A/N: The fascinating story and characters of "Touken Ranbu" and the "Musical Touken Ranbu" don't belong to me, but to their creators. Enjoy!

Info:

"Okusawa-kun" refers to Yamatonokami Yasusada, who takes on this name and identity when he goes undercover to infiltrate the Shinsengumi in the "Musical Touken Ranbu".

"Kondou-san" refers to Kondou Isami, Commander of the Shinsengumi.

"Hijikata-san" refers to Hijikata Toshizou, Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi.

"Mitsu" refers to Okita Mitsu, Okita Souji's sister who he stays with when he is stricken with tuberculosis.

The Nightly Visitor

Ever since he had been stricken with this accursed illness, rare were the nights that Okita Souji had slept well. Some nights, he'd awaken from perspiring so heavily that it felt like he'd jumped into a pool in his sleep. On such nights, if his body permitted, he'd crawl to the door and slide it open, basking in the cold night air. Other nights, he'd make sure that the door was tightly shut, terror lurking at the back of his mind as fevered dreams drove him to see shadows at the corner of his eyes, hovering right there, all around him, but remaining just out of his reach.

The damn demon cat that yowled incessantly was one such shadow.

(Although, the presence of said demon cat no longer brought fear so used that Souji was to its presence).

Then, there were nights where he'd lay between wakefulness and sleep, not fully alert but not dead to the world – his cynical mind laughed at the figure of speech, soon he'd be dead to the world all right, just not now, not tonight.

On such nights, he could sense the presence of the nightly visitors he'd receive. Most of the time, it was his sister or his brother-in-law who came by to check on him and make sure that he was still alive and breathing. Sometimes the footsteps were different, not the lighter, soft steps of his sister or the heavier but still quiet strides of her husband. These footsteps – a heavier shuffle than Mitsu's but still much lighter than you'd expect of man's – belonged to Okusawa-kun, the quiet but skilled new member of the Shinsengumi.

As the movements of the Shinsengumi grew more erratic with the escalation of the conflicts outside his bedroom walls – even though Kondou-san and Hijikata-san refused to mentioned anything in particular detail whenever they visited, even Souji's highest bout of fever hadn't killed his brain cells – Souji had seen less and less of his Shinsengumi comrades. The only constant had been Okusawa-kun, who had come by so often that his sister had actually given Okusawa-kun the permission and the means to come and go as he pleased. Souji suspected that he'd been assigned to look after Souji by his two Shinsengumi mother hens, but no matter how many times Souji had said that Okusawa-kun could stop coming by, the young man had only looked at him in silence and returned again the next day or a few days later, staying the night to watch over Souji before leaving at dawn.

Souji supposed he should be stronger in his protests, but there was something about Okusawa-kun that soothed Souji – a sense of familiarity which relaxed Souji's guard that he found only in the people closest to him – and his warrior instincts told Souji that, despite his suspiciously high level of devotion for someone who Souji barely knew, Okusawa-kun could be trusted.

Trusted to protect him.

Okusawa-kun was a good listener, who always looked interested in what Souji had to say, and it had become something of a game to Souji to try and prompt the other to speak or respond with something more than a nod or shake of the head.

Souji also slept easier in Okusawa-kun's presence, and so, Souji selfishly let him stay.

Then, there was the other nightly visitor. There were times when Souji wondered if he imagined this visitor. Unlike his sister and her husband, or even Okusawa-kun, this visitor's footsteps made no sound – the only reason Souji even knew he was in the room was because Souji could hear the quiet snick of the door as the visitor slid it open and shut behind them. Unlike his other visitors, this visitor usually didn't stay for long, certainly never until dawn, and sometimes, their visits were so brief that Souji wouldn't have known they'd been in the room if it weren't for the fact that he could sense the presence of another being close by. Once, Souji made the mistake of startling the visitor by acknowledging their presence, something which he regretted when it had spooked the visitor enough that it was a week, almost two, before the visitor dared return again.

(In those days, Souji had spoken to Okusawa-kun about this visitor, and that had been the most animated Souji had seen Okusawa-kun in a while, information that Souji hoarded close even if Okusawa-kun's rolled eyes suggested that he might not have necessarily believed Souji's tale.)

Still, some part of Souji continued to believe that the visitor was real. Maybe, not real in the way that his other nightly visitors were, but Souji could still sense their presence.

Were they a ghost? Some sort of spirit? Souji wasn't superstitious – he'd seen too much bloodshed, experienced too much death for that – but he also knew that some things were more than superstition.

Part of Souji had also wondered if, maybe, the visitor was like the demon cat, a shadow from Souji's nightmares, but Souji had dismissed the thought as soon as it had flitted through his mind. For some reason, this visitor reminded him of Okusawa-kun – no matter how close the visitor came to him, his guard never rose, and whenever the visitor was around, no matter how brief, Souji could feel his restlessness and anxiety melt away leaving behind the comforting blanket of dreamless sleep.

