THE DOGS OF WAR
By Nokoru
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, but are the property of Watasuki Nobuhiro, Jump Comics, and any other respective owners I have not mentioned here. I give all credit to them and their inspirations. I am only writing this fan fiction for the amusement of myself and others. I do not wish to cause any harm to the owners’ original intent. Also, if any reader should feel that my interpretation of historical accounts shows any disrespect, please realize that this is a fiction piece. I do not mean any harm to any history, but I in fact adore it.
Author’s Note: This form should be more coherent. It’s all in first person from Okita’s point of view. It’ll be that way for the rest of the story too. ^^ Again, questions, comments, and even compliments are more than welcome. Flames and evil comments will be used to bait ungenki things so that I may bap them with my broom and sweep them away from nummy people. Please enjoy, because that’s why I wrote it. ^__^
Chapter 1
Murmurs, laughter, and footsteps echoed through my mind as I walked the streets of Kyoto with the Shinsengumi. As a part of them, I joined parts of the conversations and listened for the other parts. It was more than the similar clothes that tied me to this group in an unbreakable bond. It was my heart. I believed in the Shinsengumi, and the Shinsengumi believed in my morals. Such was the symbiotic relationship of the wolf and the pack.
A sound caught my ear as the murmuring noises faded away from me. Floating through my soul, I stopped walking and turned my face to the source of the song. It was a child’s voice; she was dressed in a soft golden kimono with occasional stains of crimson - like blood. She bounced a ball as blue as the night sky, and her song still captured my soul. Somewhere, my heart burst from the innocence and purity it felt, as I thought that somewhere in these child-eyes I had found comfort - I had found…
“Okaeri,” she spoke to me. Then she smiled like had always known my soul. It was the same smile I gave Hijikata-san or Saitou-san.
I smiled back, but before I could return a “Tadaima” to her, my shoulder moved as if someone had tapped on it. I turned to see Saitou-san staring at me. “We do have our matters before us, Okita-kun.”
I simply smiled and replied, “Yes.” Turning my feet back to the path, I glanced back for the girl. She had disappeared, like a ghost or a spirit. Shaking my head at myself, I continued on the road before me, more silent than I was before.
Proudly, the door to the inn stood in front of my path. Their wooden eyes and papered souls had seen enough on the sidelines of the battlefield. Yet, they knew it had not come to an end. So they stood proudly - proud that they have kept their eyes open for this long and planned to keep them open for longer than most humans dare to keep their malleable hearts awake to the world.
The doors kindly moved out of our way with Hijikata-san’s hand, partly respecting our roles in this war, and partly denying them. And we walked in, member after member until all the present Shinsengumi had filled the inn’s soul, impressing a mark on it forever.
Sitting down at the meeting, I could see Hijikata-san’s figure outlined and smoothed by crisp sunlight. I smiled even as discussion of the Ishin Shishi filled my ears. His eyes always looked like they carried the weight of the world - if you looked hard enough. I never thought that someone who used to give me such a hassle would guard me so closely. Well, that’s what I get for not thinking, I guess.
Then there was Saitou-san’s profile across from me. The light danced with the shadows on his face, enhancing the mysterious aura about his soul. Even a stranger could taste his ideals without so much as hearing a single word from his mouth. Seeing him like this - his head held high, eyes attentive and absorbing - reminds me of a wolf. I know it seems odd and not all that creative, but it truly fits him.
I can’t say the same noble things of myself. No, I could never be just as Hijikata-san could. My punishing hand would soften under the pressure of my sympathetic heart. Of course, I could be forceful enough to lead a squad of the Shinsengumi, but I could not imagine delivering justice impartially no matter to whom. To do so, one would truly need the strength to carry the entire world on their shoulders. Maybe that reason was why his eyes gazed out at us as they did. No, I could never be as just as Hijikata-san.
Nor could I ever be as imposing as Saitou-san. Granted, my uniform has scared most people, but that was my uniform. I believe that Saitou-san could stand in a carnival’s costume and still radiate his ideals with daunting accuracy. If his personality was that of a wolf, then by comparison, mine must be that of a tamed dog. Though I don’t think that thought ever bothered me, oddly.
I am the person who wears smiles, with an occasional misplaced joke here and there. It might not have comfort people, and maybe they were even irritated to an extent by it. But feeling something, even if it’s irritation, is better than feeling a constantly numb. Perhaps my voice has shattered the precious silence that surrounded a situation one too many times. Or perhaps only once is one time too many. In that case, I’ve made far too many infractions against silence, and I’ll continue to make them until I can no longer lift my voice to its hypnotic song.
I bear hands calloused by the weight and responsibility of a sword. Not very many people can say the same about themselves regarding the second half of that. Not everyone carries the responsibility of their sword. It’s a weight that I didn’t seem to mind all that much, and I still don’t. After all, everyone must endure the burdens created by the choices they make in their lives. To me, the load of responsibility doesn’t even begin to bring my soul down. And I will continue to carry my sword until my hands can no longer raise it to meet the challenges in front of me.
I am the person who hid secrets in his heart. At night, when it’s all I could do to breath, I waited for the release. Sometimes, the burning in my lungs lifted itself from my body, and I was relieved. Other times,… well, other times I felt that I should expect release from the hand of death itself. Yes, at night, when I couldn’t sleep because the thin blanket made my skin too hot for my tolerance and laying down would have forced me to succumb to the aches in my joints, I hid my secrets.
Some people would have wish for health; some people would have wish for death. I just wished. For what? Oh, for many, many things that might take the same miracles to grant them. I still wish. I wish that the people I loved wouldn’t suffer the things this war has brought them. I wish that something good would come from this war and rebuild the hearts of Kyoto. I wish that I wouldn’t cause people misery by my inevitable death. I wished for too many things, knowing that they might never come true. I still hope for far too many things. But sometimes, just hoping is enough.
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