Through My Eyes
By: Stealiana

The boy looked better, but his eyes were glassy as he watched me approach.

"Are you alright?" Pointless question.

"Fine." He smiled, deciding not to tempt fate with a laugh at my absurd inquiry.

"We should walk you to the doctor. Do you think you can get up?"

"Yes." He shakily moved to stand.

"Let me help…" I placed his arm about my neck and pulled him up. Another smile.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing."

We slowly made our way down the stone path, out the gate, into the street. Each step seemed to take longer than the last, but I was in no hurry. Our pace suited me.

It gave my mind a moment to wander back to what my husband had told me. Delegated a messenger. Terminally ill. Useless to the group. "Circumstances have changed…" The lost look in his eyes, the choked back coughs, and the endless chatter. Everything fit together.

The poor boy - I pitied him so! - had been wandering once he was cut loose from the demands of his position. He had stopped by to see my husband, hoping to fill the emptiness of the days through contact with another commander. But only I was there. Seizing his opportunity, the boy instead talked to me, hoping it would still fill the gap. He reverted to the only time my name had been mentioned to him, having nothing else to say, but desperate to fill the silence that was his life. And thus, unintentionally assisting me.

Yes, I pitied him. Without his sword, what was he?

"I always wondered what it was like to walk to death. How strange that it looks like the streets of Kyoto!" He stared ahead obstinately, as if he was seeing something in the empty street that I could not.

"Okita?"

"Ah… so it is you who is accompanying me, sister?" When he turned to look at me, his eyes were blind to my true identity. The blank gaze and uncompromising smile made me shudder - something was terribly wrong.

"It's been so long since I've seen you! And how fitting, that you would lead me down the same path you walked yourself…" His gaze shifted to the road ahead and his smile faded. "I never forgot you, sister…"

"Come." I said quietly. "We are almost there…"

"Yes, we are! I can feel it in my bones…" He tried to take a deep breath, but only succeeded in starting another fit. Curses, I thought, he is growing heavy! Regaining control and his balance, we straightened to walk the last few houses.

"What's it like, sister? Is it… peaceful? Does the pain leave?" My mind was blank, repeating the same words that by now I knew to be true. He was hallucinating.

"Sister? You know I got them back, don't you?" His fingers suddenly dug into my shoulder, the pressure almost painful. "You know I didn't let the bastards get away with it! I hunted them down. I killed them all! Every single one of those assholes - I slit their throats!" His voice was growing louder, echoing against the silent buildings as I cringed. "How could I let them kill you? I sat there and watched you die!"

His anger emanated from his body in the same way that his voice flew forth from his mouth so violently. What had happened to this boy? I wondered, fearful almost of his rage. But with his emotion returned his sickness, and the episode was worse than the last, not even allowing him the dignity to face whatever it was he hid behind that cheerful smile. His ravings had unveiled a darkness that welled inside of him like boiling water, ready to burst open the thin shell that held his sanity. To live a life of helplessness and guilt… I had the luxury of never dealing with such pains, and what was I to say to someone who had?

Okita's face was streaked with tears, his attempt to cover his sobs aggravating his condition. But at least we had arrived at our destination.

My knuckles rapped urgently on the door. Please let someone hear me, my mind begged, as I knocked again. Blood began to spatter the dirt beneath us, and I felt my pulse quicken. Okita hung heavy on my arm, every cough bringing him further and further towards the ground as his body sagged.

A young woman about my age slid open a small wooden panel in the door.

"Yes?"

"Please!" I found myself pleading her in my fright. "There must be something you can do for him…" Her eyes grew wide when she saw Okita, and she called shrilly for her father, her feet pattering on the wooden floors. The minutes passed and I heard her shout again. At last, loud footsteps echoed down the corridor, and a much older man with graying hair squinted through the door at me.

"Well?" His voice carried his irritation at being disturbed. But now, I was furious.

"What kind of doctor leaves a man to die on his doorstep?" I accused over the sound of the boy's strangled chokes. "Open up!" My indignation caused my face to flame with ire. The man slid open the rice paper door at a leisurely pace, his brow knit in silent thought. Despite his age, his hands were strong and commanding as he took Okita inside - I merely stood on the doorstep, my anger ebbing away to worry.

As Okita felt himself being pulled away, he began violently protesting.

"No! Sister! Don't leave me! Who the hell are you? Sister!" His shrieks subsided into another fit of coughs, but he somehow found the energy to cry out repeatedly as the doctor forced him into an adjoining room.

I stiffened as the girl lay her hand on my arm.

"Would you like to come in?" She asked, her soft voice dragging me inside against my will. "I can make you some tea while you wait…"

"No, thank you." I shook my head, raising my hand to rub my face in an attempt to fight off exhaustion. "It will not be long."