It was on one such night that Souji was feeling restless that the visitor came by. His room door, the one which led to the garden, had been left open as Souji had woken up from a bout of night sweats. Tossing his blanket aside, he had curled up in his futon trying to go back to sleep when he heard it – the quiet snick of the door.

Souji immediately stilled instinctively, not wanting to alert the visitor to his wakefulness, but his body chose to betray him, and at that very moment, he could feel a violent cough build up in his chest. Despite his efforts, he couldn't hold still any longer as the coughs tore through his body, leaving him shaking life a leaf in their wake. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, he felt too weak to even cover his mouth with his hands as he felt blood bubble up between his lips.

I'm sorry for the mess, Mitsu.

But, in the nick of time, he felt a cloth against his lips and a hand gently moving him so he wouldn't choke and drown in his own blood. He didn't know how long he laid there, coughing and gasping as the visitor continued to soothingly pat his back and support him.

It was then that Souji decided – even if he never saw the visitor again, just this once.

He wanted to know.

And so, as his trembling eased from violent shakes to more manageable tremors, as he felt the visitor slowly shifted him into a more comfortable position before moving away, Souji did the only thing that came to mind.

He grabbed the visitor's wrist.

Instantly, the both of them froze. Souji's hold on that slender wrist was so loose that the visitor could've broken away if they had wanted to, but before the visitor could think to escape, Souji whispered desperately.

'Don't go.'

The two words, so soft that Souji wasn't sure if the visitor had even heard him, were clearly enough. The visitor still could've run, but for some reason, he chose to stay.

And, Souji finally got his first good look at his last nightly visitor.

Moonlight flooded his room, and the silvery glow cloaked his visitor in a halo. It was a young man – Okusawa-kun's age? Souji's own age? – dressed in clothing that was foreign to Souji's eyes. Even in the dark, the young man was kneeling so close that Souji could see the moonlight reflect in the young man's eyes, blood-red orbs that seemed to glow from within their depths. There was something otherworldly about the young man, and Souji would've honestly thought that he was a spirit if it weren't for the fact that the wrist that was still caught in Souji's hold was decidedly solid.

'You're not a ghost, but you're also not human, are you?'

The visitor stared back at him, frozen and unblinking. Despite how surreal the situation was, Souji couldn't help but feel amused. Did the young man think that if he remained still, Souji would just dismiss him as a figment of Souji's imagination? Unfortunately for his captive, Souji had had plenty of practice speaking to people who wouldn't speak back and in finding out information about them that they did not want to reveal.

Eyes flitting back and forth between the young man's face and the rest of his figure, Souji tried to look for any detail that would give him an idea as to the visitor's identity. After all, he must've had some connection to Souji – no random spirit would be so invested in a dying human.

And then, Souji's gaze fell on the sword that the young man had laid on the floor beside him, mostly hidden by his black coat, but it was enough.

Souji's eyes widened.

He knew that sword, was so familiar with it that it was like an extension of his own body.

Kashuu Kiyomitsu.

His weapon, his shield, his amulet.

His partner.

Souji's eyes snapped back up to the young man's face. Suddenly, it was imperative that he memorised that face, drinking in the details, from the way his hair fell over his eyes to the beauty mark just below his lips. He even memorised the way the young man's earrings glinted in the moonlight.

It didn't make sense, it made no sense at all, but somehow, Souji knew.

The last time he had seen that sword, it had been but a shard of a blade in a hilt. Despite everyone telling him otherwise, he still kept that shard in his cupboard, wrapped up securely so it wouldn't hurt his nephews and nieces or anyone who happened to stumble upon it.

'You're Kashuu Kiyomitsu, aren't you? My sword, Kiyomitsu Kiyomitsu.'

The sword he had broken at Ikedaya.

Kiyomitsu Kiyomitsu's eyes widened slightly, and it was as if Souji's recognition had shattered the spell between them, but Souji was a battle-hardened warrior, and if nothing else, he knew when someone was about to make a move. With every ounce of strength he had, he held on to Kiyomitsu's wrist, trusting that Kiyomitsu wouldn't be so desperate to escape that he'd hurt Souji in the process.

(Or, if Souji were honest, even if he did, Souji would at least rest easy knowing he tried his hardest to keep Kiyomitsu there, by his side, in the way that he hadn't been given the chance to in Ikedaya.)

But, as Souji predicted, upon realising that wrenching away would injure Souji, Kiyomitsu stilled again, not relaxing but not straining to get away.

Souji prided himself on his emotional strength, or at least, his ability to keep up his façade of cheerfulness no matter how terrified or pained he felt inside, but this was too much. Already, he could feel his eyes burn.

Memories of the night assailed him, of him collapsing to his knees as coughs wrecked his body, of how he had desperately shoved Kiyomitsu in front of him without thinking, and of how, in that one moment of carelessness, he had felt it as violently as the coughs that continued to wreak havoc on him as Kiyomitsu had given way under the assault of his enemy. Kiyomitsu had held on for so long, long enough for Kondou-san to storm into the room and kill the man who had wanted Souji's head.

But, not long enough to survive the fatal blow that had splintered his blade, knocking him out of Souji's hand with such force that he was flung to the ground where his cracked blade finally broke.

