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: Once again, thank you very much to all reviewers. Devil, well 
there's not much suffering in this chapter and thanks for the 
compliments. Susan, I was smarter this time to write at least 3/4 of the story 
before deciding to post. As a fellow reader/writer I understand the 
frustration of waiting too. Midori, Saitou will never admit that!! At least I 
don't think he will anyway, can't be seen as a softie. ^_~ Kamorgana, 
the political plot is at an end I'm afraid. But I mentioned Itou and 
Takeda also to provide an atmosphere of suspicion and intrigue, which is 
the kind of environment they lived in back then. 

Also, I have a question. There's only one more chapter to go before the 
story ends. However, I would like to know if anybody wants me to cover 
Okita's death in this story? In that case, the angst level will RISE. 
But if not, then I will leave the ending as it is. Do leave me your 
opinions in your reviews. Thank you.

(The following short poem was quoted from memory and the poet will 
remain unfortunately anonymous since I could not track him down through 
search engines. However, this poem is NOT mine and I take NO credit for 
it.)



V. What You Want

You cannot lose what you've never had
So much for that abrasive gem
I can lose what I want
I want you


Okita nodded politely as a gaudily made-up woman refilled his sake cup. 
He didn't resist when she snuggled up to him, pressing the curves of 
her body against his in blatant invitation. She smelled nice and her soft 
warmth vaguely appealed to him in his inebriated state. 

"You're too quiet," she whispered in his ear, brushing her lips ever so 
lightly against his sensitive lobe. "I almost didn't see you hiding in 
the corner the whole evening."

"I'm not hiding," Okita lied. Misery began seeping through the fuzzy 
shroud that the alcohol cocooned around him and quickly Okita downed the 
entire cup. Giggling, the prostitute handed him the entire bottle and 
when she was done, he had consumed almost three-quarters of the sake. 

From across the room, Harada was contemplating the wisdom of bringing 
Okita to this brothel. It was one of the better ones in the seedy but 
exciting red-light district and the young man had been looking more 
miserable today than he had in the past two weeks ever since Saitou had 
returned only to steadfastly ignore him. So, deciding that Okita needed 
some cheering up, Harada, along with Inoue and Tani, had dragged him along 
with them for an evening of merry-making. But like a shy wallflower out 
of its element, Okita had not joined in their carousing, choosing to 
sit by himself until Yukiyo, one of the newer girls, had latched onto 
him. Even without payment, Harada could see that she was bent on seducing 
Okita. He only hoped that his friend had not already drunk himself into 
oblivion and wake up the next morning beside the woman with bitter 
regrets and hazy memories of the previous night. 

When she started nuzzling him, Okita had practically jumped and tried 
to scoot away but she held him firmly in place. Expert hands slid their 
way beneath his clothes; his skin felt hot, his pulse sounded in his 
ears. She laughed at his reaction and kissed him softly on the cheek, not 
daring to go for his mouth at the moment. Glazed honey brown eyes 
looked into hers and in them she could see confusion, despair, hesitation. A 
little longer and this beautiful boy would be hers for a while. 

It was hard to refuse this woman. 'And why should I?' His life had been 
complete hell for the past fourteen days, why should he turn down a few 
hours of solace and comfort? Since he could not have what he wanted 
...and what he wanted was a cold heartless man who did not think twice 
about ending their friendship without any explanation. Saitou Hajime was a 
bastard, and a selfish cowardly one at that. In his more sober moments, 
Okita would not have entertained such thoughts, or even the formation 
of such thoughts. But the sake and the woman were working their 
individual dark magic and in moments like these, all the frustrated desire and 
longing in him came rushing out.

"Come upstairs with me," she murmured, taking his hand and leading him 
out of the room. Okita saw Harada shoot him a worried look but he was 
determined to ignore it. However, halfway up the stairs, some portion of 
common sense returned to him and he stopped. Okita was not reckless by 
nature and a lifetime of careful consideration before he took a course 
of action had conditioned him too thoroughly to allow him to go ahead 
with what he knew deep down inside to be a mistake. Yukiyo looked down 
quizzically at him and impulsively, he pulled her down and kissed her 
full on the mouth. Her response was lightning quick; lips parted and she 
tasted of wine and velveteen pleasures. 

But nothing that he really wanted. He released her with a gentle 
apology and left before she could draw him back. Regret sobered him up like a 
dash of cold water and Okita knew that no matter how terrible he felt, 
he would never come back to this place. There was nothing here for him. 

"Okita!"

"Harada-san." Okita had no idea who looked more relieved, Harada or 
himself.

"I thought you were...err...going to go upstairs with the woman." 
Harada didn't think he was stupid, in spite of the occasional subtle 
scathing remark that Saitou tossed his way. But even he had to admit that what 
he just said sounded plain idiotic. Embarrassed, he scratched his thick 
brown hair. 'Well, what the heck else could you say? "Oh no Okita, I 
think it's a mistake for you to sleep with a pretty woman?" As if...'

