Realism
"We have no future."
Saito grinned around his cigarette. "Did you ever think otherwise?"
"Yes. I thought that...the gods favor desperate men, and honorable ones. We are both; why have the deities so abandoned us?"
The cigarette's glowing tip bounced as its owner laughed. "Abandoned? Okita-kun, they were never with us in the first place."
"Maybe." Okita bit his lip. Tonight, for some reason, he could not find a smile.
In Saito's eyes, something like pity flickered and died. Okita was talking more about himself than the Shinsengumi–that was the maybe. Nothing was certain. "Nothing..."
"What?" Okita asked, startled.
"Oh, just talking to myself." The smile turned his eyes to slits. He wondered, was it more intimidating than friendly?
"Because no one else listens?" Okita was joking. Saito did not feel humorous.
"Because someone is always listening."
Surprise flashed across the young taichou's face, then faded. "You know, those things will kill you," he advised, gesturing to Saito's cigarette.
The ridiculousness of it, the absurdity, made him laugh as Okita walked away; he took a deep drag and did not exhale for some time.
Nothing was certain.