Disclaimer: RK is not mine but Nobuhiro Watsuki's.

Summary: In an era where trust is hard to come by, Okita Souji and 
Saitou Hajime have a binding friendship. Against the backdrop of an 
unfolding war and the threat of an unknown assassin, two friends find 
themselves at the point where sometimes, being just friends is not nearly 
enough...

Warning: This is a story centring around Okita and Saitou. Yes, it will 
be yaoi-ish. No, I will not apologise for it. If it offends you, then 
please stop reading now. As for my characterisations of Saitou and 
Okita, there will be OOCness although I will do my best to make things 
believable. Also, I've meddled with history and made up events. This is 
fiction, neh?

Notes: Thanks to all who reviewed! Queen of Vegetasei, Midori and 
Susan, here is the new chapter and thanks for all your encouragement. 
Kamorgana, I always saw Okita as the one who balanced the relationship too. 
Mara, am glad that you like it. But I haven't seen any movies of the 
Shinsengumi! Firuze, thank you for reading in spite of your initial 
doubts. And MsJadey, yes, this will have angst in it. Tokio won't be in this 
story at all though and I won't be delving into Okita's past. As for 
sources, you can check out the website mibu no ookami (just type into any 
search engine and it should pop up) which is not just informative in 
itself but has lots of links to other Shinsengumi sites as well. Have 
fun!


III. Elemental/Crush

(Seven months later)

While contemplating the chess pieces and his next move, Saitou stole a 
look at the young man sitting before him. Okita sat with his face 
resting in both hands, elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the board. He 
had probably worked out all the possible strategies that Saitou himself 
was considering and was coming up with moves to counter them. He looked 
more scholar than warrior, dressed as he was in a simple light blue gi 
and black hakama. It was Okita's day off and Saitou had an hour before 
his nightly patrol. He had intended to grab forty winks but when Okita 
had turned up with an invitation to complete their game and had waved a 
bottle of fragrant sake in his face, Saitou had not been able to 
resist. 

'Which one? The game? The sake? Or the boy?' A voice whispered in his 
ear and Saitou almost shook his head. He refused to contemplate that 
last option. It was simply not feasible. They were in the middle of a war 
and Okita was a member of the same group he was in, another Captain no 
less, possibly his only friend and the one man that Saitou found 
himself trusting completely. He was not blind to the chemistry between them, 
the melding of light and shadow, smiles and dark laughter, peace and 
violence that drew them to each other. They both brought a little of each 
element to the relationship. But as lovers...too much could go wrong 
and spoil their friendship, not to mention the kind of vicious gossip 
that would be circulated. Not that there was no gossip. Nobody dared to 
talk about it openly for fear of provoking his wrath, not to mention 
Kondou's and Hijikata's since Okita would be involved. But it was whispered 
among the men that Saitou and Okita were lovers. It certainly had not 
bothered him until recently when he discovered that his own feelings 
towards the younger man might not have been as controlled as he would like 
them to be. 

Saitou emptied his cup and automatically, Okita reached out to top it 
up again. They had worked their way through almost three bottles and 
Saitou knew that he would have to stop drinking soon. Already his face 
felt flushed and things around him looked brighter, sharper, the colours 
more intense. The crimson on Okita's pale cheek was like red silk fallen 
on snow. 

Damn it, he was fantasising about the boy again.

Sensing some kind of reaction from Saitou, Okita looked up but aside 
from looking a little foul of temper, something Okita put down to 
Saitou's thinking that he might really lose this game, nothing seemed to be 
wrong with him and so Okita went back to concentrating on the game. 

It had not been like this in the beginning. At first, he hadn't liked 
having someone watching over his shoulder and trying to find out just 
where his loyalties lay but as he had said before, there was no damage 
done since he had nothing to hide. Saitou had accepted such treatment as 
being the norm, especially given the times and environment that they 
were all living in. Besides, it had been amusing to see Okita struggle 
with the amount of work that he had loaded onto him. But Okita had taken 
everything without a single complaint, and the work that he turned in 
was impeccable. In spite of Saitou's cold treatment, he always had a 
ready smile that never wavered.

And then there was the fact that Saitou had known right from the start 
that the younger man had a crush on him. It had started out as a 
deliciously wicked game: keeping Okita close to him but always at a distance. 
He had enjoyed the attention, had known that a part of him was 
attracted to Okita as well even right from the start. But the game had now 
gotten out of hand. He had lost his advantage, the mastery over the other 
the moment he had made the mistake of not checking his own feelings.

Maybe it had been Okita's disarming honesty that had started all this. 
Or maybe it was the smile, bright and transparent like sunshine. Or 
that maybe in this pack of wolves Okita was his one source of 
companionable peace and quiet. The others were okay, some like Takeda Kanryuusai 
were slime, but none of them knew Saitou the way Okita did. Okita could 
defuse Saitou's temper with a statement or two. He also knew when to 
stay out of matters that did not concern him. Most of all, and perhaps 
worse of all, he had somehow gotten under Saitou's skin and that fact 
irritated the older man to no end. Saitou was used to being in perfect 
control of himself. But this attraction towards the younger man, unforeseen 
and then foolishly uncurbed until it was far too late disturbed him. 
And part of the reason why it affected him so much was because he knew 
without a doubt that Okita would respond to any advances that he made. It 
was a little like putting a poisoned plate of food in front of a 
starving man. Saitou blamed nobody but himself for the position he now found 
himself in. 

