NOTE: Wow, people reviewed. That made my day. Thanks to all who were brave enough to read this, and thank you very much for your supportive comments. So here's the second chapter: I hope it's up to speed. I also hope that it's not too long. I tried to shorten it as much as I could. Again, thanks so much for reviewing.

The Flow of Blood

chapter two: similarities & assasins

Okita peered over his tea, tentatively, and glanced at the boy sitting cross-legged across from him. His face was the color of cream, and he was sure that if he touched his skin, it would feel like soft whipped butter. His eyes were big and dark, like pools of the night sky; the curve of his face was almost entrancing, as a mop of dark brown hair fell against the sides of his head...

"Souji-san?" Okita started at the sound of his name, bringing his eyes to focus. He felt some heat rise to his face. He had just retrieved Soujiro from beneath his shed, and had given him a yukata to wear while his clothes dried.

"Gomen nasai, Soujiro-san," Okita said, sitting up looking forcibly at his tea. "I drifted off for a moment there!" He laughed and scratched the back of his head nervously.

Soujiro widened his smile. "It's alright, Souji-san. I do that sometimes, too."

Okita cleared his throat a little bit, and continued. "So, Soujiro-san, where exactly are you coming from?" That was always a good start to conversation.

"That's quite a good question, Souji-san," He started. "Unfortunately, I have no idea. I just arrived here today...I'm not too great with maps." He laughed, rather guiltily.

Okita nodded. "It's quite understandable. I never got the hang of maps myself until the latter part of my life." He grinned. He suddenly felt the impulse to ask the boy for his age.

Soujiro kept smiling, unnerving the older man a little. "I just turned twenty a few days ago," He said, as if having read Okita's mind. "Perhaps I've yet to understand maps. I think I might stay here for a while, however."

"Happy belated birthday, Soujiro-san," Okita offered. "However, I'd suggest that you leave Yamagata for a few months. Right now, there's rumors of some people who are out for blood." And it was true. Just whose blood they were after was another issue. He shifted unfomfortably. He knew quite well of the rumors passing around the city, and they managed to get under his skin. As of late, he found himself painfully aware of each small sight and sound that passed him.

"Honto ni?" Soujiro said, slowly, gazing at Okita. "Who are these people?"

"I'm not quite sure," Okita said, evasively. "But I know that the rumors are more than likely true. As a matter of fact, I'm considering leaving Yamagata myself."

"What about your dojo?" Soujiro's head tilted a little as he asked the question.

"I'm not offering lessons as of late, due to this person." Okita said. He did not like how Soujiro was coming on to him like this. He wanted to keep his identity from the boy, and letting him know more about this killer was a surefire way to get him to figure out who he was.

He simply nodded. "I know you can fend for yourself, Souji-san," The boy started, slowly. "But I would be happy to offer my services to help keep you safe."

Okita blinked, taken aback in surprise. "Do you fight, Soujiro-san?"

Soujiro's grin caught him off guard. "Hai, Souji-san, I do. I presume you did not take notice of my sword that I was carrying with me?"

Sword? No, he certainly didn't notice that. He mentally smacked himself. He was too busy staring at the way the boy's wet gi had stuck to his body, wasn't he? You're losing your touch, Okita, he thought to himself. Get a grip on yourself. "Iie." He said, sternly, bringing up his guard.

Soujiro nodded. "I know a few things about the sword, myself. I do not use my sword to kill, however. You needn't mistrust me." There was a very small edge to his voice that Okita did not catch.

"I see." Okita nodded slowly, remembering his own sword, the Kikuichimonji Norimune. It was locked away, now. It held too many things that he wanted to forget. "What style do you practice?"

"Tenbu no Sai Niyoru Ken." The boy said.

Okita nodded slowly. "Hai, I believe I have heard of that. You are capable of the Shukuchi, ne?"

Soujiro nodded, still grinning.

"I see." He had severely underestimated this boy. He felt uncomfortable all of a sudden, in the presence of the younger man, shifting uneasily. Soujiro strongly reminded him of--quite frankly, himself. He seemed to be an accomplished swordsman, though he bore the looks of a boy who was barely fifteen years old. He was small and not heavily built, but Okita did not doubt that he had power. It reminded him of the talk about some events that took place in Kyoto a few years ago...

"What's the matter, Souji-san?" Soujiro asked slowly, his smile beginning to fade a little. "Do you mistrust me for some reason?"

Okita smiled. "Iie, Soujiro-san. May I ask for your surname?"

Soujiro grinned widely. "And why is that?"

"Just wondering." Okita said, evasively.

