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Chapter Text

The flickering lights of dozens of carefully placed paper lanterns washed over the stage at Nichibuza, bathing it in a warm glow. It reflected off the back wall, lighting up the beautifully painted tree stretching up the wood.

The voices in the room slowly died down into whispers as Ryoma walked onto the stage and knelt down. He placed a closed fan on the floor neatly in front of him and then bowed deeply before the crowd.

He had not been performing there long, but word had quickly spread of the Dancing Samurai. More and more people had begun to show each night he performed, all clamouring to see the Third Division Captain of the Shinsengumi dance.

He could feel all their eyes on him.

The first time he had done this, Ryoma had been full of nerves. Now he embraced the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the sake warm in his belly certainly didn’t hurt. Just enough to quiet his nerves, loosen him up.

An immediate hush fell over the room as the music began with a few plucks of the stringed instrument.  

With it, Ryoma rose to his feet slowly, his fan gripped in his hand.

His eyes scanned over the sea of onlookers, most of whom were seated before the stage, as he began to sway with the music. He was honoured to see so many new faces, but there was only one he sought out…

Okita Soji.

The First Division Captain was in the back casually leaning against the wall with an air of boredom about him. He had chosen to ditch his bloodied haori in favour of his casual clothing. It let him blend into the crowd, but Ryoma spotted him immediately.

Ryoma lifted his fan, pointing it at his fellow captain before he snapped it open with a flick of his wrist. To the crowd, it was just a part of his performance, but even from where he stood, he could see the smirk on Okita’s lips.

He began to move, his fan fluttering to the side.

To anyone else, Okita may have looked bored or disinterested, but Ryoma could feel the man’s eye boring into him, drinking in his every move.

It sent a thrill through him.

He began to sway his hips, moving his fan in precise, well-practiced movements. It was a dance not dissimilar to his own swordplay and he was revelling in the attention he got from his fellow captain.

A room full of people and he was dancing for one man.

Ryoma let the music take him. His feet drifted over the polished floor as he moved, letting his body tell a tale of a fighter’s passion. It was his favourite song to perform there. Each movement he made, was made with purpose, following along to the music.

He had always been one to appreciate the arts, and buyo was no exception. He enjoyed the dance, his movements reflecting those he would make with a blade. Everyone in the room fell away as he gave himself over to it.

Well…

Almost everyone.

His eyes were on Okita as he arched the fan over his head before slashing it through the air in a smooth movement, then fluttered it back to his side. All the while his hips continued to sway.

It was an odd thing, this strange connection he felt to Okita. There was an undeniable magnetism between them despite their rocky start. Okita’s cockiness had immediately grated on Ryoma’s nerves. Ryoma could still remember one of the first things he’d said to him…

“You don’t look like the rumours describe?”

“Haw?”

“People have been saying you’re handsome.”

Ryoma smirked as he recalled the look on Okita’s face, and he hid it quickly behind his fan. The comment had caused Okita’s smug grin to fall away as his jaw had dropped. He had stood there looking like he couldn’t believe Ryoma had dared to say that to him.

It had only been half the truth then. Now, with the warm lighting brushing over his skin, Ryoma could admit Okita might not have been what he was expecting, but he was handsome.

Not that he would ever admit that out loud, especially not to the man himself.

Right now, that single eye on him only emboldened him. His hips swayed a bit faster, his movements becoming more complex as he moved with the music, the fan fluttering around him. And Okita tracked every movement he made, his eye wide and glittering in the light of the paper lanterns.

Ryoma knew he shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts. They were captains of equal rank. Not only was it frowned upon, the Shinsengumi outright forbid it. Not that it mattered. That was a flimsy excuse at best. It wouldn’t have been the first time Ryoma would have had to sneak around.

Besides, the other captains weren’t being so quiet about it either.

Even so, Ryoma was there for a reason, and it wasn’t to get involved in whatever was going on between him and Okita. He had only joined the Shinsengumi to find his foster father’s killer, and there he was enjoying the attention he was getting from one of them. One he couldn’t rule out…

Yet.

He shook the thoughts off with a slow spin, the fan fluttering in front of his face as he met Okita’s gaze again. The heated look he got in return sent his thoughts scattering as a shiver raced down his spine.

There was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the attention in the meantime, right?

Ryoma cut another arch through the air with his fan, letting it flutter back down this time as he walked in a circle. He swayed his hips a little more than was necessary, but he knew that gaze was eating him up and he couldn’t resist.

The dance was about passion and fighting after all.

Even though it had been interrupted, Ryoma could still recall their fight. He hadn’t expected Okita’s strength. He had felt it in his arms when their swords had clashed. He’d barely had enough time to pull his own katana out to block the attack that left his arms trembling under the weight of holding Okita off.

            “Ooooh, you are good.”

Okita had cooed those words to him after, and he knew he should have been insulted, not practically preening at the backhanded compliment. The excited look in Okita’s single eye checking him out after certainly hadn’t helped.

Another shiver shot down his spine, and Ryoma did his best to ignore it and the heat that stirred in him even now. He tried to blame the warmth of the room for the fire burning inside him, but Okita’s gaze on him now was only fanning those flames.

Goosebumps rose in the wake of sweat that rolled down his chest and he had to shake the memory off again, trying to reign in his thoughts least he embarrassed himself further.

The dance ended with Ryoma on his knees once again, bowing to the crowd. His chest was heaving, heart pounding, and his skin glistening with sweat as he finally came to a rest. He wished he could blame it all on the physical exertion and not the gaze of a certain samurai.

The room erupted in cheers as soon as the music had come to a stop, and when Ryoma looked up again, he found Okita grinning at him. Okita nodded his head at the door, a silent invitation before he disappeared outside.

Ryoma slowly rose back to his feet and stepped off stage. He moved through the crowd, saying his goodbyes distractedly as he gathered his weapons. Then he was slipping outside after Okita.

The cool night air was a welcoming balm against his heated skin, but he didn’t stop to dwell on it as he quickly found Okita lounging against the wall, waiting for him.

He was always waiting for him.

            “From the look of it, I think he’s takin’ a shining to ya.”

Ryoma hadn’t known how true Nagakura’s words had been at the time. How could he? He barely knew either of them, especially not Okita Soji. How could he have prepared himself for that whirlwind?

He knew he wasn’t alone in this feeling either. Okita wouldn’t leave him alone. He followed him everywhere. From the barracks to his favourite udon place and the Singing Bar. He had even found Okita resting at the top of the steps that lead down to the docks where Ryoma would catch a boat to his home away from Kyo.

The first time he had caught Okita watching him practice his dance at Nichibuza, he was sure the other captain was going to have something cocky to say. It took everything in him to keep dancing, not wanting to give Okita the satisfaction of flustering him.

But Okita never did question it.

After that, Okita was a regular. He would sit in the back or lounge against the wall. His eye always glued onto Ryoma, transfixed night after night.

Ryoma wasn’t sure when he started to enjoy the attention, but he found himself making eye contact with Okita more and more. He’d lock eyes with the man across the room as he swayed to the beat, dancing for him.

He liked being watched.

No.

He liked being watched by Okita.

They never talked about it. Not once had Okita mentioned his dancing in conversation which Ryoma found odd. For all the habits Okita liked picking on him for, this wasn’t one of them. He seemed to enjoy it too.

At first, Ryoma believed Okita was just suspicious of him and took to following him to see what he got up to. He was sure that was how it had all started anyway. But he got the impression that Okita was bored, and Ryoma was just a shiny new interest. It left him wondering, how long before Okita grew bored of him too?

Ryoma didn’t like that thought.

If he was at all honest with himself, he didn’t mind the company. It hampered his search, sure, but there was something alluring about the bloodied samurai, something that had him seeking him out too.

Ryoma couldn’t shake him if he tried.

“Ya must’ve worked up a hunger,” Okita spoke, interrupting Ryoma’s thoughts. He pushed himself away from the wall as Ryoma approached. He could have sworn there was heat in his gaze with the way his eye swept over Ryoma.

“You could say that,” Ryoma replied.

Okita grinned wolfishly. “Great, the meals on you then!”

Ryoma snorted at that. “I think you owe me, being your free entertainment and all.”

That got a cackled out of Okita. “Are ya gonna give me a private show then, Hajime-chan?”

“Are you making fun of me?” A smirk tugged at Ryoma’s lips.

“With a few less clothes.”

“You are making fun of me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! Yer a true dancin’ swordsman!” Okita grinned when Ryoma chuckled. He threw his arm around Ryoma’s shoulders as he led him away from Nichibuza. “What’re we havin’ then?”

You.

“It’s not food I am craving right now,” Ryoma started instead, earning himself a questioning glance from Okita. No, what he was craving was more along the lines of shoving Okita up against the nearest surface and—

Nope.

Ryoma cleared his throat. He needed to get his head on straight. He wasn’t one to ignore the pleasures in life, but this? Had he really neglected himself for too long? Long enough to crave the attention of the first man to look at him?

He shook his head as if it would clear his thoughts and smirked at Okita’s questioning look. “I wouldn’t say no to drinks, though.”

Okita squinted at him like he was trying to get a read on him. When it appeared he didn’t find whatever it was he was looking for, he shrugged it off with a bright grin. “Drinks it is!”

And with that, he was practically dragging Ryoma off down the street.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day, which was an understatement, really.

The sun was just beginning to sink on the horizon and shadows were starting to stretch themselves across the ground when Ryoma approached the gate to the barracks. He nodded to the guards in greeting as he passed, heading in with his squad following close on his heels.

They had spent the better part of the day clearing out more caves and confiscating stolen goods from bandits. Now all Ryoma wanted to do was to have a hot bath and a good meal. He could practically feel the hot water soothing the aches of a hard day’s work.

With that thought in mind, Ryoma picked up his pace with renewed vigour.

Stopping before the mission assistant, Sekino Mantaro, he turned to face his squad. He instructed them to carry the goods to the warehouse before dismissing them for the evening and then gave his report on the mission directly to his assistant.

With that done, he turned and headed back to the gate, ready to make a beeline for Teradaya Inn.

If someone had told Ryoma a year ago that he was going to be running missions as a captain of the Shinsengumi, he may have laughed. Who would have guessed his quest for answers would have led him here?

He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy task tracking down his father’s killer. It had already taken over a year to get this far, but he wasn’t about to give up now. He could be incredibly patient when he set his sights on something. In the meantime, he was more than willing to dutifully attend to his tasks as captain. It was a good opportunity to not only earn the trust of his fellow captains but do some good in the process. He would gladly clear out the bandit caves if it made the people of Kyo a little bit safer.

He also enjoyed helping the people of Kyo out whenever he had the chance. The Shinsengumi might have put a bad taste in many mouths, but Ryoma was not going to add to that if he could help it. He preferred to use his influence for good.

However, tonight, he had one thing on his mind. The bath was calling his name!

Ryoma was on his way out of the barracks when he felt a familiar arm snake around his shoulders and its owner fell into step beside him. He should have known he wouldn’t have gotten away unnoticed.

“Are you stalking me?” Ryoma remarked, but there was no heat behind his words. He glanced to his left, smirking as he found Okita grinning at him.

Okita feigned a gasp. “You wound me, Hajime-chan!”

Ryoma chuckled as they headed down the steps together.

“So, where we goin’?”

“We?” Ryoma asked, glancing over again with a smirk. “Well, I was going for a bath.”

“And ya weren’t gonna invite li’l ol’ me?” Okita clicked his tongue in mock disappointment.

“You bathe?” Ryoma couldn’t resist teasing him as he led them out of Mibu and onwards toward Fushimi. He still couldn’t tell if Okita was actually flirting or just screwing with him.

“Oi! I—”

“Hey!”

The two captains halted but made no move to separate from each other as eight ronin rushed in, surrounding them. Ryoma was kicking himself for not noticing it sooner. Had he really been that distracted?

He sighed heavily realizing his bath was getting further and further out of his grasp…

“What do ya limp dicks want? Can’t ya see we were talkin’ here?” Okita snapped. He was ever the picture of nonchalance, leaning against Ryoma like he was unbothered despite the sneer on his face.

“Shinsengumi scum!” one of the other men spat. “Who do you think you are?!”

Okita cackled. “Can’t decide if ya got balls or yer just real stupid.”

“Excuse me?!” another man spoke up, drawing his katana.

“Oi, Hajime-chan,” Okita started, his smile growing wolfish as he glanced over. His left hand wrapped around the saya of his katana. He pressed his thumb against the tsuba, prepping for the attack. “What do ya say, should we have a little fun?”

Something about Okita’s grin was infectious. Ryoma felt himself smirking in response even if he was still in mourning the delay of his bath. At least the surge of adrenaline helped him forget what he was missing out on.

He stepped away from Okita as he yanked his katana from its saya. “Let’s do this.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Okita pulled his own katana free without a moment’s hesitation and rushed forward with a shout.

Ryoma spun around just in time to block an attack from one of the men surrounding them, a large man wielding a katana. Their swords clashed, but Ryoma’s strength was no match for the ronin. He threw him off with ease and aimed a well-placed kick straight to his stomach. The large man flew backwards, tripping over his own feet and went down hard onto his back taking one of his companions, a snide looking man, with him.

There was no time to gloat though, or check on Okita, but he knew his fellow captain could hold his own. He could hear the sound of swords clashing behind him, and Okita’s obnoxious laughter telling Ryoma he was doing just fine.

Two more men charged Ryoma, a disgruntled looking ronin and one with a spear. The disgruntled ronin reached Ryoma first, forcing him to block another attack with a swipe of his katana. The shockwaves that sent up his arm near rattled his teeth, but he held him off with ease.

Despite the disgruntled ronin bearing down on Ryoma, he held him off as he yanked out his gun. At the last moment, he spun away, causing the man to stumbled forward. Taking advantage of the man’s imbalance, Ryoma kicked him hard in the back, sending him toppling over into the dirt.

Without losing his momentum, he spun and fired off two rounds into the spearmen’s leg. The man dropped to his knees and Ryoma was quick to dispatch him with a shot to his arm, knocking him out of the fight.

The snide looking man and his large companion were now back on their feet, and the disgruntled man quickly joined them in surrounding Ryoma.

Ryoma bounced on the balls of his feet, adrenaline surging through him. The aches and pains from his earlier battles were forgotten as he rushed at the disgruntled ronin, katana poised for the attack. However, before he could reach the disgruntled man, he was driven off course and forced to spin out of the way as the large man lunged at him, katana raised. He spun just out of reach and took aim at the large man’s arm, firing off three shots before lunging forward with a slash of his sword, cutting into the man’s stomach.

And just like that, only two remained.

Ryoma circled them slowly, his eyes darting between the two, waiting to see who would attack first. His blood was rushing in his ears, but it did nothing to drown out Okita’s cackling. The man was having far too much fun, and it was somehow rubbing off on Ryoma.

He was enjoying this fight.

The disgruntled man suddenly charged with a shout, his katana raised, but Ryoma merely side stepped, shooting him in the arm before following it up with a stab in the back that dropped him immediately.

Ryoma turned back in time to see the fearful look on the snide ronin. The man was shaking so bad he nearly dropped his sword as he tried to back up. Ryoma almost felt bad for what was coming next.

Almost.

He took aim and emptied two bullets into the man’s thigh before spinning himself close enough to deal the finishing blow with a slash to the man’s torso. He watched as the man fell to his knees and slumped onto his side.

Ryoma straightened up, shaking his limbs out. He turned to go help Okita when the breath was suddenly knocked from his lungs. Someone collided with Ryoma just then, sending him stumbling backwards. His back slammed up against a wall leaving him momentarily dazed before discovering he was pinned by Okita. He had just enough time to shoot him a confused look before he saw a spear land right where he had been standing mere seconds before.

If it hadn’t been for—

“Okita!” Ryoma shouted, throwing his gun arm around Okita’s waist without a second thought. He held the man close as he quickly spun away from the wall, changing their positions to narrowly avoid a tanto that embedded into the wood where they had just been standing.

Okita’s eye was wide, pupil blown with adrenaline as he met Ryoma’s gaze and Ryoma couldn’t peel his eyes away if he tried. Okita grinned maniacally, his eye darting past Ryoma before he gripped Ryoma’s hip and flipped them once more, pressing Ryoma back against the wall.

The owner of the tanto charged with a loud cry, but Okita was faster. He twirled his wakizashi in his hand, changing the position before slamming it back into their last remaining attacker, letting out a snarl as he twisted the blade.