The rest of the night had been a blur for Souji, and he had been whisked away from Ikedaya before he had even fully recovered his senses. By the time he had recovered his senses and asked about Kiyomitsu, it had been too late.

'I'm sorry.'

Souji looked straight into Kiyomitsu's wide eyes. Shifting his hand so that it now trapped Kiyomitsu's own against the floor, Souji sat up properly and cupped Kiyomitsu's cheek with his other hand.

His beautiful sword.

Who was, somehow, kneeling in front of him in human form.

Alive and whole.

Unbroken.

'It's far too late, but I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not taking care of you. I'm sorry for breaking you.'

And, he could see his final apology visibly hit home as Kiyomitsu finally made a sound – a wounded gasp that went straight to Souji's heart.

'I'm sorry for leaving you behind.'

As soon as he had recovered enough strength, Souji had gone back to Ikedaya with the hope of finding the pieces of Kiyomitsu that had been left behind. He would forever be grateful to Hijikata-san for retrieving his broken sword, but it had still been far too little, far too late. After his failed attempt at finding the rest of Kiyomitsu, Souji had gone to different swordsmiths, offering them anything and everything they could want in payment, if they could repair his sword.

'I tried so hard to repair you. I tried everything. I went to all the swordsmiths I knew, even the ones who were shady and who Hijikata-san said I shouldn't have gone to. Even if they had scammed me, even if I would've had to pay a higher price, I would've given everything for them to bring you back. But-'

Nobody had been able to.

One swordsmith had offered to melt down the broken blade that Souji had left and reforge it. Souji had refused with the fear that, if he had reforged Kiyomitsu, Kiyomitsu would become an entirely new sword, and he'd lose what little of his partner he still had left.

That the Kashuu Kiyomitsu he had treasured so dearly would be gone for good.

Would it have made a difference if Souji had managed to collect all of Kiyomitsu's pieces the night he had broken and bring them home? Would he have been able to repair Kiyomitsu then?

Would he still have Kiyomitsu with him, even now, as he lay stricken with illness, if he had not allowed said illness to kill Kiyomitsu, just as it was now killing Souji himself?

The words Souji had wanted to say for so long spilled from his lips.

'You were my treasure, you still are. I never wanted to leave you there. I never wanted to throw you away.'

I never wanted to abandon you.

I wanted to bring you home.

Even now.

I still love you.

Kiyomitsu's cheek was cold, and Souji wondered if it was because of the night air that filled the room or if it was because Kiyomitsu just wasn't human.

And, Souji began to doubt himself.

Maybe this was a dream? Maybe he was imagining Kiyomitsu haunting him as death approached because he had let death take Kiyomitsu first?

Then, Kiyomitsu moved, and Souji jumped as a hand gently covered his. Somewhere along the way, Souji's gaze had fallen from Kiyomitsu's face as the old aching guilt he felt sunk its claws into him.

With that motion, Souji's head jerked back up, and his breath caught in his throat at the expression on Kiyomitsu's face.

'I fulfilled my duty as a sword of the Shinsengumi and a sword of Okita Souji.'

There was pain in Kiyomitsu's voice, but also strength.

'The Shinsengumi won. I protected Okita-kun. I achieved my dream.'

Souji recognised the words, the emotions contained in the words.

Not quite peace, but it was acceptance.

They could not change their fates.

But, it was enough.

(Those were the same words Souji had spoken after Kondou-san and Hijikata-san's during one of their visits when they had reported to him the glad news that they had gained the recognition they had fought so hard for, and that they would now be fighting as the samurai they had dreamt of becoming, something Souji, himself, would not be able to do.)

Souji wanted to ask if Kiyomitsu resented Souji for breaking him and leaving him behind to burn like trash rather than the treasure he really was.

But, for one of the few moments in his life, Souji felt the true icy grip of fear.

If he were Kiyomitsu, he would resent Souji, hate him even.

And, Souji wasn't sure if he wanted confirmation of the answer he already knew.

'Okita-kun.'

Something in Souji's searching gaze must've tipped Kiyomitsu off to the dark turn of his thoughts because Kiyomitsu's voice was gentle and his expression had melted into something soft that filled Souji with warmth.

'Even now, I still love Okita-kun.'

Souji was dying – his illness threatening to break his spirit, to break him.

Just like how he had broken Kiyomitsu.

Even though everyone tiptoed around him, even though nobody wanted to tell him the truth, Souji knew that he could never be cured.

Just like how he hadn't been able to repair Kiyomitsu.

But, in this moment, with Kiyomitsu's words in his ears – healing the wound in his heart he hadn't realised was still bleeding – despite everything, to know that he still had Kiyomitsu's love.

To be able to apologise to Kiyomitsu and tell Kiyomitsu that Souji still cherished him.

That Souji still loved him.

'Now, sleep, Okita-kun.'

And, in the presence of his final nightly visitor, with Kashuu Kiyomitsu by his side again, Okita Souji slept.

No demons, not even his illness, disturbed his sleep that night.

~OWARI~