"Saitou-san? Are you alright? Is something wrong?" Gentle brown eyes 
peered up at him and suddenly the room seemed far too small for the both 
of them. Saitou sat back abruptly, pushing away from the table. 

"I'm fine. I should go." And so he did, snatching his nihontou up and 
practically fleeing from the room. The cold night air and the smell of 
danger would bring him back to his senses, would remind him of what was 
important, what was at stake here. No matter how tempting Souji was, 
nothing could come out of their relationship. Each day they went out to 
the streets, bringing death and risking it. Saitou knew where he stood 
in the ranks of fighters, among the very best. But he was not invincible 
and every clash with that shadow assassin known now as the Hittokiri 
Battousai made it clearer that one day, either he would kill that man or 
be killed by him. He had found his arch nemesis, the hated rival that 
one could respect. He had a cause he was completely committed to. There 
was nothing left of him to give to anything else. He would not be 
distracted. 

....... ....... ....... ......

It was all that he could do to control himself and not run after his 
friend. No matter how much Okita loved Saitou, he had his pride and he 
would never beg the other to return his feelings. Still, he almost did, 
especially since he knew very well that he was the reason why Saitou had 
fled the room.

"Hajime," the young man whispered, slender fingers caressing the chess 
piece that Saitou had last touched. Is this all he would ever get from 
the man? A restrained version of what they both really wanted? They 
spent almost every free hour they had together. True, sometimes Saitou 
would disappear off by himself or when there was a pressing emergency, 
they hardly saw one another. But those were completely understandable and 
Okita was not petty enough to hold a grudge against that. 

"I thought I saw Saitou leave the room in a hurry. What happened 
Okita-san?" 

If there was one voice in the world that gave Okita the chills, it was 
Takeda Kanryuusai's. There was something repellent in its oily 
smoothness. Snatching his hand back, Okita turned and looked coldly at the 
Fifth Captain. Unfortunately, Takeda was out of uniform and Okita knew that 
unless he found a way to leave the headquarters secretly, Takeda would 
be stuck on his trail like a leech. It was no secret that the latter 
had taken to pursuing him to the point of obviousness. Of course he did 
not dare to in front of Kondou and Hijikata; those two would skewer him 
on their blades. But in front of the others, especially in front of 
Saitou, Takeda would openly make advances on Okita until either Okita or 
one of the others, most often Harada, threatened him. But not once had 
Hajime ever told Takeda to back off. If he had, the others would have 
seen it as a confirmation of the rumours about them. 

"He has night duty in less than ten minutes. Of course he would be in a 
hurry." Suddenly missing the weight of his katana, which at the moment, 
was in his room, Okita rose to his feet and tried to leave only to find 
that Takeda had the gall to bar his way. "Get out of my way Takeda. And 
I don't think Saitou-san would enjoy hearing that you have been past 
the doorway of his private quarters." 

"Oh Okita, come off it. If he really cared for you at all he would not 
abide my pursuit of you, would he?" Takeda mocked although he did move 
out of the way. 

"You don't know him so don't make baseless comments."

"I don't know him, correct. But do you know him as well as you think 
you do?"

Okita did not want to give away any sign of a reaction, for that would 
be weakness. But he couldn't help the slight catch in his breath as he 
shouldered past Takeda who smiled, visibly enjoying Okita's agony. 
"Don't wait for him too long Souji. You'll waste less time if you come to 
your senses sooner." With that parting shot, he left, leaving Okita 
standing alone in the corridor. 

.... ....... ........ .........

He had to get out. Takeda's words had done their damage and it had been 
simply unbearable to stay in the headquarters any longer. Blindly Okita 
surged through the crowds, oblivious to angry comments and shouts from 
people he shoved aside. He wanted to go away, escape from the pain that 
had been inflicted upon him. He tried to tell himself that he was a 
fool to listen to Takeda. But the other man's words were all too similar 
to the kind of thoughts that he himself had been struggling with of 
late. In spite of his patience, his care never to pressure Saitou, Okita 
was starting to wonder whether his desire for a real relationship with 
his friend would always be just that, an unfulfilled wish and nothing 
more. 

Other men might have gone to the red-light district, where there were 
beautiful women and buckets of sake to drown one's self in. But Okita 
knew that he would never find solace that way. It was simply not in him 
to do that. So he wandered, walked and walked until the crowds thinned 
and people went back to their houses and to sleep and still he continued 
to walk under the cold stars into the cold night, unable to find rest 
in spite of the exhaustion that was beginning to set in. He didn't want 
to go back to the headquarters. For the first time, he didn't want to 
see Saitou either. 

And that was how they met, the First Captain of the Shinsengumi and the 
Hittokiri Battousai. 