The two of them remained still, trying to catch their breath as their eyes locked again. Their attacker dropped to his knees, unnoticed as he slipped off Okita’s blade and slumped at their feet, bleeding out.

Ryoma was fully aware of the hand still on his hip. His own arm was still around Okita’s waist, holding him close. He swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. They were pressed so close together he was sure Okita could feel his heart beating through his chest.

Okita’s gaze fell to Ryoma’s lips.

The world narrowed around them in that moment. Ryoma felt that draw again, that same strange magnetism he’d felt since their first fight, pulling them together. His eyes fell to Okita’s lips as Okita leaned in and—

“Soji! Saito-san? What is this?!”

The spell snapped as if a bucket of icy water was dumped over Ryoma’s head.

Okita flew back leaving Ryoma dazed at the loss and wondering if he was imagining what had almost just happened. Did they really just…?

Ryoma shook off the thought as he glanced over to see Inoue approaching. That explained why Okita pulled away so quickly. Anyone else would have been told to fuck off, but not Inoue. Okita had a lot of respect for him.

He pushed away from the wall, trying to ignore how his legs felt like jelly. He tucked his gun away before flicking the blood from his katana with a snap of his wrist. He sheathed it once again.

“Gen-san! What—” Okita started, but the words died on his tongue when Inoue glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Tch, they attacked us.”

Inoue looked at Ryoma then. His gaze felt piercing, and Ryoma had to resist the urge to squirm. After a long pause, he finally looked away with a shake of his head. “Well then, you better go fetch the police to deal with them,” he said, looking at Okita once again. “You can go, Saito-san.”

“What?” Ryoma couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened. Did Inoue catch them…? He glanced over at Okita who just shrugged, his mask of boredom back on his face. Ryoma’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like being dismissed, but Inoue was watching him again with a guarded look and he decided it was best not to push him.

“Well then… I will see you both tomorrow.”

He refused to let his disappointment show as he turned and headed back towards the Inn at a brisk pace. He felt their eyes on him until he rounded the corner and disappeared out of their sight.

                                                                        *****

The walk back to Teradaya Inn had done absolutely nothing to burn off the excess energy. His thoughts were racing. His blood was still pumping from the adrenaline, and he knew it wasn’t going to wear off any time soon.

The excess energy now burning through his veins left him feeling warm. Ryoma might not like starting fights unless it was necessary, but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy them. This, however, this was new. He never enjoyed them quite like this, though he suspected that had to do more with the company and less with the fight.

They had almost kissed…

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, heat blossoming in his core.   

He could blame it on the adrenaline, but he couldn’t get the fight out of his mind. The way Okita had been pressed up against him, his hand gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. The way he’d leaned in, lingering there far longer than they had needed to be. It wouldn’t be the first time Ryoma had felt something physical for another man. He’d had trysts before, but none of them as electric as this.

Ryoma picked up his pace, determined to make it back to the Inn before his thoughts got the better of him. He was sure he just needed to get it out of his system. That was it, get it out of his system and then he could get back to what he was there for with a clear head.

There was a pleasant warmth in his veins as he made his way up the stairs and into his room, stumbling in his haste. All he had wanted was a bath, but now he had more pressing concerns.

He quickly slid the door closed behind him with a heavy sigh. Now Ryoma was finally alone, and with no distractions from his thoughts, his mind was only on one thing. The arousal he had been fighting stirred again, and this time he didn’t try to stop it.

The heat in Ryoma’s gut only grew hotter as he kept recalling the details of the fight. He could still feel the warmth of Okita’s body pressed against his. They way they had moved together. There had been heat in Okita’s eyes too, he was sure of it, a thought that sent a wave of arousal down his spine making him shudder.

What would they have done if Inoue had not interrupted? He wondered if that kiss would have been as fierce as Okita fought, all tongue and teeth and intense passion. He wondered what Okita’s hands would feel like roaming over his body. He wondered how Okita’s body would respond to his own touch, hard muscles writhing under his fingertips.

Ryoma felt his cock stirring. His hands trembling lightly as he fumbled with the ties of his hakama, unceremoniously dumping his weapons onto the floor as he worked it open. He stumbled further into the room before he sank to his knees.

He’d pick them up later.

Desperation burned bight in him now as a shiver shot down his spine, straight to his cock. He was already half hard.

How had Okita gotten so under his skin in such a short time? He didn’t know what it was about the man that set his blood on fire, a spark between them that made him yearn for the touch of the other captain.

The ache between his thighs was growing as he fumbled to get his kimono out of the way, yanking it free of his hakama before letting his hand slip inside. An embarrassing sigh of relief slipped from his lips when he finally squeezed his growing hardness through his fundoshi.

Fuck.

Ryoma let out a shaky breath, his eyes falling shut as he palmed himself, hips rocking back against his hand, chasing after the delicious friction. He let out a low groan.

He thought back to the other day when he was on stage. He could still see the way Okita had looked at him as he had danced. The hunger in Okita’s eye, the same hunger he knew must have been reflected in his own. The rapt attention made Ryoma shudder with excitement.

Okita was always watching him. Some part of him wanted Okita to be watching him now, wanted him to see what he had done to him.

The thought sent a jolt of excitement right to his dick and he couldn’t take it anymore. He reached into his fundoshi taking himself in hand, far too impatient to do more than push his clothing out of the way in his haste to free his cock.

With a low groan, he to stroked himself from root to tip. It was too dry, but he had zero patience to dig around for his oil. Releasing his cock, he quickly spit into his hand, before taking himself in a firm grip once again, this time moaning as pumped himself a bit faster. His head fell forward as he shuddered with pleasure.

His cock throbbed in his hand as he thought back to their almost kiss and the way Okita had pressed closer, practically pinning Ryoma to that wall. It made his cock twitch, now hot and heavy in his hand. He wasn’t going to last long at this rate, far too pent up and on edge already. He could feel the tension already coiling inside him, the heat building.

He’d neglected himself for far too long…

Ryoma leaned forward onto his free hand, burying his face into his bicep to quiet his groans as he stroked himself. It was still far too dry, but the precum drooling out of the slit eased the friction and soon he was fucking into his own fist with ease, chasing after the growing pleasure.

He shuddered, letting out a breathy moan.

Ryoma bit his lip, picking up the pace as he chased after release. He was so sensitive, cock aching in his grip. His body tensed and he was unable to think of anything but the building pleasure. His breath hitched, feeling himself slip over that edge…

He was close, so close.

A gasp was torn from his lips as that tension snapped, waves of white-hot pleasure flooding through him. It was all he could do to muffle his moans into his arm as he spilled over his fingers, still stroking himself through it. His body was trembling.

Once he was spent, Ryoma slumped forward, resting his forehead against the tatami mat below. He struggled to reign himself in. He was still trembling, his mind filled with a pleasant warm haze.

He knew eventually he would need to move. He still needed to collect his things and he was once again acutely aware of how badly he needed a bath before he would be able to lie his head down for the night. How easily he had gotten distracted before.

Right now, though, he was content to sit there a moment longer as he slowly came down from the high of release.

Chapter Text

Sunlight slowly filtered into the room, creeping further across the floor as it got higher in the sky until it reached the man sleeping deeper in the room. Ryoma groaned as it shined across his face, dragging him out of slumber.

He stretched himself out like a cat in the warm light before rolling himself onto his side, hiding his face away from the offending brightness with every intention of going back to sleep. He yawned, settling back in.

“Hajime-san, I’m coming in.”

Ryoma groaned.

The door slid open as Oryo slipped into the room, carrying something over to the table. The smell of it had Ryoma lifting his head to investigate, squinting in the light. He’d foregone food in favour of a bath the night before and now his stomach made its disapproval known with a loud growl.

“I brought you something to eat. And a bento to take with you.”

She set they tray down on the small table as Ryoma finally dragged himself up into a sitting position, yawning and scrubbing his face as he tried to shake off sleep. “Thank you,” he mumbled, stifling a second yawn.

Oryo smiled at him, bowing. “Is there anything else I can get you, Hajime-san?”

He hummed in response, taking far too long for his tired mind to formulate words. “No, thank you, Oryo. I appreciate it.”

“Shall I have a bath and a meal ready for you when you return?” Oryo asked, walking back towards the door. She paused, turning to face him as she waited for his response.

Ryoma scratched the back of his head, yawning once again. He shook his head. “No, that is okay. I don’t think I’ll be back until late.” He smiled tiredly at her. His nights only seemed to be getting longer the more work he did for the Shinsengumi. If it wasn’t that, it was the time he spent entertaining Okita.

Not that he minded too much.

With another inward groan at the thought of the First Captain, Ryoma scrubbed his face. How was he supposed to face him today? He refused to feel any shame for what he had done the previous night, what Okita didn’t know, didn’t hurt him, but how was he supposed to face him knowing what he had done? More importantly, why did the thought of Okita watching still send warmth straight to Ryoma’s core?

No.

He did not have time for that. He quickly buried the thought away.

Oryo was still watching him curiously, but when he didn’t say more, she nodded. “Be safe, Hajime-san.” She smiled warmly. She bowed before slipping out of the room.

It took Ryoma an embarrassingly long time to pull himself together, dragging his feet as he ate and got ready for the day. He was finally feeling marginally more awake by the time he set off for the barracks.

*****

CRACK!

The sound of wooden swords crashing together echoed around the small training ground. The Squad Corporal of the Third Division was hard at work helping to train the new recruits, but that morning, Ryoma himself had decided to oversee the training.

He had fought many of the new recruits already, having met them in fights around Kyo, but now he wanted to test them. He wanted to know how they had improved since joining up and what they had learned under his Squad Corporal.

His current sparring partner was Matsushita. The man was a whole head shorter than Ryoma, but he wasn’t lacking in strength. He defended himself well, but his movements were clumsy and unrefined. While there were many self-taught samurai, many learned under one school or another or had techniques handed down through families. The self-taught men tended to stand out more. Their techniques less refined, their footwork non-existent. They would focus more on their sword than how their body moved with it.

Ryoma himself had gone to Edo to refine his own skills and was more than happy pick up further training around Kyo, training he now tried to impart on his Squad when he had the chance.

Matsushita shoved away from Ryoma, leaping backwards with the force of it. He started to slowly circle Ryoma, looking for any opening, but Ryoma didn’t drop his guard for a second. With growing impatience, the man rushed forward, and Ryoma spun out of the way, swinging out with the wooden katana in the process. The wood struck Matsushita across the back and sent him tumbling to the ground.

“Good, but you need to mind your footwork,” Ryoma said, straightening up and lowering the wooden sword. “You do not want to be losing balance in a real fight.” He walked over and held his hand out to help Matsushita up. “Who is next?”

“Oi, what’s this?”

Ryoma was just beginning to wonder when Okita would show up. He looked up to find Okita and Nagakura watching him as they approached the yard. The two must have just returned from patrols.

“Are ya takin’ volunteers, Hajime-chan?” Okita grinned, his hand going to his katana.

“Kyoudai, leave ‘im alone,” Nagakura said, rolling his eyes.

“No, no.” Okita waved Nagakura off, his attention fully on Ryoma. “Hajime-chan! I’m hurt, ya didn’t invite me to help train?” He pouted petulantly when Ryoma glanced back over at him.

Ryoma couldn’t help but smirk. “Do you really want the new recruits to see me knock you on your ass?”

A few of the recruits chuckled and Okita’s gaze whipped to them immediately, eye narrowing. The laughter died instantly. He didn’t comment, but the wolfish grin returned when his eye shifted back to Ryoma. “Ohh, you are on now.” He took a step forward.

Nagakura threw his hand out, stopping Okita from advancing. “Naw, don’t embarrass yerself.”

“Shinpa-chan! Yer no fun.”

Ryoma chuckled, though truth be told, he was a little disappointed. He was still owed a proper fight.

“We can watch if it’ll shutcha up,” Nagakura replied. “You could learn a thing or two about trainin’ yer own men.”

“Haw?!”

He smirked at Okita before turning back to his new recruits.

Nagakura led Okita over to the steps of the main temple where they sat down to watch the training. Okita lounged back, a look of boredom on his face once again, but Ryoma could feel that eye on him as he spared with another of his recruits.

The lesson managed to go on smoothly after that, with surprisingly little interruption from Okita. Ryoma finished up before leaving the recruits in the capable hands of his Squad Corporal. He crossed the yard, snatched up the furoshiki his bento was wrapped in, and sat down on the steps on Okita’s left. He set the bento in his lap and began to unwrap it.

Sitting on the Okita’s blind side forced him to turn away from Nagakura to look at Ryoma. Their shoulders brushed as Okita leaned over to inspect what Ryoma was doing, eyeing the food. “Are ya gonna share with the class?”

Ryoma chuckled and he held out the bento, offering it to Okita. “I suppose since you behaved.”

Okita’s eye lit up and he immediately snatched an onigiri. Ryoma fought down a smile and offered the other to Nagakura before sitting back and tearing into the salmon and rice.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay away from me?” Ryoma asked after swallowing a mouthful of salmon.

Okita huffed, munching on his onigiri. “Old man just likes riding my dick,” he scoffed.

Ryoma very nearly choked on his rice, earning a smirk from Okita as he was forced to clear his throat. “I certainly hope not.”

“Why, jealous?”

Nagakura snorted. “Soji…”

“Now yer on my ass too, Shinpa-chan?”

Ryoma just chuckled, not justifying that with an answer. Even if he was jealous, he certainly wasn’t admitting that to Okita. He took his time finishing off his bento in lieu of a response.

Okita leaned in close, their shoulders brushing again. His eye narrowed as that wolfish grin lit up his face again. “Admit it, you are attracted to me.”

Ryoma leaned in closer still, watching Okita’s gaze fall to his lips. He smirked. “Never.”

Okita’s jaw dropped open and Nagakura burst out laughing. Ryoma was grinning, pleased with himself, as he gathered up his furoshiki and pushed himself to his feet.  He took a few steps before glancing over his shoulder.

“Are you coming?”

Nagakura snorted as he met Okita’s gaze like they were sharing some silent communication Ryoma wasn’t privy too. Then the First Captain was scrambling to his feet and chasing after Ryoma.

*****

“What’re we doin’ here?”

“You’ll see.”

The two captains were getting all sorts of looks as Ryoma led Okita through Mukurogai. Luckily no one seemed bothered enough by their presence to try and start something. Ryoma had a feeling that had more to do with Okita’s reputation than his own good deeds.

“A fight in the arena?” Okita asked, obvious excitement in his voice, but Ryoma steered them away from the stairs and further into Mukurogai.

“Better.”

“What’s better‘n that?!”

Ryoma didn’t respond as he led him out onto the riverbank and down to Professor Shinbei. He finally came to a stop and turned to face Okita, crossing his arms. “Shall we have a little competition, Okita-san?”

“Haw?”

“See that cannon over there? Professor Shinbei will fire it at us. The goal is to destroy as many cannonballs as possible with your sword and not get yourself killed in the process,” Ryoma said. “Do you think you can handle that?”

Okita’s eye grew wide with obvious interest. “Now yer fuckin’ talkin’!”

“Shall we do two rounds each, the highest score wins?”

“Loser gets shoved into the river!” Okita replied, grinning madly.

That startles a laugh out of Ryoma. Okita must have had a lot of confidence in himself to risk accidentally washing his haori if he lost. Ryoma definitely wasn’t backing down from the challenge now. “I hope you know how to swim.”

Okita smiled wolfishly. “I’m goin’ first!” he announced before Ryoma had a chance to volunteer. “Let’s go professor!” He walked out onto the dock forcing Ryoma to hurriedly instruct him how to stand. Okita braced himself, hands resting on his katana as he prepared to strike.

A brief moment of concern crossed Ryoma’s mind, wondering how Okita was going to do with only the one eye, but that concern was dashed instantly when his fellow captain sliced through his first cannonball flawlessly.

Okita cackled loudly, obviously enjoying himself as he slid his katana back into its sheath.

Ryoma watched from the side as Okita braced himself for the next cannonball. His eye narrowed in concentration. The cannon fired and Okita struck out with ease, body twisting with the follow through of his strike. He cleaved the ball in two.

The next two cannonballs he took out with ease before missing the third and merely deflected the fourth with a loud curse that made Ryoma chuckle.

