Redeem

(Word 62)

It's too hard.

The sword is clenched between my fingers, slippery in the warm April rain, and with every downward stroke my muscles scream at me, not unlike Tatsu-nii's admonishments. Stupid boy, what are you thinking now, trying to do something you know you can't! I'm sorry, I think, but I have to get stronger. I have to get stronger so Hijikata-fukuchou will know I am a man. I have to get stronger so I can find my parents' killer. I have to get stronger, but I don't really have a reason.

Not one that doesn't follow circular logic. I need a reason that I can explain, that I believe in from the bottom of my heart.

Revenge isn't a reason. But I have nothing else, so I clutch at it, like a drowning man, and it pulls me down farther, past what I used to know about my own heart and mind.

These days, it seems Okita-san is the only one who sees me. Okita-san, who is watching me right now, frowning slightly. If he were Tatsu-nii, I'd say he was worrying I might catch cold. Since he's not, it's probably that he knows what I'm thinking, and is about to tell me I'm fine as I am–then he'll smile and say a little candy will fix me right up, like that's the answer to everything. Okita-san, the only person who believes I'll find my reason, and doesn't care that I don't have one right now.

Okita-san... Would he know if, in my mind, I start to call him Souji? If he knew...would he be angry?

"Tetsu-kun?"

I stop, and turn to look at him. "Hai." I continue my practice. Stronger...

"We should go in. You can't practice if you get sick."

He knows what I'm going to say next. There's no point in it, and I just bark the same words over and over again, but I have to say it. I'll look desperate if I'm out here for no reason. "I need to get stronger."

"No. No, you don't." Gentle hands pry the shinai from my grip. When did he get so close? Right next to me and I never noticed. "Tetsu-kun, don't strain yourself. When it is ready, it will come. You can't be a man before you've finished being a boy."

He's read my mind again. How does he do it? Something in me feels glad to be understood, but another, ugly part of me rises to the surface and snaps back with what I know will hurt him, deeper than whatever he shows: "What about you? You jumped right in when you were nine."

Even as I curse myself for saying it, Okita's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "Exactly. I know what you risk. Do you want to become like me, someone who can't be saved?"

"That's not true! I'll save you!" I grab at his sleeve, my eyes pleading.

"You can't save me. No one can." Sadness is in his eyes, not anger.

Okita drops the shinai on the ground and walks away. I pick it up again, staring at the contrast of the wood against my hands. Slowly, I find my stance again and begin to swing.

This is too hard. I have to be stronger, to be worthy of him. So he'll let me fight for his redemption.