear his head of any morbid thoughts by taking a walk around the hospital. He had heard word that another soldier from the war had been brought in last night for treatment, so he was curious to find out whom.

He continued across the raised deck, stopping once to sweep his eyes over the terrace garden. It was early afternoon on a fairly sunny day, so he was surprised when he saw that the square-shaped garden was completely empty. Frowning, Okita stepped off the raised deck, feeling the soft gravel crunch beneath his tabi. As he turned the corner around the giant maple at the center of the garden, he faltered and his heart skipped a beat. There, on his favorite bench on the shadiest side of the garden, sat the soldier he had heard about from the other patients.

"Hijikata-san!"

Okita jogged the short distance over to Hijikata, nearly tackling him as the vice-commander stood up to greet him. He felt Hijikata go rigid in his embrace, and when Okita turned to look up at him, he saw that Hijikata had gotten noticeably pale.

"What's wrong?" he asked instinctively taking a step backwards.

"My foot," Hijikata responded through clenched teeth.

When Okita looked down, he noticed that Hijikata's left foot was tightly bound, and he seemed to be putting all his weight on his other foot in order to balance himself. It was then that Okita also saw the walking stick beside the bench that Hijikata must have been using as a crutch.

"Oh." He helped Hijikata back onto the bench, and only after he sat down beside him did he ask, "What happened?"

"It's a stress fracture," Hijikata said massaging his temples, his foot in obvious pain. "It happened during a battle."

Okita nodded, but kept all comments to himself. Even without medical training, he knew exactly what a stress fracture was and what it entailed. It was a pretty common injury for swordsmen in this day and age, and having once experienced one in his Shieikan days, Okita knew how painful it could be. They usually made themselves known when a swordsman stabbed their foot too hard against the ground while parrying an attack.

"I have something of yours," Hijikata said digging through one of his kimono sleeves. He pulled out a folded piece of parchment and handed it to Okita. When Okita continued to stare dumbfounded, he added, "It's Yamazaki's letter to you. I got it translated."

Okita didn't say anything as he took the paper from Hijikata's hand; he was too preoccupied thinking about how the letter had gotten back into Hijikata's hands in the first place. Okita had received the letter months ago, and when it had suddenly disappeared the next day, he thought he had lost it. Apparently, Hijikata had snuck off with it without his knowledge.

"Thank you," he managed to say.

His hands were trembling as he started to unfold the parchment, and he didn't know why. He almost dropped the letter several times. The fact that Yamazaki had addressed this letter solely to him made Okita more than just a little nervous to see what it contained. He was curious to know whether it contained any information pertaining to his illness, and if it did, what exactly would Yamazaki have to say that he hadn't been able to tell Okita when he was alive?

Okita stopped his attempts at unfolding the letter when Hijikata suddenly stood up beside him. He did not look at Okita as he started to limp back towards his room.

"W-Where are you going?" Okita stammered. For some reason, he didn't want to be alone.

"I thought you may want some privacy."

Okita frowned as he watched Hijikata slowly hobble away. He couldn't have taken another three steps before Okita had finally managed to open the letter in his hands. He read over the kanji quickly, pausing only for a second before reading it again a little bit slower. After reading it for a second time, he read it even slower a third time, making sure he understood each brushstroke of Yamazaki's translated words. Okita gasped, and then shook his head slowly, feeling faint.

Hijikata heard a soft groan behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Okita stumbling towards him before suddenly passing out. Hijikata was able to catch Okita before he hit the ground, but he began to grow increasingly worried when Okita stayed limp in his arms. Trying to hide his panic, but unsure of what else to do, Hijikata called out for Matsumoto. He probably stood there for a little under five minutes before catching sight of the doctor coming towards him.

"What's wrong?" Matsumoto asked taking in the situation. He was immediately alerted to Okita's still form. "Let's take him inside, quickly."

He helped Hijikata move Okita inside and lie him on the futon in his room. The next thing Matsumoto did was wrap Okita securely with a few blankets. He studied Okita carefully before doing a brief check-up to assess his condition.

Hijikata sat far enough away that he wouldn't bother Matsumoto in his assessment, but just close enough to take any quick action if needed. He twiddled his thumbs in his lap anxiously, unable to relieve his nervousness by any other means. He gazed at Okita's flushed face intensively, only able to take a guess at how sick the former captain really was.

"I don't think I've ever seen his fever this high before," Matsumoto said startling Hijikata out of his daze and confirming his suspicions. "I'm glad you were with him when this happened; I would hate to think of the state he'd be in if we hadn't gotten him inside as quickly as we did."