“Have you done this before?” Ryoma asked.

“Are ya mockin’ me, Hajime-chan?!” Okita replied. He smirked, but his eye never left the cannon. A gold confetti ball flew out and Okita sliced it in half with a quick slash of his katana and a triumphant “Ha!”.

Ryoma chuckled. “I meant it.”

He had to admit he found Okita’s competitive spirit rather endearing. It made him wondered what other things he could goad Okita into agreeing to. Buyo would be fun, but he immediately wrote that one off. There was no way Okita would have patience for the slowness of it if his dancing at the singing bar was any indicator. Not to mention his movements tended to lean on the more crude side.

No.

Buyo was out. But he was sure he would go with him to the chicken races. He could probably drag him to the Scarecrow Chateau as well. There was always the area, but that wasn’t how Ryoma wanted to fight him again.

The next three balls shot out in quick succession. Okita got them all with ease, but when a fourth popped out at a much slower pace, he merely deflected it having moved faster than he needed to with a frustrated growl.

By the end of his turn, Okita had destroyed 33, missed 2, and deflected 5 of the 40 cannon balls. He hadn’t done bad for his first round and now it was Ryoma’s turn.

Okita spun on his heel with a wicked grin. He sheathed his sword as he walked over to Ryoma’s side looking smug. “Let’s see whatcha got!”

“I hope you don’t mind, we’ll be washing your haori.” Ryoma smirked as he walked to the dock. He gripped his katana in both hands and waited, his eyes trained on the cannon.

Three cannonballs shot out and he effortlessly destroyed all three with ease. He could feel Okita’s gaze on him, it was electrifying. He bounced lightly on his feet, keeping himself relaxed as he waited for the next shot. It flew at him fast and he swung, cleaving the ball in two.

The next shot went high, and Ryoma fumbled it. He swung too low, nicking the bottom which sent it spiralling off course instead of splitting it in two. He let out an annoyed growl and doubled his efforts. In the end, he had managed to destroy a total of 35 balls, missing 1, and deflecting 4 of the 40 fired at him.

He whirled around, sheathing his sword in the process with a shit eating grin on his face as he approached Okita. “I hope you are ready to lose.”

Okita chuckled. “You showin’ off, Hajime-chan? This ain’t over yet.” He grinned back, brushing Ryoma’s shoulder as he walked by, heading back onto the dock. He fell quiet as he took his stance, a look of concentration on his face.

His second round went a lot better than the first with 37 destroyed, 1 missed, and 2 deflected. Ryoma may have been sweating a little at that point as he took his place on the dock. He just needed to remind himself, he had the advantage still.

The first ball shot out fast, curving away from Ryoma and he missed it with a grunt of frustration. He grit his teeth and shook himself out, trying to ignore Okita’s cackling in the background. He wasn’t about to let him win.

In the end, Ryoma managed to pull it off by the skin of his teeth with 36 destroyed, 1 missed, and 3 deflections. He won by a single point. He turned to gloat to find Okita staring at him, his jaw on the floor.

“No fuckin’ way! I want another round!” Okita was beyond bewildered, that competitive spirit in him refusing to accept that he had just lost. He marched up onto the dock. “One more round!”

“I win!” Ryoma grinned as Okita approached him. His fellow captain was glaring at him. “You agreed, two rounds. The one with the highest score wins and I destroyed 71 cannonballs.” He grinned smugly.

Okita growled. “By 1 point!”

“Still counts! And by your rules, I—”

“Yeah, yeah, get it over with!” Okita huffed. His eye narrowed as he glared.

Ryoma grinned and without a second thought he shoved Okita backwards. He wasn’t expecting Okita to smirk at the last minute, but he should have known the man wouldn’t go down without a fight. It was too late to change course now. Okita’s hands shot out, gripping onto Ryoma’s haori. He dragged Ryoma with him and together they splashed down into the shallow water below.

The icy water tore a gasp from Ryoma’s lips, his mind reeling as it tried to catch up with what had just happened. He had landed on top of Okita in the shallow water, and they shared a glance. Ryoma’s wide-eyed, shocked gaze locked with Okita’s smug one.

Okita threw his head back, howling with laughter. It shocked Ryoma back to his senses and he couldn’t help but join in with the laughter as he scrambled to push himself up, straddling Okita’s thighs.

“Bastard!” Ryoma growled, but there was no malice in his words. He was still grinning as he looked down at his waterlogged clothing. It hung heavy on his shoulders.

Okita cackled harder as pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking up at the man straddling him. “Hajime-chan, ya look good wet!” He grinned wolfishly.

Ryoma snickered. “Shut up!” He dunked Okita’s head back under water before climbing off him. It was rather unbecoming of the two captains, but Ryoma couldn’t help grinning back. As soon as he was back on his feet, he held his hand out for Okita, helping the laughing captain to his feet.

When Okita stood, Ryoma’s eyes were immediately drawn in, transfixed by the water droplets racing down Okita’s bare torso. He followed them down over Okita’s abs, swallowing back the desire to trace their paths with his tongue.

He shuddered and cleared his throat, looking back up to see Okita smirking at him.

“Get a good look, Hajime-chan?” he cooed.

Ryoma rolled his eyes and half-heartedly shoved Okita, trying to deflect from the fact he was just caught looking. “Now we’re both wet!”

Okita snorted. “C’mon, we better head back. You still owe me a bath!”

“I have half a mind to make you walk back alone!” Ryoma replied, but he laughed, following Okita anyway.

*****

The pair must have looked like quite the sight as they stumbled back through Kyo and into the barracks together, soaking wet with Okita hanging off Ryoma as if their clothing wasn’t heavy enough. Still, Ryoma didn’t complain. He could feel the slight tremor in Okita and wondered if the man was seeking warmth. Not that Okita would ever admit to it.

They had barely stepped foot back in the barracks when they were stopped.

“Soji, do you have nothing better to do than follow Saito-san around like a lost puppy?” Inoue chastised. His eyes swept over them questioningly. “What happened?”

“Haw?! Someone has to keep the new guy on his toes.” Okita grumbled. “Hajime-chan fell into the river, I had to save him.”

Ryoma snorted. “That’s not how I recall it!”

Okita flashed him a grin.

Inoue smirked. There was a look of fondness as he looked at Okita, but he quickly shook his head. “Alright, go get cleaned up before you catch your death in those clothes.” His gaze shifted to Ryoma then. “Saito-san, a word when you are done?”

Ryoma nodded at Inoue. “I shouldn’t be long.”

Okita finally peeled himself off Ryoma. “Later,” he said with a sigh, walking off toward his room. Ryoma watched him go with a pang of disappointment before retiring to his own.

Chapter Text

The sun had finally set by the time Ryoma had reemerged from his room. The paper lanterns hung about the barracks had been lit, but their glow paled in comparison to the full moon lighting up the path. He tugged on his spare haori as he set out to find Inoue.

In the time he had been in his room, he’d managed to change into a dry set of clothes and clean his swords. Luckily, they had fared better than his clothes had from his soak in the river, but he still took his time to oil them.

He was absolutely not procrastinating the talk with Inoue. Not at all. How could he be worried when he didn’t even know what it was about…?

Shaking the concern off, he headed back towards the gate in search of Sixth Division Captain, but he stumbled across Tani on the way. The Seventh Division Captain was talking to his squad. Something must have gone down, but when Ryoma tried to inquire about it, Tani blew him off and left with his squad.

Had he missed something while out with Okita? Is that what Inoue wanted to talk about? Suddenly he felt foolish for worrying if it involved Tani too… At least, he had hoped that was all it was.

“Saito-san.”

Ryoma turned to see Inoue approaching. “Inoue-san,” he replied by way of a greeting. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“You and Soji…”

Okay, so he was starting right out with it, there would be no beating around the bush then. That was exactly what he had been worried about. How many times had Inoue caught them together now? He nearly flinched at the thought and fought to keep his face neutral, unbothered. “Hmm?”

“What are your intentions with him?”

What were…? Was Inoue implying…?

Ryoma opened his mouth to respond but had no idea what to say. He stood there dumbfounded, mouth hanging open until he realized it was and snapped it shut. He shook his head in disbelief as if that would actually clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Just know that if something happens to him, you’ll have to deal with me,” Inoue said, and there was something so eerie in that calm voice of his. It made it all the more threatening.

“I—” What could he say? ‘I want to bed your—’ what even was Okita to him? Inoue was acting like a father to him and Okita himself seemed to respect Inoue more than anyone else. There was history there. Okita, Nagakura, and Inoue were close. Is that all this was about or did Inoue know something more?

Inoue rescued him from having to respond a moment later.

“In any case, Izo the Butcher’s in town,” Inoue said, abruptly changing the subject.

If Ryoma’s mind hadn’t been reeling before, it certainly was now. He still hadn’t wrapped his head around Inoue’s threat. What did Inoue think was going on between them? He did catch them almost kissing, but…? Did Inoue know who h—

Wait…

“Izo the Butcher… Do you mean Okada Izo?” Ryoma asked, interrupting his own thoughts.

“Yeah. One of the head honchos of from the Tosa Loyalist Party,” Inoue continued. “He’s eliminated several Bakufu personnel, so the Shinsengumi’s been after him for quite a while.”

“I wasn’t aware…” Ryoma was so set on his task to find Toyo’s killer, he hadn’t paid attention to much else. What was Izo doing?

“Izo killed one of our own near the banks of the Kamo River,” Inoue said. “Then Inspector Yamazaki tracked him down.”

Izo was still hanging around. Worse, he was now in danger and might end up blowing Ryoma’s cover in the process. Or was that the plan, to make things harder for Ryoma? He scowled.

“What’s wrong?” Inoue asked, eyeing him.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Ryoma was still frowning.

“Your face doesn’t say it’s nothing.”

How was he going to stop this? Izo certainly wouldn’t listen to him. This situation was only going to end in another fight. Did Takechi set this up on purpose to try and lure Ryoma back to Tosa? Surely Takechi wouldn’t authorize all this bloodshed…

No, he doubted his kyoudai would be that reckless. Still, Izo was a problem…

Inoue was watching him closely, Ryoma was too lost in thought to notice it at first. “Anyhow, the magistrate’s office has made Izo a wanted man. They want him alive, but it’s Tani and Suzuki on the hunt. Knowing them, they’d just as soon cut him in half.”

Ryoma’s blood ran cold. His eyes widened in alarm. That was what Tani was talking about. There was no time to try and talk this out with Izo. It was going down tonight. There would be no love lost between the two, but he didn’t want Izo to die either.

“They’re heading to a gambling den in Rakugai. I suggest you tag along. But don’t underestimate Izo. It could cost you.” Inoue didn’t wait around for Ryoma to respond, he took off out of the barracks leaving Ryoma there stunned.

Ryoma had barely heard any of that conversation as soon as he heard the name and Inoue had been watching him closely the whole time. Was he waiting for a reaction from Ryoma? He didn’t have time to dwell on that now.

Standing around wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Izo was in danger. He might not have gotten along with the man, but he didn’t want him dead. He needed to stop it, but how? He couldn’t blow his cover.

Shaking off the thoughts, he took off after Inoue. He caught up to the other captain quickly and followed him through Kyo at a brisk pace. They rounded a corner to find Tani and Suzuki scoping out the gambling den.

“Tch, so you came You really want the bounty that bad, huh?” Tani was annoyed the second he saw Ryoma approaching with Inoue.

“I invited him. Our numbers were too few anyway,” Inoue replied. Ryoma couldn’t help but wonder why Inoue had invited him specifically. Surely he could have invited Okita or Nagakura… Why him?

“Huh? What’s the gray old man of the Sixth Division babblin’ about?” Suzuki said. “Yer nothin’ but a deadweight, ya know that?”

“I will not be a deadweight,” Inoue replied, as calm as ever. For a moment, Ryoma wonder if that was where Nagakura got his calm demeanour from, because Okita certainly didn’t.

“I’m tellin’ ya to stay outta this, geezer! You too, Saito,” Suzuki countered.

“Shut it, Suzuki. You’re no more useful than they are. I’ll be the one to take Izo!” Tani snapped.

Ryoma really was getting sick of the two of them. Surely neither of the two idiots was the one who had killed Toyo, that would just be an insult. Ryoma rolled his eyes. This is what the Shinsengumi had to offer. How did men like this become captains?

There was no time to dwell on that now, though. Tani suddenly bolted for the gambling den and Suzuki gave chase shouting after him as he followed with Inoue close on his heels.

Ryoma wasn’t given time to think as he chased the others into the fight. That was fine by him, he didn’t have time to dwell on what they were rushing into or how he was going to get out of this one.  

In the end, Izo hadn’t wanted to blow his cover. He had ruthlessly slaughtered Tani and Suzuki, but he’d kept Ryoma’s cover, addressing him by his alias. It had been a relief to Ryoma even if Izo had only used it as an excuse to fight Ryoma again. They fought and for the third time, Ryoma defeated him. Izo was arrested and the whole thing turned out to be a test from Inoue. Then Ryoma found out he may have just gotten Takechi killed. Perfect. What a great night it was shaping up to be.

Ryoma sighed as Inoue started to walk off.

Inoue paused, tilting his head just enough for Ryoma to catch the side of his face. “You’ll find him at the Singing Bar,” he said. “But Saito-san… remember what I said.” He walked off before Ryoma’s mind could catch up with what he had said.

A test the whole thing had been a test. Was Inoue really testing him because of Okita? Or was it more than that? Did the Sixth Division Captain know who he was? The sly old man had not missed the way Izo had looked at him. He definitely knew something...

Then again, if he did know who Ryoma was, surely he wouldn’t have just given Ryoma permission to see Okita… Right? Ryoma’s mind was spinning. He must have done something right in Inoue’s books, but that decision may have just gotten his own kyoudai killed.

He needed a drink, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the man who may or may not be waiting there.

*****

The bar was busy when Ryoma strolled in. The tables were packed, and people were standing around against the walls as someone took the stage to sing.

He spotted Okita and Nagakura quickly. Okita must have had a spare haori as well as it was far drier and cleaner than he remembered. Either way, it seemed to work as a deterrent because the seats beside him were free. The two men were seated across from each other, sharing sake as Ryoma approached, dropping down onto the bench on Okita’s right. Nagakura nodded at him in greeting, but of course Okita was as boisterous as always.

“Hajime-chan!” Okita cheered, voice shrill as he slapped Ryoma on the back. “Yo! Ya here to belt one out too? I was thinkin’ ‘bout gettin’ up there myself—wanna team up on this? Make it a real blast?”

“He’s shit at it,” Nagakura warned.

Okita huffs. “Hajime-chan enjoys my singin’, don’tcha?”

“I do?”

Okita snorted. “That’s it, now you owe me.”

Ryoma chuckled. “Fine, fine.”

“At least let the man have a drink first, Soji!” Nagakura grabbed another cup, pouring Ryoma the last of their sake. He pushed it over to Ryoma and stood up. “I’ll get us some more.”

Ryoma pulled the cup over to himself and downed it before he looked over to find Okita watching him closely. It was funny, now that Ryoma thought of it, Inoue looked at him with such suspicion. Okita had that before too, but it was different. Okita was curious.

“Have you been here long?” Ryoma asked.

“Naw, but I hear ya had some fun with Gen-san.”

“Something like that, but I am not nearly drunk enough for this conversation,” Ryoma replied with a sigh.

“Oooh that bad, huh?” Okita leaned in, smirking.

“Did you know he wanted to test me?” Ryoma asked.

Okita shrugged. “He told me to keep my nose outta it.”

“So, you did know then?”

“Yer new. He just wanted to see what yer made of.”

“He wanted to make sure I wasn’t dangerous to you.” A little voice in the back of Ryoma’s mind nagged at him that it was more than that, that Inoue knew more than he was letting on, but Ryoma pushed it aside. There was nothing he could do about it now and he didn’t want to think about it.

That had Okita cackling loudly though. “Are ya here to corrupt me, Hajime-chan?”

Ryoma leaned in closer, smirking. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you should.”

Nagakura returned all too soon and the two men pulled apart quickly. If Nagakura had seen the look they had shared, he didn’t say. He sat back down and poured them all refills while Ryoma watched Okita turn his sights on Nagakura.

Ryoma wondered why he was still trying to hold back. It was just sex. Nothing more. He wasn’t trying to ask for Okita’s hand. They were both two grown adults who were obviously attracted to each other.

