However Far Away|chapter 001;
by woochann
A Okita/Chizuru fanfiction. This story may seem to be pretty OOC (at least for Okita), but I wanted to really asses what it would be like to really not be able to go anywhere or to be able to do anything you were actually good at. This story may be a bit darker than my others may, because I have the idea that Chizuru has become determined to be by Okita even if he was to pull her to her doom. This story may not make sense too much with the plot or idea of the Shinsengumi or in-fact, Hakuouki itself, but I ask that you give this fanfiction a chance. Okita may be a bit more serious now, and less jubilant and joking, but it has its place in future chapters.

This fanfiction is to be about the lives of two broken people, lost and far from the fields of expertise, and how they must band together to find themselves again. For a man's greatest enemy: is himself.

It is in that moment of weakness when the true character of a man is to be determined.
This story is dedicated to that.

…

Some tea sloshed out of the cup with a light patter onto the tray beneath it.

Okita watched her pour the tea with perfection regardless of the small spill. It was another day of sitting here wasting his days away in this room. By some miracle, he was recovering. It would be a slow and tedious process, he was told, but he was recovering nonetheless. When this news was told to him, Chizuru was in the room, doing the same task she was doing now. He smiled slightly when he heard her drop the cup she was holding. She was more willing to celebrate than he was. Certainly, he should have been filled with joy at such a time, but he did not have the heart to rejoice. He had been in this room for so long; any good news was just as grave as the bad. This strong sense of confinement, of listlessness caused his eyes to become so use to the dark that he rarely had any use for the light. He feared if he stayed in this room any longer: he would lose the will to even want to escape.

However, she gave him a small taste of the outside. Of the freedom, he longed for. His spirits always would rise when she began to tell him minuscule things; such as how many leaves she had to sweep. As well as how many times she had to reprimand Heisuke and Shinpachi. However, that was some months ago. Now the Shinsengumi was all but dead unfortunately, some in the literal sense. It seemed almost ironic, if he used the word correctly, that when he was told he was to recover, the Shinsengumi was slowly dying. It came as no surprise that when Saito and Hijikata came to inform him of political and work related news, that he was told it might be time to move on. He laughed cynically at that. What was he suppose to do then? He had no gifts in other trades; he was no skilled crafter, or delicate sewer. He did not write with the eloquence to make a trade out of it, and did not find it appealing to take up employment as a shopkeeper, or work for someone else. Regardless of his station, he could command his own troops, and decide his own course of action. If he were to give this up, what then would he do? It came as no surprise, yes, but it did not make the news any more bearable.

In a lesser sense, he wondered if they had told Chizuru as well that come fall he was to be leaving for a different field of work. He hoped, one where his swordsmanship was still to be needed. As he watched her pour his tea and give him his breakfast, something she decided she would do from now on, he knew that she had already known from the start. She was smarter than people gave her credit for and was not blind to the secret looks each Shinsengumi member gave the other; looks that said, 'what will become of us?', 'who will stay to lead us?' Hijikata was adamant about letting Chizuru choose where she wished to go. She would be given the option to stay with what was left of the Shinsengumi that Saito and Hijikata would lead, or find use somewhere else. Okita knew she would choose to stay. She always did; he knew her well enough that she always would. It was strange to Okita to wonder about his future when before he was told he would have no future.

"Okita you must eat so your food does not get cold." Chizuru smiled at him and watched him take his chopsticks to start his meal. He laughed to himself when a sudden thought that he would no longer have Chizuru's tea bothered him. He felt like an old man, dependent on others. He furrowed his brows at this; he was to be dependent on no man. Swordsmen may be a dying breed, but he was going to consider himself one until the day he died. His eyebrows sank deeper into a 'v'. It seemed strange that Hijikata and Saito felt it was time for him to depart from the Shinsengumi. Should he not make that decision himself?

'We do not want to see your health deteriorate by suddenly going back to vigorous activity. You may be recovering, but it will be a long time before you may wield the sword efficiently.'

He did not expect that blow. He had been dismissed without actually being dismissed; it was a low blow indeed. However, he would do the same if he were placed in the same position. There was to be no compassion in battle, and no need for people who could not efficiently and effortlessly eliminate the foes of the Shinsengumi. There was to be no salvation for Okita in this venture. His days as a Shinsengumi member were over.

The sudden feeling of warmth caused him to look up to see Chizuru smiling at him. "Okita looked like he was getting cold." He felt ashamed. Ashamed that he enjoyed taking Chizuru's time away from the other members, and how she reacted to his cruel jokes. He was ashamed that in this moment; the simple act of warming him with a blanket was enough to put his mind at ease. Where had the man with steadfast determination, and hardened resolve go? He felt weak, and it disgusted him. He squeezed the teacup in his hand so tight that it broke. He did not flinch when the cup tore into his flesh, or when Chizuru got up in a panic to clean up the mess and his hand, he surmised. Maybe it was time he left this place. This place was becoming more and more like a cage to Okita than open land. He briefly heard the faint sound of Chizuru slamming open the door to grab some bandages. The sun began to pour into his room and his blank face turned into a face of restlessness. He was sick of looking at the sun from the inside of a room. He was sick of only getting to go outside every so often; when he was "well" enough. He hated to think it, but he was sick of seeing the same people's faces repeatedly; telling him things, he already knew.

Okita was no pet; he was no bird to be locked away and left to beat its wings on a cage until it was broken and sore. He was a wolf, who needed the thrill of the hunt, the ecstasy of the kill, and the fresh air that made him glad he was not locked to the chains of society. As Chizuru ran back in, it scared him that when he looked at her face: he saw the same thing reflected back at him through large brown eyes. She had known it from the start. She had known that this confinement would be his downfall, and it scared him that he saw her fear. This fear was not one of whimpering in the face of danger, it was the fear that he would lose himself down the very road he diligently trotted on. He knew then that she had no thoughts of staying. He opened his palm to her when she persisted in caring for him.

She had the eyes of a woman who was going to go with him; even if it meant uncertainty. That look: had become the fear Okita had hoped she would not give to him, because he knew she was too stubborn to see she had become so entangled with him that she had no means of escape. She was digging her own grave, and placing her faith in a man who couldn't stand to look at what he had become. Yet, as he blankly watched her wrap the last bandages around his hand, he couldn't stop himself from pleading with her to stay here. He removed his hand and to finish it himself. Anyone would have taken that to be a sign he would do it himself, but to two broken people it was a sign that he did not want her to fix his problems, or worry over him.

No matter how much he wished it would not come: it did.

She took his hand back; determined to finish what she had started.

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Your comments are appreciated, and I hope that you will trust me on this story. I am determined to give Okita/Chizuru fans my take on a broken Okita, and a wandering Chizuru who does not know where to go.

woochann