Hijikata didn't say anything. He couldn't help but think that this was somehow his fault. Okita had seemed all right when he had arrived earlier, but it was after that note that...

"What were the two of you doing when this happened?" Matsumoto asked.

"I gave him a note," Hijikata said softly. "A letter, actually. It was from Yamazaki."

He reached under Okita's blankets, blindly searching for his right hand. When he found it, he realized that his fingers were still tightly wrapped around the piece of parchment he had given to him not twenty minutes ago. Despite Okita's weakened condition, Hijikata had a difficult time prying the letter out of his grip. As he removed his own hand, Okita whimpered piteously.

"I brought it to him back in March," Hijikata continued. "The letter had been found on Yamazaki's corpse, addressed to Soji. Considering where the letter was found, it was extremely waterlogged and the kanji was badly smeared. Without him knowing, I took the letter with me when the Koyo Chimbutai last left Edo and hired someone to see if it could be salvaged and translated. This," Hijikata held up the parchment, "is the finished product."

"And what does it say?" Matsumoto asked curiously.

"I don't know. I figured that if it was only addressed to Soji that it was something solely for his knowledge."

Matsumoto frowned, nodding his understanding. Beside him, Okita began to fidget in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. He cried out once, a sickly, tortured kind of sound.

"Poor thing," Matsumoto said sounding pained. He reached out to wipe some of Okita's sweated-streaked bangs from his face. "I hope this episode doesn't last for too long."

"You don't think this," Hijikata held up the letter again, "has any connection to his high fever, do you?"

"I don't know how it could, but then, it couldn't have helped him either. You said he had just finished reading it when he fainted?" Matsumoto said that last part with uncertainty making it sound more like a question than a statement.

"Yes. Do you think I should...?"

"Why not? It can't hurt to try," Matsumoto said. "If it's from Yamazaki-kun as you say it is, then maybe it will help us treat his condition."

Hijikata did not touch the letter immediately. He turned to Okita who had started muttering nonsense, a variety of words that would never string together to complete an intelligent sentence. He watched as Matsumoto rang a washcloth over a basin that must have been used to subdue one of Okita's earlier fevers and placed it on his forehead. Okita's mumblings came to an abrupt stop and he sighed as the cool washcloth began to ease his temperature.

Taking this as some kind of sign to continue, Hijikata unfolded the crumpled piece of paper in his hand. He read the letter once to himself and then aloud for Matsumoto to hear. Because the original copy of the letter had been so terribly abused, the translation must have been difficult because some of the wording was awkward, and although not exactly what he would have expected from Yamazaki, Hijikata's face remained passive until he had finished reading.

"Okita,

I have found out some news recently and I think you might find it useful. As I'm sure you know, Takeuchi Amaterasu is a crystal user in the arts of healing. It appears to seem like Takeuchi is an illegitimate child because her mother and was married outside her clan. The only reason I tell you this is I think her mother's clan will want to retrieve any information on Takeuchi-san's crystal using if she went to pass away. I just want you to be careful.

Yamazaki Susumu"

Hijikata refolded the paper and placed it on the tatami before him. He was glad that he had found a translator cheap, but he was disappointed in their ability to get a clear understanding of Yamazaki's words. If he hadn't have been the tactful vice-commander that he was, and had not known Yamazaki for as long as he had, understanding the warning would have been difficult thanks to the translator's poor word placement and lack of proof-reading.

"Oh dear," Matsumoto said, frowning as he looked down at Okita who now appeared to be sleeping soundly. It would be a mystery to know how long that would last. "Do you think we should do something?"

"I don't think we'll have much of a choice. With Takeuchi's death, I'm almost positive that her ancestors will come here. I just hope Soji will be well enough to deal with them when the time comes."

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Yeah, so I started school again. When I first started this story, the semester was almost over and I could afford to dedicate more time than necessary to write up these chapters. But with the beginning of another semester and with classes like biology, math, and my second years in spanish and government, I don't think I'll have as much leisurely time. Please understand that my grades are more important than my fanfiction.

Now, about the actual chapter: whatever chapter before this that I said was my favorite has now been replaced by this one, and I don't know why. No, May 5th is not my birthday. In Japan, this day is celebrated as Boy's, or Children's, Day, and although it was not yet recognized as a holiday during the time period that this story is written, I thought it would give Okita a sense of innocence to be born on this day (since I couldn't find his actual birthday anywhere online).

Next chapter: ??