Why couldn’t they have a little fun? Take the edge off?

He was no stranger to seeking pleasures where he could get them, but in the past year, he had been so focused on one thing, he had neglected himself. Maybe that is why he’d let Okita get under his skin. Maybe he should allow himself to be a little selfish.

There was no way he was imagining the magnetism between them.

Ryoma finished off his cup of sake, feeling the warmth spread through him, easing his nerves. What was the worst that could happen? Okita said no and stopped following him around?

It would certainly make his task easier…

He didn’t like that thought though and it was almost enough to stop him.

Almost.

Okita’s knee knocked against his, drawing him out of his thoughts and he looked over to find Okita squinting at him questioningly. “Need more to drink, Hajime-chan?” he asked, smirking. He lifted his own cup to his lips, finishing off his sake.

A shiver shot down Ryoma’s spine as he watched Okita’s throat bob when he swallowed. Then his tongue brushed over his lower lip, chasing away a drop that had escaped.

Fuck it.

Ryoma leaned closer to whisper in Okita’s ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

He was close enough to Okita to feel him shudder at that. His head turned, leaning closer to Ryoma as he whispered back, “and go where?”

“Somewhere private?”

When Ryoma pulled back, he could see the gears turning in Okita’s head as he squinted at Ryoma. It took a moment before his eye widened in understanding, his jaw dropping open.

Ryoma couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Shinpa-chan, Hajime-chan isn’t feelin’ well. I gotta walk him home.”

Nagakura cocked an eyebrow. “Are ya comin’ back?”

“No,” Ryoma answered for him, climbing to his feet.

The pair rushed out of the bar together.

Chapter Text

They stumbled out of the Singing Bar together and Ryoma quickly led him towards the Inn, steering them away from the market, opting to take the less crowded path. Okita kept up with this stride with ease, close on his heels.

“What made ya finally ask?” Okita inquired as they cut through a deserted alley.

“Finally?”

A hand shot out and caught Ryoma’s wrist, tugging him back. Ryoma turned and nearly lost his footing, stumbling into Okita only to be pressed against the side of a building. They may have been cloaked in shadow, but Ryoma was aware anyone could stumble upon them, but then Okita leaned in close, his hands moving to Ryoma’s hips, and Ryoma couldn’t bring himself to care if anyone saw.

“That day I first saw ya, I saw the way ya looked at me when my blade was in yer face,” Okita continued, his voice low. “There was fire in yer eyes. You enjoyed that fight, got’cha blood pumpin’, didn’t it?”

Ryoma chuckled softly. He wasn’t wrong. “I recall my blade was aimed at your chest.”

Okita smirked, his gaze fell to Ryoma’s lips. “I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ of it. Had my sword aching to be in ya.”

A shiver raced down Ryoma’s spine, the sound of Okita’s voice alone was almost enough to send heat pooling in his gut. “What’s stopping you?” he whispered, leaning in closer, daring Okita to kiss him.

And Okita did.

Their lips clashed together, fuelled by the desire they had been dancing around for what felt like ages at this point. It was electric. Ryoma’s body arched away from the wall, his hands fisting into Okita’s haori determined to pull Okita as close as possible.

Okita groaned as his tongue teased over Ryoma’s lower lip, and Ryoma parted them to let it slip into his mouth with his own answering moan. They pressed so closely together Ryoma was sure Okita could feel his heartbeat hammering away in his chest.

Warmth blossomed in Ryoma’s veins. It was everything he had been craving since they had almost kissed the other day, but he needed to get Okita back to the inn before he fell to his knees right there. He broke the kiss with a gasp, dizzy as all the blood in his body rushed south, and Okita seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“C’mon, take me to your room before I have ya right here,” Okita growled, and Ryoma very near dragged him back in for another kiss. Okita stepped back and Ryoma had to stop himself from whining at the loss.

The amused look on Okita’s face told him he might not have been as silent as he thought…

Ryoma needed to get it together. He shook off the haze of desire in his mind and stumbled away from the wall before setting off at a faster pace. They slipped into the inn together, and Ryoma was grateful neither Oryo nor Otose were around. He had absolutely no desire to try and explain the state of himself or his guest.

Quickly, he turned and ran up the steps with Okita right on his heels. They must have looked like quite the sight, rushing past the other guests. This was a bad idea, he knew it, bringing Okita to the inn. The walls were paper thin and if they weren’t careful, everyone would know what they did. But Okita’s hand was back on his hip and Ryoma couldn’t think straight if he tried.

Arousal was stirring in his gut.

The door was barely closed behind them before Okita was on him, kissing the breath from Ryoma’s lungs. It was a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth, but it stoked the fire burning inside Ryoma.

Okita threw an arm around Ryoma’s waist, holding them close as they stumbled further into the room. Ryoma could taste the sake on Okita’s lips and the tongue that delved into his mouth again.

He groaned.

They barely paid attention to where they were going as they shed their haoris, dropping them carelessly to the floor before Ryoma was cupping Okita’s face, holding him there like a lifeline as they kissed. It was hungry and demanding, their teeth nearly clacking together, but neither man cared in the desperation to get at skin.

Ryoma barely had a second to place his weapons on the dresser before Okita was unwrapping him, shoving his hakama down and tearing open his kimono.

Okita broke the kiss to look down over Ryoma with a moan. His palms slid up Ryoma’s torso, grabbing his pecs as he cursed under his breath, eye devouring the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, do ya have any idea what ya do to a man?”

“Show me.”

And Okita was kissing him again, pressing him back. Ryoma hissed as the cool metal handles of the dresser cut into his back and he arched into Okita’s body, pulling him closer with a hand on the back of his neck.

The kiss didn’t linger this time as Okita broke it again in favour of leaving a trail of wet kisses down Ryoma’s jaw to his neck, and Ryoma tilted his head, exposing more skin to hungry lips.

“Tell me what ya want,” Okita practically purred into his skin. Tongue and teeth worked their way over sensitive skin, teasing at Ryoma’s pulse point.

A shiver rolled down Ryoma’s spine. He was already hard, he could feel himself straining against his fundoshi. “I don’t want to be able to walk tomorrow. Think you can handle that?”

Okita chuckled, but Ryoma felt him shudder against him. “I’ll get the futon.” When he stepped back, his eye was dark, pupil blown as he looks over Ryoma one more time. There was hunger in his eye that sent heat right to Ryoma’s core.

They turned away from each other. Okita scrambled to get the futon out as Ryoma dug around in his dresser for his pot of clove oil. It didn’t take him long to find it and he spun around to help Okita only to stop dead in his tracks.

Now that Okita was free of his haori, Ryoma had a clear view of his thighs peeking out of the gaps in his hakama. It hadn’t occurred to Ryoma that his lack of a kimono would leave him exposed and that sight now sent a wave of desire through Ryoma. That thought was going to plague Ryoma every time he saw the man, he just knew it.

Okita straightened up and turned to face Ryoma, smirking as he realized what Ryoma was looking at. “Hajime-chan,” he cooed. “Strip and get on yer knees for me.” He removed his swords, setting them aside before working on untying his own hakama.

Suddenly acutely aware of his own hakama still pooled around his ankles, Ryoma kicked them aside before making his way to the futon. He set the oil down before shrugging off his kimono.

Okita came up behind him, fingers running down Ryoma’s sides before impatiently pressing down on Ryoma’s fundoshi until it fell to the floor and Okita was free to rock his hips against Ryoma’s ass.

Ryoma gasped. He could feel the hard line of Okita’s cock pressing against the cleft of his ass as the other thrust against him. He needed it in him now. “Okita,” he groaned out, pressing back against him.

“Knees,” he growled in Ryoma’s ear.

Ryoma scrambled down onto the futon, resting on his hands and knees as Okita dropped down behind him. He leaned down onto his elbows, ass up in the air as he laid his forehead on his forearm, waiting.

Impatient now, Okita didn’t waste any time. He dipped a finger into the oil before teasing the digit against Ryoma’s hole, drawing a gasp out of the other man. He slowly pressed in.

It wasn’t going to be enough, Ryoma’s own impatience was shining through as he pressed back. One finger wasn’t enough, he wasn’t going to break, and he made his complaints known. “More.”

Okita chuckled, pulling the finger back only to press in two instead, groaning as Ryoma’s body swallow up his digits. “Look at ya, already desperate for it, desperate for me to fill yer needy hole.”

Ryoma shuddered as Okita’s words send a jolt of arousal straight to his dick. He felt it throb and he pressed back on Okita’s fingers, desperate for more. “Yes,” he groaned out. “So, hurry up!”

Not needing to be told twice, Okita set a quick pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of Ryoma as he rushed to stretch him open. He curled and scissored them with each movement, searching for that spot that would make Ryoma see stars.

Ryoma bit down hard on his own arm as Okita found it, pleasure shooting up his spine. He ground his hips back onto that finger, desperate to chase that feeling again. Ryoma was not going to beg. He wasn’t. He— “Ah please! Fuck me!” he growled out.

Okita cursed and Ryoma very near whined when his fingers slipped free of his body, but he didn’t have to wait long. Barely a moment passed before he felt the blunt head of Okita’s cock nudging his slick hole and he shuddered.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Ryoma’s breath hitched as he felt Okita press in, thrusting deeper with each languid roll of his hips. The stretch burned, but it was a pleasurable burn that had Ryoma sighing in bliss as Okita bottomed out, cock buried deep inside Ryoma. His hips stilled then, giving them both a moment to adjust.

Leaning forward over Ryoma, Okita’s hands supported himself on either side of Ryoma’s head. His hips began to rock slowly, the first sign of his growing impatience that was driving Ryoma mad with desire.

“Move,” Ryoma pleaded.

Okita didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back, hands on Ryoma’s hips as he slipped nearly out Ryoma’s body only to thrust back in with a groan. “Fuck… yer so tight.” he moaned out. “Squeezin’ my cock better than any whore.”

Ryoma would deny the things that did to him. His words alone sending a jolt of heat straight to his groin, his cock twitching where it hung heavy between his legs. He bit back a groan, burying his face back in his arm as Okita started to fuck into him. It was all Ryoma could do to try and silence himself, pressing his face into the futon below.

Okita’s hips stilled as fingers tangled into Ryoma’s hair, pulling him up so his back was flush against Okita’s chest and Ryoma could no longer hide his face in the cushions. “Don’t,” he growled low in Ryoma’s ear. “Let me hear ya.”

“Okita…” It was meant to be a warning, but Ryoma couldn’t help how breathless he sounded. The fingers in his hair made him shudder, groaning as Okita rocked his hips into him.

“Ooh, are ya afraid they’ll hear?” Okita continued, cooing into Ryoma’s ear. He wrapped an arm around Ryoma, holding him close as he began rocking into him. He shifted just enough to nearly pull out before thrusting back in with a snap of his hips.

Ryoma gasped louder than he meant to, his back arching as he tried to press himself further back on to Okita’s dick. He reached behind him, holding on to the back of Okita’s neck, keeping him close.

“Do ya know whatcha’ve done to me?” Okita continued with another growl. The sound of his voice went straight to Ryoma’s dick. “Left me layin’ awake at night, unable to stop myself from thinkin’ of ya. What pretty sounds you’d make takin’ my cock…”

Ryoma couldn’t help the jolt of excitement that shot straight to his dick or the groan that followed. His thoughts were completely jumbled, unable to think past the haze of lust. He rocked himself back against Okita.

What was he meant to be concerned about again?

“So let me hear ya,” Okita finished with a growl as he started fucking into him now. The warm breath caressing Ryoma’s skin made him shiver, goosebumps running down his neck.

Ryoma threw his head back onto Okita’s shoulder, spine arching as Okita fucked into him. He tried to stay quiet, but he can’t help moaning into Okita’s ear. “Don’t stop… Don’t— fuck!” he gasps. “Don’t stop!”

Okita slides his hands up Ryoma’s torso, grabbing Ryoma’s pecs and squeezing them, babbling filthy praise into Ryoma’s ear. Ryoma barely heard it, he was too far gone, too focused on the pleasure building inside him.

He reached up, resting his palm on the back of the hand currently groping his pec before he threaded their fingers together and pushed down. Heat bloomed in the wake of Okita’s palm as he pressed it down over his torso to his neglected dick. “Please.”

Those nimble fingers closed around his cock and together they pumped him in time with Okita’s increasingly erratic thrusts.

Ryoma gasped as he was forced back down onto the futon and Okita picked up the pace, leaning over him. The new angle nearly had him shouting as Okita brushed that spot inside him that made him see stars again and again.

The heat inside him was building rapidly now. He could feel the tension coiling so tight it was about to snap. He wasn’t going to last much longer, and Okita seemed to understand that.

“O-Okita… I—Oh fuck…” Ryoma groaned, writhing under Okita’s relentless pace.

“Cum for me,” Okita growled as his hand sped up on Ryoma’s dick.

Ryoma couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried. He bit into his own arm, barely muffling his cry as he spilled over Okita’s fingers and the futon below, white hot pleasure flooding through his veins. His vision went white as he road through it, babbling Okita’s name.

Okita was desperately chasing after his own release now, his hands back on Ryoma’s hips as he plowed into him.

“Fucking fill me,” Ryoma groaned out, already bordering on overstimulated even as he thrust back against Okita. He turned his head to glance at Okita over his shoulder and clenched down tight around his dick.

Okita gasped out a loud curse. He thrust in once, twice more before burying himself into Ryoma. He moaned his name as he spilled deep inside him, nails digging into Ryoma’s hips.

Once they were both spent, Ryoma tipped forward, flinching as they collapsed down into the mess he had made of his futon. He was going to need to clean that and soon, but for now he was content to bask in the afterglow. He wasn’t sure his legs would be useful any time soon anyway and he was enjoying the weight on top of him even if they were both a sweaty mess.

Neither man spoke for a while, both of them trying to regain their breathing. Then Okita shifted his hips just enough to slip his softening cock from Ryoma’s body. He rolled off onto his back with a satisfied hum.

Ryoma shivered as the cool air rushed against his bare skin, but he forced himself to roll onto his side, glancing down at the mess he had made with a grimace. He really should have thought that one through…

Okita chuckled when he caught him looking and Ryoma opened his mouth to respond when he heard a voice at the door.

“Hajime-san, have you returned?” Oryo called through the door and Ryoma practically launched himself to his feet with a grimace as he felt the mess leaking down his thigh. “May I come in?”

“No!” he replied a little too hastily. Okita was snickering and Ryoma threw Okita’s hakama at his face to shut him up. “We’re uh, discussing important business.”

“Oh, you have a guest? Shall I get you both something to eat?”

“Absolutely,” Okita replied for him, climbing to his feet finally. He stumbled a bit, tugging on his hakama.

“I will return shortly then.”

Ryoma ran around, cleaning himself up, tugging on his clothing, throwing open the sliding windows, and lighting incense all the while Okita took his sweet time pulling his own clothing back on. He had barely enough time to clean and roll up the futon before Oryo had returned with a meal for the both of them.

In hindsight, the inn really had not been the best place to bring Okita…

Chapter Text

A few days had passed since his night with Okita, and Ryoma hadn’t seen him since.

That night Okita had torn through his dinner, animatedly going on about his ‘glorious’ exploits through a mouthful of food, and Ryoma begrudgingly found it endearing. Okita may be blood thirsty, but Ryoma was beginning to see there was more to him than his love for a good fight.

Once they had finished up dinner, Okita had promptly passed out on the floor. Try as he might, Ryoma had not been able to rouse him for anything. So, he stuffed a cushion under his head, threw a blanket over him, and Okita had spent the night only to sneak out some time in the early hours before Ryoma had woken up.

Ryoma had been disappointed to find himself alone the next morning, but had he expected anything different?

No, he realized then he needed to get his head back in the game. He didn’t have time to be consorting with a man who could still very well be involved with Toyo’s death. Even though he was beginning to think Okita might not know anything about that. Still, he didn’t know what he was thinking bringing Okita back to the inn…

After that, he had spent the last few days avoiding Okita as best he could. He avoided the Singing Bar and Nichibuza, putting more time in working with his troopers and running missions as he tried to pick up on any gossip he could around the barracks. The nights he either spent at the Inn by himself or working in his garden to give himself something to do.