"And may I ask for yours?" He grinned, almost angelically, as Okita felt a surge of annoyance.

"No, Soujiro-san, you may not."

"I see." Soujiro placed his empty teacup on the table and got up, all of a sudden. He bowed politely to Okita, a smile playing on his face. "I would like to get some rest now, Souji-san." He said, matter-of-factly. "I'll take your advice and leave Yamagata in the morning. Again, arigatou gozaimazu, for your hospitality." He turned to leave. "But please: if you need any help, I would be more than happy to assist you."

Okita nodded, and watched as Soujiro walked toward the room that he had let him sleep in, but he found himself staring in that direction for a long time after he was gone.

----::----

Later that night, Okita fell into an uneasy sleep. He found himself tossing and turning repeatedly, both mentally and physically exhausted. At last, when he fell into a shallow rhythm of breaths, he found himself brutally awakened: rough hands grabbed his shoulders tightly and he felt cold steel press against his thoat...

Okita snapped his eyes open as he felt something sharp against his skin. The darkness was near blinding, but he knew that there was someone there. He seemed invisible to him, but the ki was definitely present. The man had both of his legs pinned down with his own, and his left arm down as well. He held his right arm with his elbow as he held the knife to Okita's throat. The stench of his breath breezed onto his face...

"Okita Souji." The man's voice was low, but provocative. He chuckled lightly; a normal person could have taken him for being plain crazy.

"Who are you?" Okita said, sternly. "What are you doing at my dojo in the middle of the night?"

"I have come to spill your blood, Okita." The man growled, his voice eerily happy.. There was what seemed like an insatiable passion in his voice, as if he had waited all his life to kill him.

"If so, why don't you challenge me, like a man? Have you no honor?" Okita said, his voice unnervingly calm. "Why sneak up on me at night? You are a coward." There was no insult in his voice, he simply stated his retort.

"Do not speak to me like that!" The man hissed, his mad fervor oscillating in the air between them. "You know nothing of honor and cowardice, you filthy Shinsengumi rat!"

Okita had had enough. His right arm was pinned down with less force than the rest of his limbs, so he took advantage of that situation. Yanking his arm free, he shot his hand at the man's throat, grabbing the exposed skin and squeezing tightly. The man made some faint noises, which sounded vaguely like threats, and he aimed the knife at Okita's arm.

He barely dodged, but not without getting cut. He began to bleed profusely, his hand still clutching the man's throat. When he felt the other man get slowly weaker from lack of air, he pulled his left, and most powerful arm free, tossing the man's upper body aside. He elbowed the side of the man's face aside, gaining the advantage, and easily pulled free from the grip of the man's legs.

The man, however, recuperated easily enough, before Okita could make a move to open a chest and pull out a sword, the man had caught up to him and was standing in front of him, a knife aiming for his head. He dodged, glancing up at this mysterious man. He still had no idea what he looked like, just that he was very fast.

He could sense the man approaching for another blow, and prepared himself. He had no sword to save him this time. No trusty Kikuichimonji Norimune to whip out, no Sandanzuki to perform. He was quite a lightweight physically, he knew. If he could just keep moving...

He felt steel skim against his arm as he dodged yet another attack.

"K'so! Stop moving!" The other man hissed, the anger he had seemed to pulsate throughout the room, encompassing everything in it's path. Okita frowned as he dodged again. What did this man have against him? Why did he seem to hate him so passionately? He didn't understand...

Another flash of steel missed him as he swerved to the right, but felt the hard wall of his room hit him instead. He turned to the left, but solid wall was there, too. He felt a cold sensation drip into his gut. The bastard had him cornered. Quickly, Okita calculated his next move. He could try and squeeze his way underneath the man's legs. Leaning down and anticipating another hit, he braced himself.

But the hit never came. Instead, he heard a loud shout from his opponent and a thump onto the floor. A few scrambling sounds echoed in the emptiness of the air and Okita correctly assumed that the man had fallen down somehow, and had gotten back up again.

"Damnit!" The man spat. "I underestimated you." Okita blinked. He hadn't done a thing. If something had knocked the man down...who was it? He tensed lightly, as he heard some steps. "I'll be back for you, Okita. The next time we meet, I will destroy you." The man hissed, his voice overflowing with a vengeance that made him cringe. And with that, he jumped out of the open window.

Okita stood still for a minute or so, in the pitch-blackness, sensing the other presence that he knew was there. His arm was bleeding; he could feel hot liquid flowing down his arm and pouring out onto his hand. His legs weakened slightly, as he watched, staring into the darkness, waiting for a slight movement...