Chapter Text
This was normal, right? Okita kept telling himself that. It was normal for guys to let their guard down when drunk. It was normal for guys to give each other a hand. So why did he feel so bad about it?
It had been 24 hours since he and Yankee had gotten drinks together. The same night where his tall companion kneeled in front of him in the pale moonlight and did... something. That felt good. And that he remembered more of than he cared to admit.
It didn't feel like he'd been taken advantage of, because Yankee didn't take it that far. And he remembered him giving a hesitant look before he undid the knot in the front of his hakama. No, that wasn't the problem... The problem was that he liked it, that he let it happen. And that for the entire day, Yankee had acted as if nothing had happened. Just as cheerful yet prone to pouting as before.
Perhaps it was better that way. He could hardly imagine a verbal fight between them with their (although now thinner) language barrier. He dreaded losing someone he considered an ally. No- a friend. But what right would he have to be cross with him, anyway? It was his idea! Even if he was drunk, he still...
A memory of those blue eyes looking up at him in the dark flashed before him again, and Okita rubbed his in turn. It was too hot outside for this.
He could retire to the shade of their headquarters, but he came out there to shave, and needed to finish. But it was a difficult task with a wandering mind. He needed to sort this out soon, or it would start to affect his duties as commander. Worse than that, Kondo or Hijikata might notice.
And like an act of some unnamed god, he heard the dark figure of Kondo step out onto the engawa behind him.
"You seem very focused," said Kondo sarcastically.
"Is there something about the empty courtyard that's particularly fascinating to you?"
"Very funny."
Okita huffed and dipped his razor back into the water. Although it was once still, the blade broke the water's surface and made it stir with a plop. A sound made even louder by the stillness of that summer evening.
"I was just thinking about something important, that's all."
Kondo smirked and sat, crossing his legs. This was a usual game they played, wherein just by his presence, Okita inevitably gave up whatever was on his mind. That is unless Kondo was cross with him- that was a completely different energy.
After a few sickening seconds of silence, Okita lost.
"Have you ever... done something foolish?"
The lack of response made Okita realize how poorly he worded that. Even with his back to him, he could feel one of Kondo's eyebrows raise.
"I mean-- shit." Okita fiddled with the razor in his hands.
"Like, maybe something happened between you and a friend. It happened, and you're not sure how to feel about it... maybe you were drunk, and things went a little too far. Has something like that ever happened to you?"
Kondo was silent for a bit. Already afraid he said too much, Okita tried to keep shaving as if nothing were wrong. Even though his face had long become dry, the only moisture being the sweat from his brow.
"Perhaps," Kondo said. "Though it depends on what all was said or done."
Okita dipped the razor again.
"Did you and the foreigner have some kind of fight?"
Okita felt a jolt run through his body like an arrow had pierced his shoulder. God-damned Kondo could read him so well it was exhausting. So much that Okita didn't even realize he'd cut his face. He winced and pressed his hand to the wound, which although small, seemed to soak his whole palm. And stung like hell.
Water with red had mixed onto the blade, like so many times before. Only this time somehow, he felt as if he couldn't laugh it off. Something was lodged in his chest and left his head in pieces, not even able to muster a smile. To hell if he couldn't try, though.
"Souji?"
He didn't respond, instead dipping his whole hand in the water and flicking it dry.
"It's fine. It was nothing like that."
Without a word, Okita emptied the bucket of tainted water, pulled up his kimono, and retreated inside.
Still, despite doing his best not to look, he caught sight of Kondo with a furrowed brow.
"Souji, whatever happened--"
"It's alright." he turned back towards him with a grin, the empty bucket and shaving tools under his shoulder. "I'll work it out, somehow... Everything will be fine."
And as Okita smiled, the cheek he'd cut was hidden in shadow, dripping blood onto the old wood.