At the end of the day, Ryoma was acutely aware of Okita’s absence even if he was the one avoiding the man. He hadn’t realized just how much time they had been spending together, until he wasn’t there. He could chalk it up to just being lonely. No one there knew who he was, not even Haruka knew. Izo was now gone, not that they had ever gotten along, and Takechi was out of reach after their stupid fight. The only person who knew his true identity was Nakaoka and that was only because of their shared goal.

Truthfully, it had been a long year and Ryoma had welcomed the company. Try as he might, he still could not get Okita out of his head and any excuse he made for it was flimsy at best.

After three days of avoiding the man, the next captain’s meeting had been awkward to say the least. Or maybe it was only awkward for Ryoma. Okita seemed as relaxed as ever, and just as disinterested in everyone around him. At least until the true reason for the meeting came out.

The loyalist now wanted to set fire to the palace and kidnap the Emperor. Ryoma couldn’t wrap his mind around that, what were the loyalists up to? That was a bit extreme, even for them.

Okita had seemed ecstatic about the situation, but Ryoma wouldn’t expect any less from him. He really played bored and disinterested well until anything exciting and new popped up, then Okita was all over it, back to his colourful vocabulary about cracking skulls and getting some action (a comment that almost had Ryoma laughing until he caught himself).

Then there was Inoue, always watching him with a sharp eye. The man hung on to his every word as if he was waiting for Ryoma to slip up. Ryoma just couldn’t figure out if it was his closeness with Okita or if the man knew something he wasn’t letting on. Surely if Inoue knew who he was, he would have made a move by now…

There was also Matsubara.

The Fourth Division captain hadn’t really caught Ryoma’s eye. Like Ryoma, he seemed to be a bit of an outlier amongst the other captains. Ryoma hadn’t really thought much of him until he ran across Matsubara speaking with the Crow. Right before Ryoma’s eyes, he killed the man and then tried to blame it on Ryoma as if it was his fault Matsubara had chosen to have a private conversation in the open where anyone could have stumbled across them. It just so happened that that someone had been Ryoma.

Had that been on purpose? A show of force just to intimidate Ryoma?

When confronted, Matsubara had been cryptic. Even if he didn’t know anything about Ryoma, which Ryoma suspected he did, he clearly had his own secrets to hide, enough that he was willing to kill to keep them buried. The whole encounter had left his mind reeling and now Ryoma was left with more questions than answers. He didn’t feel anywhere closer to finding out who Toyo’s killer was.

The only thing he could do after that, was head back to the barracks where he, of course, ran across Okita as soon as he walked through the gate. Hijikata had been quick to pull him into their conversation. For a brief moment, Ryoma wondered if Matsubara had said something to them, but no, they just wanted to discuss their plans for that evening.

After they parted, he headed straight for his room, intending to hide away until night fall. If he wasn’t allowed to leave without rousing suspicion, then his next best way to avoid Okita was to shut himself in.

Ryoma slipped into his room, sliding the door shut behind him before walking over to the dresser. He pulled out his gun and laid it down on the wooden surface, before his swords followed. He had every intention of waiting out the evening polishing his swords in preparation, but Ryoma miscalculated the safety of his quarters.

The door slid open, and Ryoma didn’t need to look to know who it was. Okita slipped in silently, closing the door behind himself just as quickly. “Have ya been avoidin’ me, Hajime-chan?”

Ryoma sighed. He could deny it, but he was probably only lying to himself at this point. Of course he had been avoiding Okita. He’d come here for a reason. He didn’t need a distraction right now. “You’re the one that snuck out in the morning,” he deflected.

“Haw? I couldn’t sleep,” Okita replied. “Didn’t wanna interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“So selfless.” Ryoma responded, turning to see Okita approaching him. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Did ya miss me?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Okita grinned wolfishly, backing Ryoma up against the wall and trapping him there with his hands pressing against the wall on either side of Ryoma’s head. Ryoma bit back a gasp.

“And now we have time to waste.”

“And?” Ryoma did his best to act disinterested even as his hands twitched to pull Okita in closer. He dropped his arms to his sides so the other captain wouldn’t notice.

“Spend it with me?”

Okita leaned in close enough that his breath ghosted across Ryoma’s lips, stopping Ryoma’s heart for an instant. Swallowing back the lump that had formed in his throat, Ryoma’s eyes immediately fell to Okita’s lips. He shouldn’t want this… Why did he crave his touch so badly?

No. No. No. He was going to stick to his guns. He—

“Unless ya don’t want me…?” Okita hesitated, drawing back when Ryoma didn’t respond right away. There was a flash of real self-doubt in Okita’s expression, a look that filled Ryoma with a fierce need to reassure Okita that that wasn’t the case, but he was sure Okita would deny it if he tried to bring it up.

That left him with one option…

He gripped Okita by his haori and yanked him into a kiss.

Okita let out a noise of surprise, but quickly leaned into it. His hands dropped down to Ryoma’s hips and he closed the remaining distance between them, pressing up against Ryoma. He was quick to deepen the kiss, his tongue teasing against Ryoma’s lower lip before he sucked the plump flesh between his teeth and tugged.

Ryoma hissed. “Bastard,” he whispered, causing Okita to snicker before Ryoma was silencing him with another kiss. There was no hiding what Okita had really come for. Ryoma could make all the excuses he wanted, but the truth was he wanted Okita too.

Cupping the back of Okita’s head, Ryoma held him close as the kiss turned heated. Okita licked into his mouth, tongues brushing together, and Ryoma groaned. Ryoma ran his hand back down Okita's torso, nails grazing against skin. He reached blindly for the gap in Okita's hakama, squeezing Okita’s bare thigh.

Okita growled into the kiss, shuddering against Ryoma. His hands immediately tugged on Ryoma's kimono, loosening it so he could get at Ryoma's skin. His palms smoothed up Ryoma's torso before shamelessly squeezing his pecs and Ryoma arched into the touch with a groan.

One touch and Ryoma was already melting into his arms. It might have been embarrassing if he could think past all the blood currently racing south. Thumbs brushed over his nipples and Ryoma's breath hitched as Okita fondled him.

Ryoma broke the kiss with a breathy chuckle, his head bumping back against the wall as he arched into the touch. Heat was rapidly pooling into his core, he could already feel himself getting hard.

"What's so funny?"

“The number of times I’ve caught you staring at my chest,” Ryoma replied, smirking. “Like when we fought.”

Okita had the audacity to actually look guilty before he snorted. "Shut up!" he replied, and Ryoma laughed again until Okita was kissing him breathless. "Yer the one that begged for my cock," Okita growled against Ryoma's lips which only made Ryoma’s grin widen.

"Are you going to give it to me then or just keep complaining?" Ryoma countered. Okita was instantly flustered, though he tried to hide it by burying his face into Ryoma’s neck where he could mouth at Ryoma’s sensitive skin.

Ryoma groaned. "Get these clothes off!"

It was a rush after that. Okita’s lips worked up Ryoma’s neck, as they both tugged at each other’s clothing. Okita’s blades clattered to the floor, but neither of them seemed to notice as their clothes followed after, leaving them both bare from the waist down.

Their lips crashed together once again in a sloppy kiss as Okita pressed up against him, both of them moaning in unison as their hard cocks slid together. Ryoma clung on to Okita’s haori as he rocked back against him, shuddering.

Okita broke the kiss again, rocking his hips against Ryoma with a moan. "Do ya have oil?"

"Not here."

"Fuck, I have some in my room..."

"Should have gone there then,” Ryoma groaned out. His head fell back against the wall again. “Ah, don’t stop.”

"Next time."

“Next—” Ryoma didn’t have a chance to process that thought before Okita was dropping to his knees. Gripping Ryoma’s hips, Okita buried his face in Ryoma’s groin, leaving a trail of slopy, wet kisses from base to tip. Ryoma gasped Okita’s name, before biting his lip to quiet himself.

“Fuck, everything ‘bout ya is pretty,” Okita moaned before licking a strip up Ryoma’s length. He stroked back the foreskin before teasing his tongue over the tip and taking him into his mouth. Okita wasn’t wasting any time.

Warm, wet heat engulfed Ryoma’s dick and he clamped a hand over his own mouth to stifle a loud moan. He shut his eyes against a wave of pleasure as he felt himself hit the back of Okita’s mouth. Ryoma bit down on his hand, stifling another groan as his swollen tip squeezed into Okita’s throat. It was a wonder Okita didn’t gag as he continued swallowing Ryoma down, only stopping once his face was pressed into Ryoma’s groin. He swallowed around Ryoma’s length, and Ryoma moaned as he felt Okita’s throat constrict further around him.

“H-how are you so good at this?” he groaned out, finally looking down at Okita. The sight alone was near enough to send him over the edge. His cock throbbed within the tight confines of Okita’s throat.

Okita pulled back just enough to look up at Ryoma through a heavily lidded eye before it fell shut again and he started bobbing his head along Ryoma’s length. His tongue teased along the heated flesh, cheeks hollowing out as he sucked. And the vulgar sounds he was making sent heat surging straight to Ryoma’s dick. For a brief moment, Ryoma was worried someone would hear, but the thought was dashed from his mind as the pleasure built up inside him.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, watching as Okita swallowed him down again and again. The pleasure was maddening, the heat inside him growing. He cupped the back of Okita’s head, resting his hand there. His fingers twitched with his desire to bury them into Okita’s hair if only it wasn’t currently tied back.

Ryoma’s head fell back against the wall again as he breathlessly groaned Okita’s name. He fought to keep his hips still, wanting nothing more to chase after his own pleasure. He was getting so close.

So close….

When he glanced down at Okita again, the sight nearly did him in. Okita was a beautiful mess. Strands of hair had managed to slip free of the tie. His eye watered with the effort of choking Ryoma down. And a mix of saliva and precum was drooling out Okita’s mouth. But what went straight to Ryoma’s dick was the sight of Okita’s knees spread wide as he jerked himself off at a rapid pace.

“Ah f-fuck,” Ryoma groaned out. “I’m gonna….”

He tried to get the warning out, but the pleasure was overwhelming. Okita took him back down his throat, swallowing around him with a hum of encouragement, and Ryoma couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried.

Biting down hard onto his hand, Ryoma came with a muffled shout, spilling down Okita’s throat as pleasure flooded through him. He sagged heavily back against the wall for support, trembling as Okita greedily swallowed down all he had to offer before finally pulling off him with a gasp.

Clinging onto Ryoma’s kimono with his free hand, Okita buried his face into Ryoma’s thigh, stifling his own cry of pleasure as he spilled over his own hand. He slumped forward, relying on Ryoma for support as they both tried to catch their breath.

It was a while before either of them stirred. Ryoma’s head fell back against the wall, eyes closed as he absentmindedly brushed the loose strands of Okita’s hair back and his blunt nails scratched lightly at the shorn sides.

Okita finally climbed back to his feet and grabbed a towel that had been neatly folded on the dresser. He cleaned himself up quickly before tossing it at Ryoma with a grin. “Better hurry before they come lookin’ for us.”

“Huh?” Ryoma caught the towel and quickly cleaned himself up before going about getting dressed again. As if on cue they heard voices outside the room, and Ryoma wondered if Okita knew this whole time.

“Where is Okita-san?” a muffled voice asked.

“The Deputy Chief is looking for him,” someone else responded.

“He’s looking for Saito-san too,” replied a voice that sounded an awful lot like Matsubara. Ryoma shuddered to think what he wanted.

“Well, you’ll probably find ‘em together.” That was definitely Nagakura.

“Traitor,” Okita hissed, and Ryoma couldn’t help but snicker.

They had just enough time to sort out their clothing before they heard footsteps approaching the door. Ryoma glanced over to see Okita slouching against the wall, arms crossed and looking as unbothered as ever. The only sign of what they had done was Okita’s swollen lips. Ryoma smirked, looking away as he fetched his weapons.

The door slid open and Nagakura peered in. “Found ya. Not suspicious at all.”

“Yeah, yeah, was helpin’ Hajime-chan polish his sword.” Okita pushed away from the wall and stood up straight.

“You should really worry about yer own,” Nagakura replied, but he was smirking.

“I did!” Okita protested as he pushed passed Nagakura and left the room.

Ryoma bit back a laugh and followed the two out.

Chapter Text

The moon was high in the sky by the time Okita stepped outside. The cool night air was a welcomed relief from the sweltering heat of the warehouse, but it did nothing to cool the fire in his veins. Okita was in high spirits, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with his excitement for the coming raid. He was fucking pumped, primed for a good fight, and ready to let loose.

Nothing was going to spoil his night.

Nagakura followed at Okita’s side as they crossed the yard, heading for the front of the barracks. They had been making plans to meet back up at the gate after speaking with their troops when Inoue approached.

“Soji.”

Okita paused as Inoue caught up with them. “Gen-san?”

“A word in private if you have a moment?” Inoue asked though his tone made it clear it wasn’t a question. It made Okita bristle. What could Inoue want now of all times?

Nagakura chuckled and patted Okita on the back sympathetically. “I’ll meet ya at the gate,” he replied before walking off and leaving Okita with no choice but to follow Inoue back to his room.

The rich, woodsy scent of cedarwood was thick in the air as incense burned in the corner of the room. It was meant to be a calming scent, one that should invoke a clear mind, but Okita couldn’t help the spark of anxiety he felt the moment he stepped inside. Inoue followed in after, closing the door behind them.

Raising an eyebrow in question, Okita turned to face his mentor. “What’s this about?”

“How much do you know about Saito-san?” There was a stern look on Inoue’s face as he stared Okita down.

“Haw?! Not this again.” Okita rolled his eye. He should have guessed what their conversation would be about. Inoue must have caught him leaving Saito’s room earlier.

From the start, Inoue had not been pleased with his interest in their new third captain. He honestly didn’t know why it was such a big deal. Though they did have their secrets to keep, secrets Okita had promised to take to his grave. It stung to think that his mentor could possibly think so little of him. As if Okita would throw everything away for a good fuck. He couldn’t remember a time where he had ever taken interest in someone either… He wasn’t above trips to Gion. Men, women, it didn’t matter to him, but his interest always vanished come morning. He never wanted anything more.

Then Saito showed up.

Maybe that’s what all this was about, Inoue’s way of trying to protect him. Inoue had been the only father figure he’d ever known. His real parents had been killed when he was a teen leaving him out on the streets where he had been forced to fend for himself. It was then he had met Nagakura, and shortly after that, Inoue had taken them both under his wing. He’d taught them both how to fight, how to survive. Okita owed him everything.

“Have you learned his purpose for joining us yet?” Inoue continued his questioning, drawing Okita out of his thoughts.

“Glory, honour, fortune?” Okita shrugged, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. He wasn’t naïve enough to think Saito didn’t have something to hide, the third division captain was far too guarded not to, but who around there didn’t?

Inoue’s eyes narrowed for a moment like he was studying Okita, but then his gaze softened, and he sighed tiredly. “I do not wish to see you get hurt, Soji.”

Okita scoffed. So, this was about parenting him? “You think I can’t defend myself?”

“Physically, I know you can, but I have not seen you take such interest in anyone before.”

The comment caught Okita off guard. Had he really been that obvious? He supposed he had, he was constantly following Saito after all. The goal had been to learn more about their new captain.

Mostly.

It wasn’t like he had feelings for Saito. The third division captain was just fun. Outside of that, he hardly knew the man, but he appreciated his strength. He wanted to know him. He wanted to learn why he fought, what made him tick. He saw that spark in Saito’s eyes at tryouts, an answering challenge that had set Okita’s blood on fire. He didn’t know what he wanted more, to fight him or to fuck him again.

Maybe both…

Okita opened his mouth to defend himself but didn’t know what to say. He’d much rather fall on his own sword than tell all that to his mentor. So, he snapped his mouth shut, scowling at the other man.

Inoue chuckled softly. “All I am saying is don’t let your guard down,” he continued. “You know nothing about this man.”

“Y’know somethin’ about him don’t ya?” Okita asked, his eye narrowing as he studied Inoue. His mentor’s gaze hardened again in an instant, and Okita knew then that he had hit close to the truth.

“He’s new,” Inoue replied, as if that explained things.

“So was Heisuke,” Okita remarked. “And Matsubara.” Inoue hadn't treated either of them like this. Though, the difference was, Okita wasn't interested in either of them.

Inoue signed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before he finally looked at Okita again. “I am telling you right now to forget this silly infatuation with him. It's going to get you killed,” he finally said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Now go, we have a job to do.”