"I was about to, but I thought the better of it. Thank you anyway." 
Okita smiled a bit and some of the old shine returned to his eyes. No 
matter how miserable he felt, it was always good to know that he had a 
genuine friend in Harada. The Tenth Captain might be loud, raucous and 
hot-tempered but he was honourable and absolutely trustworthy. And there 
was no need to walk on eggshells with this man; he was bluntly honest and 
expected the same treatment from his friends as well. 

"You want to go now?"

"I do but you don't. Stay. I can go back by myself. And don't worry 
about me," he added, cutting off Harada's protest. "I'm completely well 
now." 

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

Stifling a yawn, Okita nodded at the men who greeted him and continued 
on to his room. The warm glow of the sake had faded, leaving him 
light-headed and drained and he wanted nothing more than to curl up on his 
futon and sleep the rest of the night away. Come morning he would have to 
face Saitou once more since he still worked with him on the 
investigations team but this time, Okita was determined that things would be 
different. If Saitou did not want to be friends, he would not beg. There was 
never any point in begging Saitou Hajime for anything at any rate and 
besides, Okita had his own pride and self worth to consider. 

So it was quite a horrible shock to run into Saitou outside the 
sanctuary of his room. At once Okita was all too aware of the way he smelt--of 
wine, women and smoke, the way he felt--guilty and then irritation at 
the guilt, and the razor-edged smirk of Saitou's mouth and the none too 
pleasant gleam in the latter's eyes. And then he noticed something else 
as well.

"You've been drinking," he commented, knowing that it was probably a 
mistake to strike up any form of conversation with Saitou. Every instinct 
in him warned that he should ignore the older man but as always, where 
Saitou was concerned, Okita's feelings got the better of him. 

"So have you. Back so soon from the whorehouses?"

Okita flushed. "Careful Saitou. That sounds too much like an 
accusation. Someone might think you are jealous." 

If Saitou's temper had been any measure for the weather to go by, the 
air around them would have been positively frigid. 

"But then again, it's silly to say that, I must apologise," he 
continued, deliberately mocking the other man while rubbing salt into wounds 
that he knew were there. He deserved to suffer a little, Okita thought. 
Still, there was a limit to the extent to which he could taunt Saitou 
and get away without having to draw swords. With that thought in mind, 
Okita decided to end the barbed exchange between them. Only he hadn't 
reckoned on the speed of Saitou's reaction. One hand snaked out, caught 
him by the edge of his collar and he was pulled forward. Acting on sheer 
instinct, Okita's hand went for his blade and then stilled, frozen in 
place. 

With his thumb, Saitou traced the corner of Okita's mouth, wiping away 
the faint imprint of lipstick left by the woman. Removing it didn't 
ease the stinging pain he felt, it was only an excuse to touch the boy. 
"Next time, look in the mirror before you leave. It's less embarrassing," 
he said softly. 

"Hajime..." 

As suddenly as he had seized him, Saitou let go of Okita, pushing him 
away. 'Too close,' he thought, turning his eyes from the bewildered 
young man. Sake always loosened his restraints, sharpened his more primal 
instincts. One side of him was practically screaming that he take Okita 
and drag him back to his room. The other side, colder and logically 
precise, was telling him not to be a fool, to walk away while he could. 

"Just give me an explanation. At least let me know why you can't even 
tolerate being just friends," Okita asked quietly from behind him. "I 
deserve that much." 

"I once told you that you were incredibly naïve. You still are," Saitou 
said harshly. "You have no idea what you want."

Until that moment, Okita had not realised fully the kind of hold that 
Saitou held over him. An enchantment almost, a deep desire that he could 
not throw aside anymore than he could desert all that he was. Perhaps 
with the passing of long years this affection, this obsession would fade 
but now for the moment, he was like a wild creature ensnared in a net 
of fascination for the very hunter who had caught it. If Saitou Hajime 
in all his dark and dangerous allure would destroy him, then Okita would 
not resist. He was helpless because he could not and would not help 
himself. 

"I think, perhaps you do not know what you want. I know what I want. I 
want you." He could hardly breathe when he said that. He couldn't even 
see Saitou's reaction. All Okita knew was that he at least had to tell 
all that was within him. He had done his part. The confession was 
painful and had cost him much. For the first time in his life he laid down 
his defences completely and waited, for what, he didn't know. But the 
answer came swiftly.

There was no gentleness in the kiss, for it was both punishment and 
angry surrender. Saitou slanted his mouth brutally over Okita's, 
deliberately bruising his lips, hurting him. But instead of resisting, Okita 
remained pliant in his arms, not so much as a whimper escaping him. When 
Saitou lifted his head, Okita's eyes were smarting with tears, his lips 
crimson red and tender from the violence of the kiss. "You..." It 
wasn't often that Saitou found himself at a loss for words but at the 
moment, he was. 

"I know what I want," Okita repeated, lifting a hand to touch Saitou's 
lips. Leaning up on his toes, he kissed Saitou, moulding himself 
tightly against the latter's lean body. Arms went around his waist; he was 
lifted off the ground and then carried into his room. What happened after 
that was like nothing that he had ever experienced before...