Okita sensed even before he saw the other. A fierce aura wafting on the 
night wind, deep and burning, like the flare of a star as it explodes. 
He whirled, blade singing within the space of a second and clashed with 
the assassin who would have buried his sword deep into Okita's heart if 
he had reacted any later. Pale golden eyes pierced his and he knew that 
finally after all his long searches and waiting, this was the man he 
sought.

"Battousai." 

The streets echoed with a deep metallic ring as they broke apart. The 
first test of strength had proved them equal. Now the following battle 
would decide who was the better swordsman. 

"Okita Souji, First Captain."

They flew at each other with a speed that defied the eye. Blades 
gleamed in the dark, catching starlight as they parried and slashed, teeth 
bared and muscles straining as they fought with unmatched fury in the 
streets. Inside their houses, the residents quivered but nobody dared to 
open the windows for a peek. It could mean death to look upon such a 
fight. 

..... ...... ........ .........

"Wait." Saitou halted, as did his men. Lifting his face to the sky, he 
listened carefully, filtering through the layers of sound that echoed 
from the busy heart of the city to the lonely lanes where he and his men 
were currently walking. Beneath the noise of laughter, chatter, 
footsteps, there was also... 

"There's a fight three streets away. Sato, Takumi and Goku, you come 
with me. The rest of you continue on."

....... ....... ........ ..........

"Ryu Tsui Sen!" 

The stroke was falling too swiftly to be avoided. Bracing himself, 
Okita swung upwards with all his might, both hands on the hilt of his 
beloved Kikuichi Norimune in a death grip. The force of the assassin's 
strike was unbelievable and he actually went down on one knee as he thrust 
the man from him. Battousai snarled, sliding back on the stone pavement 
and before he could regain his footing, Okita lunged forward, executing 
his famous "three-point strike". The first and second blow missed by a 
hair's breadth. The third glanced off Battousai's face and a thin line 
of red began filling the shallow crossed scars. 

They paused for a moment, both breathing hard even as their clothes 
clung to them, soaked through with sweat and blood. Okita had taken one 
cut on his left arm. Battousai's ribs were possibly fractured but he 
looked far more shocked and pained as he touched the scars and felt the wet 
blood running from them. Okita observed all this and realised that 
there was a tale to that unique feature which marked out the man so clearly 
as the master assassin that he was. "It's only a scratch," he said 
softly, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction from the other. 

A kind of sadness passed over Battousai's face, along with it a memory 
of a woman that Okita would never know about. And after the sadness, 
there followed a cold resolution and Okita knew that Battousai intended 
to finish the fight with his next attack. To Okita's surprise, Battousai 
sheathed his sword, took one step forward with his right foot, his 
right hand hovering over the sword hilt. "Battoujutsu," Okita said aloud as 
he too assumed the same stance. "Fitting for a master of drawing the 
blade."

"Too much time has been spent on this fight. It will be quicker with a 
single stroke. And less painful."

"Was that meant to console me or yourself?"

To Okita's surprise, the coldness on the other's face lessened by a 
degree. "Perhaps both of us."

There were a great many layers to the man before him and deep depths 
into which he had had only a shallow glance. If they were not at war, 
Okita would have liked to invite the man before him to tea or for a meal. 
They might have been friends. However, dwelling on possibilities that 
were now impossibilities was a waste of time. 

They stood there, out of time, completely focused on each other. 
Waiting. Waiting.

And at that moment just over Battousai's shoulder, Okita saw Saitou 
appear at the end of the street. His eyes widened. The stalemate broke and 
then there was nothing to do but to meet the shadow assassin's 
onslaught. 

Blades slid from sheaths, cut through the air with a speed that 
generated a wind of its own. Metal lanced through cloth and flesh. And Okita 
collapsed as dazzling white pain exploded before his eyes and his body 
gave way. 

..... ...... ...... ...... ........

Even before Okita hit the ground, Saitou and his men were already 
charging forward. Battousai turned around, saw the fallen figure and the 
blood that was rushing from its body. Okita Souji would not live to see 
the morning. Besides he too was injured and extremely spent from the 
battle. There was no point in staying. Deftly, he sprinted down the street, 
took a flying leap that brought him up to the rooftop of a house and 
from there made his escape. In his wake, a letter fluttered on the wind 
and spiralled down to the streets below.

........ ......... ......... .......

"Damn it Souji," Saitou breathed as he gently turned over his friend. 
Okita's face was completely white and there was a great bloody gash 
across his chest. The blood would not stop flowing. "Goku, Takumi, go after 
the assassin! Sato, get back to headquarters and have the doctor ready. 
Go!" Wrenching off his haori, Saitou tore it into strips and staunched 
the wound as best as he could. Then, he carefully lifted Okita into his 
arms. It was a miracle that he had not been instantly killed.

"Hajime?"

"Keep quiet. I'm taking you back. The doctor will attend to you."

"It's not your fault. I got distracted." 

"Stop speaking like that!" Saitou snapped. "You're not going to die." 

Okita tried to say more but darkness clouded his vision. His eyes 
rolled back up. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard Saitou's furious 
curse, followed by something that sounded very much like a plea. As 
much as he wanted to respond, Okita could not. All he could do was hope 
that Saitou was right, that he would not die.