Okita’s eye narrowed again, searching Inoue’s face for answers, but his mentor had already turned away. The old man was hiding something, that was obvious. Was it because he just didn’t like Saito or did he not like Okita being interested in him? Whatever it was, Okita was now more determined than ever to get to the bottom of it.

“Go on. We’ll talk more once all this is done,” Inoue said, as he slid open the door.

Okita shrugged off the concern and schooled his emotions before heading out the door. He had a job to focus on. He didn’t have time to be dwelling on personal issues, but he would get to the bottom of it as soon as he had the chance.

Heading for the gate, Okita made a quick stop to instruct his troopers on where to meet and their plans to travel separately, before seeking out Nagakura at the entrance. If he had kept an eye out for Saito on his way, well… that was his business.

Nagakura nodded at him in greeting, pushing himself away from the wall to join Okita’s side as they headed out of the barracks. Despite Hijikata’s orders, the two men were often seen traveling together, so neither were concerned about raising suspicion.

“What’d Gen-san want?” Nagakura was the first to break the silence as they headed down the stairs together.

“To grill me about Hajime-chan.”

Nagakura snorted in response.

“The more he tries to stop me,” Okita continued, scowling, “the more I need to know what’s goin’ on between them.”

“Is that wise?” Nagakura asked. “What’s the deal between the two of ya, anyway, you and Saito?” He sidestepped a palanquin as he kept up with Okita’s brisk pace.

“Hm?”

“C’mon Soji, don’t play dumb.”

“He’s fun.”

“That’s it?”

Okita shrugged as the pair walked out of Mibu. “What do ya want me to say?”

“Are ya gonna pretend there ain’t somethin’ happenin’ between ya?”

Okita rolled his eye, and dropped his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard. “We fucked, Shinpa-chan. Men can fuck without needin’ it to be somethin’.” He signed more dramatically than he needed to.

“Mhmm,” Nagakura replied, “whatever ya say.”

Okita bristled. “What’s that mean?!”

“I like him, but we don’t know anythin’ ‘bout him,” Nagakura continued. “I don’t wanna see either of ya get hurt. You know the rules…”

“Fuck the rules,” Okita replied, waving his hand dismissively. Everyone knew the no fraternizing rule was written because of Takeda anyway.

“Hijikata might not be able to control ya, but what’s he gonna do to Saito if he finds out?”

Okita hesitated at that, his eye narrowing. “He wouldn’t dare…”

A smirk tugged at Nagakura’s lips adding to his smug expression. “So, there is somethin’ between ya.”

“No!” Okita scowled.

Nagakura laughed. “Just be careful, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Shinpa-chan… you worry too much!” Okita sighed. How many times was he going to hear that in one day?

The truth was, Okita hadn’t had interest in much in a very long time. He enjoyed what he did plenty, but things had gotten rather dull around the barracks. That was until Saito Hajime had walked in.

Okita wasn’t above checking out a good-looking individual. Gender never really mattered to him. What did matter was strength, and Hajime demonstrated that well enough. He still craved a second fight, a real fight. The thought alone nearly got his blood pumping. There was nothing more intoxicating than a true fight with a strong opponent. If only Hijikata hadn’t interrupted them. He wanted a true taste of Saito’s strength.

After their fight, he had spent a great deal trying to learn more about the man. A part of that was born from suspicion. He wanted to know where he came from and why he suddenly showed up there. A strong man like him, surely Okita would have heard of him before then… He hadn’t really dug up much, yet, but he knew the man was hiding something. He was just incredibly distracting…

Okita’s eye narrowed in thought. He couldn't figure out what it was that kept drawing him back to Saito like a moth to a flame. It started out with a desire to figure the newcomer out, but he’d quickly discovered just how strong of a pull Saito had on him. Others were even starting to realize it.

Maybe he was getting too close…

With a heavy sigh, Okita pushed the thoughts aside as they approached Ikedaya where he settled in to wait for the raid.

*****

The raid could have gone better.

Saito had gotten to have all the fun only for Katsura to escape in the end. Okita was just disappointed he missed Saito take down Toshimaro. It must have been one hell of a fight considering Toshimaro had knocked Shinpa-chan out.

He sighed and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed as Hijikata addressed the situation. He was hardly paying attention as his thoughts drifted off to what it must have been like to watch Saito fight. He could have been at his side…

It wasn’t until Hijikata referred to another enemy that Okita tuned back in.

A spy, there had been a loyalist spy among them?!

It felt like ice had shot through Okita’s veins at that thought. His head jerked to look at Hijikata as a knot formed in his chest. He didn’t like that his thoughts went straight to Saito, and he was forced to keep a straight face against a wave of emotions he had no business feeling.

Had that been what Inoue was trying to warn him about? Saito would have been the obvious choice, he was the newest one amongst them and one of their targets had escaped under his watch… Though, if that had been the case, surely Inoue would have just told him that…?

No.

Okita refused to let himself jump to conclusions. He’d been following Saito for weeks now. It surely couldn’t be him, he would have seen something. He glanced over at Saito as he listened to Hijikata. A scowl remained fixed on Saito’s face, but his expression gave absolutely nothing away while he looked around the room like the rest of them were. Okita glanced away quickly before anyone could catch him looking.

Relief washed over him a moment later when Todo spoke up accusing Matsubara. However, that relief had been short lived as it was replaced with anger the second Matsubara opened his mouth to blame Saito. Weak, pathetic, coward! How dare Matsubara blame another man for his own actions! It was all Okita could do to keep himself calm despite the blood boiling in his veins. He forced himself to keep up the image of nonchalance, watching the scene unfold before him.

Unexpectedly, it was Inoue that reacted in the end. He had cut Matsubara down without a second thought. Okita was almost disappointed. He had been looking forward to seeing Saito end the coward’s life, but Inoue stole the opportunity away from him, leaving Okita’s mind spinning. Why had Inoue been so quick to defend the man he so desperately tried to keep Okita away from? What secrets had Matsubara known…?

It was too much. Okita couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced so many emotions in mere moments. Had he ever? The night had started out so promising too. How had he ended up so exhausted?

Okita headed for the door, pausing to glance at Inoue, trying to get a read on him. When it became clear he was going to get nothing out of his mentor, he scowled and continued on his way out the door, arms still crossed over his chest.

The cool night air was refreshing when Okita finally stepped outside. His feet carried him away from Inoue, heading down toward the river as his mind was abuzz with thoughts. The adrenaline of the fight had given away to concerning emotions and a renewed curiosity in Saito.

He knew absolutely nothing about the man, so why had he been so quick to defend the third division captain? Why had Inoue? The night had only given him more questions than answers. Who was Saito Hajime? More importantly, why did Okita suddenly care? Was it because they had fucked? That was ridiculous, Okita had taken people to bed in the past, but he had wanted none of them past a night of fun. They had all been a means to satiate a need.

Saito was different.

Why was he different?

Okita sighed, rubbing aggressively at his good eye as if the action would bring him some sense of clarity. All it did was make spots dance across his vision and his mood soured further and he stepped back out onto the path.

A hand caught his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Okita wasn't surprised to come face to face with Saito when he spun around. A spark of adrenaline stirred in him once again, the urge to lash out flaring up before he could stamp it down. He searched Saito’s face through a narrowed eye. "Hajime-chan?"

"What was that back there?" Saito asked, obvious worry in his eyes.

"I should be askin' you that."

Saito was studying him, his eyes narrowed as if he was searching for answers. Then he scowled. “Are you upset with me?”

“Haw?” Okita shook his head, heaving an exasperated sigh. Was he laying it on thick? Maybe a little. “If one more person tries to tell me how I’m feelin’ tonight…”

“I’m not—”

"Keep frownin' like that and yer face will stick."

Saito snorted. "I’m sorry, Okita-san. It has been an odd night..."

The grip on Okita’s wrist loosened before falling away. Okita hadn’t even realized it had still been there until he mourned the loss of his touch. He glanced down at his wrist before meeting Saito’s gaze again, his mind made up.

“I’m sick of thinkin’,” Okita muttered before closing the distance between them. He backed Saito up and out of sight before pressing him up against a wall. He still didn't know what it was about Saito that was so... magnetizing. Everything about the man drew him in. Okita was never one to ignore his impulses. Why should he fight them now?

Okita leaned in close, their lips a breaths width apart. "Could end the night on a high note?" he whispered, allowing Saito to make that decision.

Fingers slipped into Okita’s haori before warm palms were gripping his bare waist, pulling them flush together. Thumbs caressed his skin and Okita shivered under the touch. With the lack of space between them, Okita felt Saito’s answering hum reverberating through his chest.

That was all he needed to hear before their lips crashed together.

Chapter Text

The cool night air was not enough to shock Ryoma out of his near panic as he stumbled out of Ikedaya. His heart was still pounding in his ears, his nerves absolutely frayed. That had been too close of a call and a warning of his own fate if he was to be found out.

Now Nagakura was watching him, his warning was still fresh in his mind. It gave him some small semblance of peace that at least one man in the Shinsengumi was honourable. The Shinsengumi did not deserve Nagakura.

Of course, there was another man Ryoma could not get out of his mind either…

His eyes landed on the retreating figure of Okita and his heart seized. The panic he’d felt finally dissipating, returned with a vengeance. He hadn’t expected a pit to form in his stomach, the cold sense of dread filling him when he had seen Okita walking off. It was an odd feeling. He wasn’t there to make friends and yet… Why did the thought of Okita being mad at him fill him with so much dismay? He was sure the situation with Matsubara had made him seem all the more suspicious, so when Okita had stalked off without so much as a glance back at him, Ryoma knew he had to give chase.

He picked up his pace, practically jogging until he caught up to Okita. Grabbing his wrist to stop the man, Ryoma had fully expected to get punched, but then Okita was kissing him, and the relief that washed over him was immense. That alone should have been concerning, but Ryoma was just too overwhelmed.

The kiss was electrifying. The swirling thoughts in his mind all scattered in an instant and all that remained was his singular focus on the lips brushing against his and on feeling the warmth of Okita pressed flush up against him. It grounded him, finally silencing the anxiety stirring inside him.

Okita kissed him like a man starved, rough and hungry, and full of so much desperation that words would never convey. One hand released the grip he had on Ryoma’s haori to slip up and cradled the nape of his neck, holding Ryoma close.

Ryoma was drowning in the inferno that was Okita Soji. He gripped onto the man’s haori as if he would drift away the second he let go, and he pressed back against him, lips parting as Okita’s tongue teased at them. Then Okita broke the kiss leaving them both breathless.

“Why can’t I get ya outta my head?” Okita growled, breath ghosting over Ryoma’s lips.

Ryoma shivered at that, his words sending molten heat straight to his gut and his heart skipped a beat. “Okita—”

Fiercely kissing him again, Okita silenced any response Ryoma could have made, and just like that Ryoma was drowning all over again. He groaned as Okita deepened the kiss, his tongue finally licking past Ryoma’s lips and pressing into his mouth.

A shiver raced down Ryoma’s spine, heat was rapidly pooling in his gut. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of oxygen or the blood rapidly going south that had him feeling dizzy. He lost track of where they were, all that mattered was the body pressed against his. Ryoma rocked his hips into Okita’s and they both groaned into the kiss.

Suddenly Okita pulled back again, and Ryoma couldn’t help but chase after his lips, dazed at the loss. There was a heat in Okita’s eye that told Ryoma he wanted nothing more than to reach down his hakama right there and then.

So why had he stopped?

"Huh?” Ryoma mumbled, trying to pull Okita back into the kiss. He couldn’t think past the blood rushing south and the desire growing inside him. The kiss had left him reeling.

Okita pressed a warm hand against Ryoma’s heaving chest. He looked more like he was holding himself back than anything else, and Ryoma was sure Okita could feel the frantic beat of his heart as it hammered away beneath Okita’s palm.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Okita mumbled, leaning closer as if he was being pulled back in. His eye had fallen to Ryoma’s lip.

“Bathhouse?” Ryoma didn’t care where so long as he could get his hands on his fellow captain.

“I know a place.” Okita replied, dragging Ryoma off toward Gion before Ryoma had a chance to respond.

Ryoma nearly tripped over his feet as he rushed to keep up with Okita. The man’s hand was wrapped around his wrist, dragging him across the bridge. Gion was always busy at this hour, but the throngs of people parted to make way for the two captains. Even the drunks seemed to stagger out of the way.

They ducked down a narrow alley before popping out in front of what Ryoma assumed was a ryokan. Okita pulled Ryoma inside. He had expected him to stop at the counter to check them in, but Okita led him away and into the back without a word. It was obvious he was familiar with the place. Did Okita stay there often?

They wandered down a long hall that wrapped around the back where Okita finally slid open a door and stepped aside so Ryoma could slip inside first.

The room itself was nothing special. There was a folded-up futon against the wall and a dresser shoved in the corner closest to the doorway. In the back there was an oval shaped bath, big enough for the two of them if they sat across from each other. Steam wafted off the water and Ryoma’s thoughts of desire temporarily quieted in his need for a good bath.

What caught Ryoma’s attention the most, however, were the various objects scattered around the room. Various trinkets lined shelves and discarded clothing lay haphazardly about the floor. This wasn’t just any room.

It was Okita’s room.

“Do you stay here?” Ryoma asked, unable to help himself as he turned to look at Okita.

Okita was preoccupied with carefully placing his weapons on the stand resting on the dresser. When he finished, he turned to Ryoma and reached for his swords as well. Ryoma let him take them before handing over his gun. All were neatly placed by Okita’s own before the man finally spoke.

“Sometimes,” Okita replied with a shrug.

“Bring people here often then?” Ryoma teased, smirking.

“No, never,” Okita said, before sighing at the incredulous look Ryoma knew was written across his own face. “Sometimes I just like the quiet and not havin’ to pal around with a buncha fools.”

Ryoma tried not to read too into that or the fact that Okita was being uncharacteristically quiet since they had stepped into the room. “So, I’m not a fool then?”

With a scoff, Okita closed the distance between them and busied himself with pushing off Ryoma’s haori. The garment fell to the floor before Okita’s fingers dropped to the ties of Ryoma’s hakama. “Yer a fool who is overly dressed.”

Ryoma saw the remark for what it was, Okita deflecting the conversation from himself. So, Ryoma took it easy on him, not pressing any further. “Wouldn’t want the bath to get cold,” he replied, watching as Okita visibly relaxed with the change of subject.

Turning away, Ryoma headed across the room, leaving a trail of clothing in his wake. He could feel Okita's eye on him as he dropped his hakama. Glancing over his shoulder, he met Okita's gaze as he pulled off his fundoshi. "Are you coming? Or are you just gonna watch?" He smirked.

Okita seemed to snap out of the trance at that, hastily tugging his haori off and letting it fall to the floor as he headed further into the room. Ryoma smirked at him before stepping into the bath.

The water was almost too hot, prickling at his skin, but Ryoma wouldn't have it any other way. It soothed his overworked muscles as he sank down into it with a groan, relaxing back against the wall. He was looking forward to stretching himself out once Okita joined him. That was something he didn't have back at the inn or at the farm, the space to stretch out, and he was going to take advantage of it.

The sound of splashing water and a loud hiss told Ryoma that Okita had joined him. "Hot!" Okita yelped and Ryoma snickered and cracked an eye to see him settling in the bath across from him.

"Hmm, feels nice," Ryoma mumbled, finally letting himself relax fully. He stretched himself out, resting his legs across Okita’s lap. It was only then he realized he was still holding on to the tension from earlier, that moment of fear he had almost been found out. If Okita thought poorly of him after that, he wouldn't have brought him here. He wouldn't allow himself to relax in Ryoma's presence.

However, there was still one thing that had left his mind reeling. Inoue. The captain of the Sixth Division clearly knew something. Why else had he attacked Matsubara when the man had been so close to spilling Ryoma’s secrets? What did Inoue know?

"Can I ask you something?" Ryoma asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Hmm?"

"Is Inoue-san..." Ryoma started, watching as Okita opened his eye to look at him. "Is he like a father to you?"

Okita cocked a finely groomed eyebrow. "Haw?"

"I... he just..." Ryoma looked away frowning. He shouldn't have asked, but Okita chuckled.

"I suppose ya could say somethin' like that anyway. He's my mentor," Okita replied. "But he took me and Shinpa-chan in when we were kids." Fingers curled around Ryoma's ankle, but Okita didn't do anything more than rest his hand there as if he just wanted to hold on. "Did he talk to ya too?"