I did not have the strength to explain what was happening - and did it really matter if they knew anyway? I realized I was not the one who should be here, watching him waste away. But if not me, then who?

As I predicted, it was moments before the doctor returned, his tired face grim.

"There is nothing I can do. I am sorry." With a slight nod, I acknowledged this. Really, I had known as much, but there was no harm in trying. The old man looked at me strangely, but was not surprised at my lack of emotion - no doubt he had seen it before.

"The boy is asking for you." I started - I was not about to walk in so he could pretend I was someone else! Pretending would merely rob him of dying with his dignity intact. But if I was not there, he would be alone. My conscience moved my feet to carry me in.

His face fell when he saw me - I supposed he had been expecting his sister. I knelt beside him, too bewildered and fatigued to say anything. Not that I even knew where to start.

"Saitou… Tokio." His voice rasped. "You brought me here?"

I nodded, relieved he recognized me. I would not have to expend any energy to carry on a charade. The feverish gleam had disappeared, only to be replaced with a mournful emptiness.

"Why?" Okita's face coiled with anger. "Why did that bastard have to come? Why couldn't he let me die!" His voice was so forceful in its quiet gasps, his fists clenched, shaking.

"Do you understand? I wanted to die on the battlefield! Die for what I believed in!" He averted his gaze. "I owed that much. Now… it is this."

Perhaps it was maternal instinct, a womanly compassion. I reached for his hand, cold and clammy, and enclosed it in mine.

"Okita," I began, struggling to find the words. "I do not know everything that has happened in your life, but I do know you have done more than enough - for your sister, for the Shinsengumi, for your cause… you did not have to die to prove your loyalty. You lived it." I felt my eyes watering with sadness. I was the only one to comfort him, the only one to forgive him in an effort to allow him to forgive himself. I would have liked to know what it was that hid behind the innocent smile. Time was running so short, and to think he was so young...

"It is your turn to rest." I said, my thumb caressing his palm. "You have disappointed no one."

As I spoke, the tears blinked from his eyes, cascading down his round face. The face of a child. His body grew limp and he feebly squeezed my hand, rasping,

"Is… that so?"

"Mm." I responded. "Every word is truth."

"A…ari…ga…" The cough choked him and he clamped his eyes shut. A spasm took hold of him, and when it departed, only silence was left in its wake. Only my breathing.

"It's nothing…" I whispered. "The least I could do…"

Shakily I stood, dislodging the corpse's hand from mine. The icy grasp of death had penetrated my fingers where the dead flesh had been clinging, and I furiously clawed at my hand, trying to erase the sensation from my palm.

I walked out of the room, rather dazed, and the two were there, looking at me sympathetically. Why did they pity me? He was the one who was alone…

"Please… keep… I can't…" My lips fumbled, in my confusion I could not speak, but only managed to stumble out the door.

My mind had invented a ghastly idea that plagued me as I walked. That could have been my husband with the death-hands, with the closed eyes and white lips. That could have been him tonight. Death stood next to the members of the Shinsengumi and they knew it. They did not care - they embraced it.

Death for the cause. That was their purpose, their dream; Okita had confirmed it. And next to the stunning whirlwind forces of ideals and death, what was I to him? He cared enough to acquiesce before me, to let me on equal footing with him - but did he care enough to put me before death?

In my flurry of doubts, I was blind. I did not see the two shadows waiting behind the trees before my gate; I did not look up as I unlocked the entrance. I did not know what hit me on the side of the head. But I knew enough to catch myself as I fell. Crawling like a wounded animal, I managed to reach the bottom step, my head pounding, my mouth tasting of blood. They had not hit to kill, merely to stun. And they had missed.

"Damn it, Isamu." A voice accused flatly. "Now we have to kill her."

"Eh…" The second voice seemed reluctant to argue. "We aren't after her though…"

"Perhaps." I heard the sliding of a sword in its sheath.

"But our orders were-"

"They did not know he would have a whore with him. We have no alternative. Kill her. Even if we do not want to - we can have no witnesses."

My clothes prevented me from moving very fast, and I dared not stand. There was no escape, the two men were closing in quickly. I turned, determined to see my murderers so that I might curse them for all eternity.

The man standing above me, katana poised, was a young man. Like Okita, I thought, feeling my head spin in confusion. The other was farther back, hidden in the shadows, but even in the dark, my eyes discerned that he had the strangest color hair - a fiery red.


A/N: Ohhhh surprise surprise! Look who's here! If you can't figure out who the mystery man is... Saitou is going to come and gatotsu you! XD This is just a note on the fact that it may take me more than my customary 2 days to update (4 maybe? At most), as the next scene has dialogue that needs to be dealt with carefully. Saitou is trying to become OOC and I need to stop him. x.x And another warning - the fic is almost finished, unless some crazy inspiration hits me. There will be two more chapters, I think. I like to ramble, so we'll see.