"Huh?"

"To stay away from me?"

“How did…”

“Got the same speech, I figure.”

Okita’s thumb brushed over Ryoma’s skin, and the touch was an odd comfort. Who would have thought he’d be relaxing with the blood thirsty captain of the First Division. The man with such a violent reputation was now sitting there looking more relaxed than he did even when he fell asleep at Teradaya.

Ryoma chuckled, shaking his head. “Careful, I might seduce you.”

Okita let out a shrill laugh at that. “Is that—” He interrupted himself laughing again. “Is that what he said?!” Even after the laughter had settled, the shit eating grin remained present.

“Not in those words,” Ryoma replied with a smirk.

“Go on then,” Okita replied. His hand worked over Ryoma’s calf beneath the water, kneading the muscle. It felt good. “Seduce me.”

Ryoma snorted. “You just want a show.”

“’Course, ever since I watched ya dance…”

Ryoma smirked. He settled back against the wall of the bath, sinking into the steaming water. “Shame, I never did give you that private show.”

“We’re alone now.” There was mischief in Okita’s eyes, lips tugging into a lecherous grin.

“You think I’m getting out of this bath?” Ryoma replied.

“No.” Okita’s head leaned back against the wall, his eye on Ryoma. His hand settled back on Ryoma’s ankle beneath the water, thumb brushing over the prominent bone. “Touch yerself for me.”

Ryoma’s head rolled to the side, his gaze meeting Okita’s. The words sent a shiver through him. The desire from earlier stirred once again and the thought of Okita watching him sent heat straight to his gut.

The water was clear, distorting only if they moved too fast, so Ryoma took his time. He slid his hands up his stomach, watching as Okita’s gaze fell. He flexed and teased his fingers in the grooves carved out by his abdominal muscles with a sigh. As his hands moved higher, Ryoma sat up straighter, arching his back to expose his chest out of the water.  His palms slid up further, rubbing over his own chest with a soft groan. The cool air was enough to make his nipples pebble and he gasped as he brushed his thumbs over the sensitive nubs, arching more.

Okita’s gaze was locked on him. Ryoma could see his throat bob as he swallowed only for his jaw to hang open again. The grip on his ankle tightened and Ryoma wasn’t sure if Okita was even aware he was still holding on.

The effect he was having on Okita only encouraged him further. He could feel himself getting hard as he continued to play with his own chest, cupping himself in his hands and squeezing with a breathy sigh. Pinching his nipples one last time with a groan, he tipped his head back as he dragged his hands back down over his torso.

Okita’s gaze didn’t leave him, Ryoma didn’t need to see him to know he was following his every movement. His hands dipped below the water once again, palms moving down over his stomach and sliding between his legs. Ignoring his half hard cock, he pulled up one leg, spreading his thighs as he squeezed them beneath his palms. The grip on his other ankle remained.

“So pretty, ain’t ya?” Okita finally spoke.

Ryoma shivered at the praise, flushing as it sent a jolt of arousal straight through him. His eyes slid open and he met Okita’s dark gaze, his pupil was so blown it practically engulfed his iris. There was a smirk on Okita’s lips that told Ryoma he knew exactly what the praise had just done to him.

“So good for me,” Okita practically purred and Ryoma shuddered again.

Unable to ignore himself any longer, Ryoma took his cock in hand. He arched slightly, his head bumping back against the wall as he groaned, slowly stroking himself to full hardness under Okita’s heated gaze. He never did like jerking off in the bath. The water eased the friction a little too much for his liking, but in that moment it didn’t matter. He didn’t know why he liked being watched so much, but that dark eye on him sent a jolt of heat straight to his dick. He was hard in no time.

Ryoma moaned, slipping his free hand back up to squeeze his pec, arching into his own touch as he let out a teasing moan of Okita’s name. Fingers teased his own nipple as he slid his eyes back open to look over at Okita.

The man’s eye was dark with obvious interest. He was biting his lip, eye roaming over Ryoma. “Fuck…” he breathed out, dropping his hand beneath the surface of the water and Ryoma knew what he was doing. He still clung to Ryoma’s ankle.

Shifting his position again, Ryoma slid his hand back down his torso and between his legs. He pressed a finger against his hole, teasing the sensitive ring before he began to press it inside himself with a groan. His eyes closed, lips parted as he moaned Okita’s name again.

Okita cursed at that. “Fuckin’ look at ya…”

Ryoma slipped in a second digit before he began fingering himself, curling the fingers inside himself until he found what he was looking for with a low gasp. He continued to press on his prostate, groaning louder. His back arched, his head fell back against the wall with a dull thud. His hand picked up the pace on his cock.

Okita growled. “Get over here.”

Ryoma smirked despite the full body shudder that passed through him. “Thought you wanted—ngh… a-a show?” he replied, though his voice cracked with a moan as he rocked himself onto his own fingers.

“Look at ya, so fuckin’ pretty,” Okita said, his voice breathy. “Fuck what I wanted, I need to touch ya.” He tugged lightly on Ryoma’s ankle.

This time Ryoma went willingly, moving across the small space to straddle Okita’s thighs and he immediately dove in for a kiss, slipping his hand between their bodies to take them both in his hand.

Okita groaned into the kiss, his hands all over Ryoma. They slipped up his sides, before fingers trailed down his back to his ass and he groped him shamelessly.

Moaning into the kiss, Ryoma retaliated, firming up his grip and drawing a moan from Okita’s lips as he jerked them off. He broke the kiss to meet Okita’s gaze, thrusting into his own fist and sliding against Okita’s dick.

Slipping a hand down between them, Okita teased two fingers beneath Ryoma until they were pressed up against his hole, but he didn’t push in yet. He hesitated as if waiting for permission and Ryoma let out a breathy “please” before those fingers were slipping inside, curling in search of that sensitive spot inside Ryoma.

Ryoma let him know the second he found it. With his head thrown back, he moaned loudly as pleasure shot up his spine. He ground himself back on those digits, feeling them press up against his prostate, and he chased after that pleasure.

“That’s it,” Okita breathed out, leaning in to kiss his way up Ryoma’s neck. “Good boy, fuck yourself on my fingers.”

A shudder wracked Ryoma’s body. Okita’s words sent molten heat straight to his gut. He gasped as he continued to rock himself onto those probing digits, slowly starting to roll his hips until he was half fucking himself onto those fingers and half fucking his own fist, his cock sliding against Okita’s with each roll of his hips. “Fuck,” he breathed out, his head falling to the side.

It was overwhelming, his body trembling with pleasure. His eyes rolled back, eyelids falling shut as he chased that feeling. He could feel his orgasm building inside him. The nails of his free hand bit into Okita’s shoulder as he held on for leverage.

Okita kissed his way down Ryoma’s neck, tongue and teeth working over the sensitive skin, determined to mark him and in that moment Ryoma didn’t care. The pain of each bite sent sparks of pleasure through him before the ache was soothed with a swipe of Okita’s tongue.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the two of them. All thoughts of his earlier panic were burned away by the pleasure flowing through his veins, grounded by the feel of Okita all around him.

“Gonna cum,” Okita groaned out, burying his face into Ryoma’s neck. His breath ghosted over Ryoma’s skin, making him shiver again.

“Not yet,” Ryoma breathed out, “I want to see your face as you do.” He felt Okita shudder against him at that.

Dropping his head back against the edge of the tub, Okita looked up at Ryoma through thick lashes, his eyelid fluttering as if threatening to fall shut at any moment. His kiss-abused lips stood out more than usual, deep red against pale skin and parted as he groaned.

Ryoma cupped Okita’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his lower lip as he looked down over him. “Cum for me,” he whispered. His hand picking up the pace as he rocked himself back onto the digits curled inside of him. He could feel his own orgasm building, the tension so close to snapping, but he refused to cum first.

“I—oh fuck…” Okita tensed up beneath him, his head tipped back, eye falling shut as his orgasm overtook him. Ryoma could feel Okita’s cock pulse in his hand, knew he was spilling between their bodies. The look of sheer ecstasy on Okita’s face was going to be his undoing.

Ryoma cursed, desperately rocking his hips now as he ground himself down against Okita’s fingers. His hand kept up the pace, milking Okita for all he was worth until Ryoma’s own orgasm slammed into him. He cried out Okita’s name, his head thrown back, back arching as he spilled into the water, pleasure overwhelming his senses.

They clung to each other as they road out their releases together before they both slumped back into the water, dazed and revealing in the afterglow. Ryoma buried his face into Okita’s neck, leaning heavily against him.

Okita slipped his fingers from Ryoma’s body, wrapping his arms loosely around Ryoma as they rest there quietly for a while. It was Okita who was the first to break the silence, though his voice was so quiet, Ryoma almost didn’t hear him speak.

“Stay?” Okita asked.

There were a million reasons why that was a bad idea, reasons why Ryoma knew he should have said no and fled from that very room, but the second he opened his mouth, not a single one of those reasons came out. Instead, he melted further against Okita.

“Okay.”

Chapter Text

The next morning came all too soon.

Maybe it was the late night. Maybe it was the warm mass currently resting over him snoring. Either way, Ryoma was in no hurry to get up. He had woken in a tangle of limbs and Okita invading as much of his space as he could, spreading out on most of the futon. The first captain was draped over him, head heavy on Ryoma’s chest and… was that drool?

It didn’t matter.

Ryoma was comfortable and warm and content to stay there a while longer. Stifling a yawn, he stretched himself out beneath Okita like a cat with a pleased hum. Then settled back against the futon, fingers slipping into Okita’s loose hair.

Okita grumbled at being jostled but made no move to actually free Ryoma. If anything, he melted further against Ryoma with a pleased hum as fingers gently carded through his hair. “’s too early,” he muttered.

“Hmm, you’re the one that kept us up,” Ryoma replied, unable to stop himself from yawning that time.

“You enjoyed it,” Okita replied. He yawned loudly in response to Ryoma’s.

Ryoma hummed in agreement. He would need to get up soon, but he was content to lay there for now. There would be a lot to do once he left there, check in on Haruka, stop at the Inn for a clean set of clothes. Then head to the barracks to check in with his troop.

He was still no closer to figuring out who the masked man was either. He was going to have to step up his efforts. Maybe it was time to finally seek out the Chief of the Shinsengumi, Kondo Isami.

“Yer thinkin’ too much,” Okita mumbled, interrupting Ryoma’s thoughts. “Too early for thinkin’.”

“Huh?”

“I can hear ya from here.”

“Just about what I have to do today.”

Okita sighed and pushed himself up without looking back at Ryoma. When he spoke, he sounded annoyed, “breakfast then you can flee.”

“That’s not—”

“Mhmm.” The interruption was meant to be dismissive as Okita stretched and started to climb to his feet, but Ryoma wasn’t having it. The idea that Okita thought he was about to just rush off just like that didn’t sit right with Ryoma. If he had wanted to rush off, he would have done so last night.

Ryoma’s hand shot out and fingers curled around Okita’s wrist. Catching the other captain off guard, he pulled Okita back down onto him before rolling them over to pin Okita to the futon. “I was not trying to hurry off.”

There was a storm in Okita’s eye like he was processing too many emotions at once. First, a flash of anger, Ryoma assumed it was from being pulled back. The eye narrowed, glaring back at Ryoma before it softened. Then a look of contemplation, he searched Ryoma’s face as if looking for answers. Finally, he seemed to relax, letting out a soft sigh. His gaze shifted, looking away from Ryoma. “Sure.”

“Unless you want me t—”

“No,” Okita replied a little too quickly, his eye snapping back to Ryoma’s face. “I mean—ugh shut up,” he grumbled when Ryoma chuckled. Slipping a hand into Ryoma’s hair, Okita cupped the back of Ryoma’s head and pulled him down into a kiss, morning breath and all.

“You taste like ass,” Ryoma said when they broke apart, smirking, and Okita burst out laughing.

“Shame we didn’t get to that,” Okita teased. His hand slipped down Ryoma’s back before squeezing his ass.

Ryoma snorted. “Pervert.”

“Haw?! Who’s the one naked?”

“Both of us…”

“Are ya complainin’?!”

“No,” Ryoma replied with a snort. He leaned down to kiss Okita again, drawn back in before he could remember the reason he wasn’t kissing him in the first place. “No, still taste like ass!”

Okita let out a shrill laugh, but Ryoma distracted him, kissing his way down his jaw to his neck. The sound of Okita’s breath hitching was loud in Ryoma’s ear as his teeth grazed over Okita’s pulse point.

Fingers found their way into Ryoma’s hair again, still free from its tie and mussed from sleep. Ryoma groaned as nails scraped against his scalp when he sucked a bruise into Okita’s neck, determined to leave a mark before soothing it with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Okita groaned out, his head rolling to the side for Ryoma’s traveling lips, shuddering beneath him. “Thought ya had somewhere to be, Hajime-chan?” It was meant to be teasing, but Okita’s voice cracked on a moan and he arched up against Ryoma.

Ryoma lifted his head, looking down at him.

Free from its tie, Okita’s black hair was splayed out over the pillow, begging Ryoma to run his fingers through it. The silky strands flowed through his digits until his grip tightened and red lips parted on a gasp. Ryoma bit his own lip, resisting the urge to kiss him again as his eyes drifted up. The tsuba Okita wore as a makeshift eyepatch was still in place and Ryoma wondered how he managed to sleep in it, but the thought was quickly driven from his mind as he met the heated gaze of Okita’s good eye.

Something had shifted between them. Okita had gone from outright hostile, to seemingly drawn to Ryoma the way Ryoma was drawn to him. Ryoma knew he shouldn’t have been doing this, but he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to stop either.

No…

Ryoma wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted this, whatever this was between them even though he knew he shouldn’t. They barely knew anything about each other, something they would have to talk about eventually. For now, though, for now he just wanted to be there in the moment.

Their lips met again, this time the taste didn’t deter Ryoma. The kiss was fierce, conveying the hunger and desperation they both must have felt because Okita responded just as passionately. Lips parted eagerly for Okita’s teasing tongue, and Ryoma groaned as it licked into his mouth.

Heat was quickly pooling in Ryoma’s gut, but he hadn’t realized he was already hard until Okita shifted beneath him and the momentary friction made him shudder. His answering moan was swallowed up by the kiss.

Okita drew his knees up, squeezing his thighs against Ryoma’s hips. The movement caused their cocks to slide together and they moaned in unison. The kiss broke and Okita arched beneath him again, head tipping back as Ryoma rocked his hips down against him.

“Don’t stop,” Okita groaned out. His hands slid up Ryoma’s back, holding on as if Ryoma would dare pull away now.

Ryoma picked up the pace, rocking himself against Okita, his breath caught in his throat as their cocks slid together with each thrust. Each drag of skin against skin had Okita moaning breathlessly. Nails dug into Ryoma’s shoulder as the other man writhed beneath him, hips rocking back.

Burying his face into Okita’s neck, Ryoma let out a shaky breath, thrusting his hips against Okita, chasing after the growing pleasure. He could feel his cock pulse, pre-cum drooling from the tip that helped ease the friction, making his movements slicker, faster.

“Fuck yes,” Okita groaned out. “Ngh, bite me.”

Ryoma shuddered, teasing his tongue up Okita’s neck before he did just that, biting down on the tender flesh and tearing a loud moan from Okita’s lips. He bit down until he knew it would leave a mark before pulling back and soothing his tongue over the indents left by his teeth.

Okita trembled beneath him. His palms slid down over Ryoma’s back coming to rest on his ass. They squeezed, blunt nails digging into the meat of Ryoma’s ass as he ground himself up against him.

Ryoma pressed himself up onto one elbow, glancing down to watch as their cocks slid together, both drooling onto Okita’s stomach. He rolled his hips, thrusting against him quicker now and he groaned, feeling the building tension in his gut already. It felt too good, his toes curling in pleasure. He fisted the sheet.

“Ngh see what ya do to me?” Okita groaned out, arching his back to press up against Ryoma. He griped onto Ryoma’s ass, practically pulling him into each movement. “Get me so fuckin’ hard it aches.”

A jolt of arousal shot down Ryoma’s spine, it was electric, making him shudder. He slipped a hand down, gripping onto Okita’s hip as he picked up the pace, desperately chasing that pleasure. “A-ahh, want you inside me,” he groaned out, feeling Okita shiver.

“Oils—fuck, there!” Okita’s hand flopped to the side, pointing at the small table thankfully next to the futon.

Ryoma barely had to move to reach it. He sat up, straddling Okita’s thighs as he reached over and removed the top of a small jar. His fingers dipped inside before he pulled back, the clove oil running down his palm. He took Okita’s cock in a firm grip, hurriedly coating him in the slick liquid with each stroke.

Okita groaned. “What about you?”

“Don’t need it.”

“Are ya s—”

“Yes.” Ryoma left him no time to worry further as he shuffled up Okita’s body, lining himself up with his cock before he began lowering himself onto it. His breath hitched as the blunt head pressed against his hole. He knew he should have let Okita stretch him, but he was too impatient. The arousal burning through him was enough to keep him relaxed as Okita began to stretch him open.

Hands gripped Ryoma’s hips, blunt nails biting into the skin as Okita rocked up into Ryoma. He moaned loudly as Ryoma’s tight heat engulfed him, and Ryoma threw his head back as he sank down on him, settling only once Okita was buried inside him.

Resting his palms on Okita’s chest, Ryoma settled in his lap, hips slowly rocking as he let himself adjust to the intrusion. He didn’t dare move yet, afraid if he did, it would end far too soon. He was already wound up so tightly. “So full,” he groaned out. His hands pressed onto Okita’s pecs, using them for leverage as he started to move, lifting himself nearly off Okita’s cock before he sank back down onto it with a groan.

Okita’s hands were all over him, searing a path up his sides before blunt nails grazed down his back. They teased over the curve of Ryoma’s ass before squeezing, kneading the thick flesh. Then fingers teased between the cleft, seeking to feel where the two men were joined, where Ryoma was currently stretched around his cock.

Ryoma shuddered, letting out a breathy moan as he felt the teasing digits at his stretched rim. He leaned back, resting his hands on Okita's thighs for support as he began to move faster now, hips rolling every time he sank down onto Okita's cock. He spread his knees wider, watching Okita’s gaze hungrily run down his body. The new position would let him watch as Ryoma speared himself on his cock.

Throwing his head back, Ryoma’s hair tumbled over his shoulder. His eyes closed in pleasure as he fucked himself on Okita's cock. His grip tightened on the other man's thighs, nails biting into skin as his hips rolled, slamming himself down to meet Okita's desperate thrusts. His cock bounced, hard and heavy, between his legs, weeping heavily onto Okita's stomach. His thighs protested, the muscles burning with use, but he didn’t care.

"Soji..." he sighed out in ecstasy, his back arching.

Okita's hands continued their path up Ryoma's torso, fingers dancing over the grooves of his abs as they slid up to his pecs, palms flat against slick skin. He squeezed the flesh, tearing a groan from Ryoma's lips.

"Look at me," Okita groaned out.

Sparks of pleasurable pain followed the drag of nails back down Ryoma's torso before Okita’s hands gripped powerful thighs, purposely ignoring Ryoma's twitching cock, flushed an angry red from neglect. Ryoma almost didn’t hear him at first, too drunk off pleasure.

"Look at me," Okita repeated, nails digging into the meat of Ryoma’s thighs to help ground him.

With a gasp, he pushed himself back up.  His eyes slid open, heavily lidded and dark as he looked down at Okita. His lips parted on a breathless moan. His hair tumbled over his shoulder as he continued to bounce on his dick.

“Gorgeous,” Okita whispered, almost too quiet for Ryoma to hear, but the praise made him shudder.

Heat was quickly pooling in Ryoma’s gut again, the coil of tension growing ever tighter as he neared his release. He moaned out a warning, “ngh gonna cum…”

“Yes, fuckin’ cum on me,” Okita groaned out. His hands were still kneading Ryoma’s thighs. “I’m so fuckin’ close.”

“Gonna make a mess of you,” Ryoma replied, voice strained and breathless. His hips rocked faster as he felt the build up of heat inside him, the tension so close to snapping. He slipped a hand between his thighs, taking his drooling cock in hand as he jerked himself off.

Okita was the first to cry out, head thrown back, back arching off the futon as he moaned loudly. Ryoma felt Okita’s cock pulse as he spilled inside of him. It didn’t take much more to send Ryoma over the edge too with a breathy moan, his body tensing up. Thick ropes of cum shot out across Okita’s torso with each pulse of his cock. Ryoma could barely keep his eyes open, watching as he painted Okita’s chest with his spend, shuddering in ecstasy.

Gradually, Ryoma stilled his hips, taking a moment to revel in the feeling before he moved off Okita and flopped down beside him. His eyes slipped shut as he bathed in the afterglow, still trembling and trying to catch his breath. His thighs ached, but he felt too good to care.

“Fuck…”

“Mhmm…”

They laid there a while in silence. Ryoma had almost dozed off again when he heard Okita climbing to his feet. He cracked an eye to watch him head over to the bath. He grabbed a cloth and began to clean himself up. Once he finished, he grabbed another cloth, dipping it into the water before tossing it at Ryoma.

Ryoma grumbled as the cloth hit him in the chest with a wet smack, but he was grateful regardless. He quickly cleaned himself up before tossing it back in Okita’s direction. The other captain laughed and dove back onto the futon, flopping over Ryoma.

“I should tie ya up, keep ya here if that’s how mornings go.”

Ryoma laughed. “In your dreams.”

Okita sighed happily. “And such nice dreams they are. You naked, tied up, screaming my name as—”

There was a tap at the door. “Okita-san,” a feminine voice called through from outside the room. “Your breakfast is here.”

Ryoma huffed, tugging the blanket over himself as Okita got up and tugged his yukata on. He barely closed it before sliding the door open to allow their breakfast to be brought in.

It wasn’t long before they were both settled back on the futon, digging into their meals. Ryoma leaned back against the wall, poking at his food as he got lost in thought. It was amazing how good he felt in that moment, sitting there beside Okita. He could almost forget the reason for him being there in Kyo. There was still the chance that Okita could be the masked man, but the more time he spent with him, the more he didn’t believe that was true.

Or was it just that he hoped it wasn’t true…?

Ryoma sighed softly. What would Okita think of him if he found out the truth? Would he hate him then? Ryoma’s heart clenched at the thought, a painful twinge in his chest. Surely it wouldn’t go over well…  

“Oi, where ya at Hajime-chan?”

A hand waving in Ryoma’s face made him jump and he glanced over at Okita. He shook the bad thoughts off and smirked, bumping his shoulder into Okita’s. “Was just thinking.”

“Broodin’ more like.”

Ryoma snorted and shook his head. He wasn’t going to let those thoughts ruin the good start to the day. That would be tomorrow’s problem. He grinned back at Okita before tearing into his food.

Chapter Text

The sun was high in the sky, casting its bright light over the Shinsengumi training grounds. Most of the troopers had taken a break from their training to enjoy some leisure time after a long morning of training.

Okita couldn’t relate. He’d had a late start to the day thanks to a certain third captain, not that he was complaining. Or that he could blame Saito at all, really. He was never a morning person. At least that morning he’d had a good reason to wake early and start the day late…

When Okita closed his eyes, he could practically still feel the heat of Hajime-chan pressed up against him as they rutted against each other. His only regret that morning was letting that man out of his bed because now?

Now, Okita was bored out of his fucking mind and Saito was nowhere to be seen!

He slumped forward, elbow resting on the table as his chin rest against his fist. He just couldn’t get his mind on the game of mahjong before him. Shame really since he used to love wiping the floor with their subordinates and, most importantly, pissing Takeda off.

Try as he might to stop it, his mind kept wandering back to the image of Saito that morning… Hair spilling free over his shoulder, thick strands begging for Okita’s fingers to run through it. He regretted not taking that chance when he had it. Would Hajime-chan moan as he pulled it?

His thoughts shifted then to the way Saito had thrown his head back, kiss-abused lips parted as such erotic sounds escaped. Saito hadn’t even tried to muffle them this time as he took his pleasure on Okita’s dick. A shiver shot down his spine at the memory.

Fuck, he wanted more.

Hajime-chan had been quite the sight. Chest heaving, powerful muscles writhing under glistening skin as he moved. Gorgeous. And the way he stretched around Okita’s aching—

“Yo, Okita, get yer head in the game!”

Okita growled, shooting a murderous glare at Takeda as the other captain interrupted his thoughts. Even if it was for the best, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still be angry about it. “Oi, I can beat yer ass with my eye closed!”

“Wanna bet on it?” Takeda sneered, leaning in close.

Okita pulled away, instantly repulsed by the way Takeda leered at him. He scowled. “The only thing I want from ya, is yer ryo!”

Takeda burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the yard. “Why? You gonna take the lady you bed last night out for a nice meal?”

“Haw?!”

“Seems she left her mark on ya,” Takeda replied, pointing at Okita’s neck as he laughed loudly again. Resting his arm on his thigh, he leaned in towards the first captain, closer this time. His eyes narrowed as he studied Okita. “Or was it a man?” His grin turned lecherous.

“Ugh!” Okita scowled, shoving Takeda out of his space. How had he managed to forget the mark Saito had left on his neck? He had practically begged for it. Another thing he hadn’t thought through. “None of yer fuckin’ business.”

Takeda sneered before turning back to look at the two men sitting across from them. The two subordinates sat nearly naked on the other side of the table, nervously looking between the two captains.

Boring!

With a heavy sigh, Okita’s gaze drifted away to look for Saito yet again. He hadn’t seen the man since they had parted ways that morning and couldn’t help wondering where he was now. Hajime-chan was nothing if not punctual. His troopers were still here which meant he wasn’t on patrol.

Was he avoiding Okita again?

No.

He decidedly did not like the feeling that trail of thought invoked, a tightness in his chest, a flash of hurt he had no business feeling. No. He was not going down that path right now. Or ever.

They were just having fun, that’s all. He was not getting attached.

Glaring back at the game, Okita reached out and snatched a discarded tile that matched ones he currently had before discarding a useless one in its place. He only needed one more to make his last set, but the triumph didn’t have the same feel as it did normally. He sighed, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to enjoy it.

The sound of footsteps in the dirt drew his attention away from the game yet again, straight to the man currently plaguing his thoughts. Saito looked troubled as he approached, a frown affixed to his face like he was lost in thought.

“Wassup, Hajime-chan? Ya doin’ alright?” Okita piped up. Sitting up straighter as the third captain approached.

Saito’s expression softened for a moment as his eyes landed on Okita, but he scowled a moment later as his gaze shifted to Takeda and then the two troopers who were still very nearly nude at this point. His frown deepened as he glanced between Okita and the two subordinates.

Ohoho! Was that jealousy on Hajime-chan’s face? Okita was suddenly very interested in the third captain’s sudden appearance. His eye narrowed, scrutinizing him.

A sigh left Saito’s lips as he finally met Okita’s gaze again. “Eh, I’m sorry. Looking for the chief. He here?”

“No clue! Who knows with that guy?” Okita deflated at that. There was no denying his disappointment, he had hoped Saito was looking for him. Of course he wasn’t. He turned back to look at the game, but he could still feel Saito’s eyes on him.

Takeda scoffed. “Hey, yer distractin’ me! Piss off if ya ain’t playin’! Unless yer ready to lose those skivvies.”  He turned and very obviously checked Saito out, eyes roaming down over Saito’s body before glancing back up at the third captain’s face with a lecherous grin.

This time jealousy flared in Okita, white hot and full of rage. Stupid, honestly. Saito was free to do what—and who—he wanted. He didn’t owe Okita his time. It didn’t mean Okita had to like it though.

Takeda?! The thought made him sick.

Okita grit his teeth until his jaw ached to stop himself from lunching at Takeda. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. That was the exact reason why fraternization was banned amongst the captains. For a long time, he’d thought himself above that… Turned out, he wasn’t.

“No, I’ll be going,” Saito said abruptly. A look of sheer disgust was painted across his face that soothed Okita’s jealous rage just a bit. “Okita…”

Okita looked up to see Saito nod toward the gate before he started walking off. An invitation that he had no desire to pass up. He didn’t need to be told twice, but he couldn’t leave without at least finishing the round. With haste, he drew his last tile and, it seemed, luck was on his side. A triumphant grin spread across his face. It was the just the tile he needed to complete his last set.  After discarding his useless one, he slammed the rest of the tiles down on the table with more force than necessary. “Ha! I win!”

“Later, losers!” he announced, not waiting around to hear their complaints. He scrambled to his feet and chased after Saito who had barely made it to the gate. “Oi, Hajime-chan, wait up!”

The third captain glanced over his shoulder, smirking. For a brief moment, Okita thought he would keep going, but then Saito slowed his steps until Okita caught up and fell into step beside him.

“Where we goin’?”

Saito held up a stuffed furoshiki. “Made us both bentos, figured we could go eat.”

“You made…” Okita’s step faltered as he processed what Saito said. A toothy grin spread across his face. “Hajime-chan, ya got a crush on me or somethin’?”

Saito snorted, but he was smirking. “It’s the least I could do after you treated me to breakfast.”

“Early mornin’ di—”

“You finish that sentence and I will give this bento to Nagakura.”

Okita cackled loudly.

They fell back into step together as Saito led them off and away from the barracks, seemingly intent on finding them a quiet place to enjoy a meal together. They continued back to Rakunai, weaving around civilians that stumbled into their path.

“So, yer lookin’ for the chief?” Okita asked.

Saito shrugged. “I haven’t met him yet. I feel I ought to meet the man who leads us.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Okita replied.

Despite the act he kept up, Okita liked to think he was smart, smarter than most people gave him credit for at least. He knew when someone was hiding things from him, but how did he broach that topic when he had his own secrets, secrets that weren’t his alone to tell. He’d suspected it from the start when Saito had first stumbled into the barracks and Inoue’s nagging hadn’t helped matters.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Saito said.

Drawn out of his thoughts by the observation, Okita glanced over to find the other man watching him closely. “Just thinkin’.”

Saito frowned.

“What?”

The third captain shook his head. “Never mind.” He led them down to the river, finding them a dry place for them both to sit and eat.

Okita sat down beside him, leaning back on his arms as he looked out over the water until Saito handed him a bento and chopsticks. He happily sat back up, snatching it from Saito, who chuckled at him. The delicious aroma of food hit him the second he popped the lid off to find the bento consisted of onigiri, fried fish, white rice, and grilled vegetables all neatly arranged. It wasn’t anything he was expecting, and it looked good.

“You made this?” he asked, unable to hide the awe in his voice.

“Hm? Yes,” Saito replied before digging into his.

Picking up his chopsticks, Okita couldn’t help staring at it in awe. He couldn’t remember anyone going out of their way to make somethin for him aside from Nagakura, but that was different. He didn’t know what to say so he dug in instead with a pleased groan.

Who knew Hajime-chan could cook?!

“Fuck, gonna make ya my wife,” Okita mumbled through a mouthful of food as he shovelled it into his mouth.

Saito choked on his rice, coughing into his arm while Okita grinned at him. He shot a glare at Okita which only made him laugh loudly before they both went back to eating in silence. Saito was the first one to break it.

“What was it about me that caught your attention, hm?” Saito asked, but when Okita shot him a quizzical look, he elaborated. “When we first met, at try outs.”

Okita hummed in though, lowering his chopsticks. “Most woulda pissed themselves the second I raised my blade. Not you though, no, there wasn’t an ounce of fear in your eyes.” Okita smirked at the memory. “But there was defiance. Strength. I had to know ya.”

Saito snorted. “By pissing me off?”

“If I couldn’t make ya fear me, I had to try something else.” Okita grinned at him before taking another bite of his food.

“Is that why you slept with me then?”

It was Okita’s turn to nearly choke on his food. He spluttered, knocking himself on the chest with his fist as he coughed. “No!” he wheezed out.

Saito was smirking.

“Oh, yer fuckin’ with me!” Okita snorted, knocking his shoulder against Saito who laughed.

“Well, if you insist on making me your wife, do I get to know a little more about you at least?” Saito asked, laughing.

Wife.

It had been a joke, one he started, but Okita couldn’t deny the fact he wanted to get closer to Saito and that was a problem. It dawned on him then, something that made him flinch inwardly, there was nothing he could say about his past. Not even a small hint he could give without risking exposing himself as a fake. As a man forced to live under another man’s name.

He had answers he could give, rehearsed ones about what he knew of the tale of Okita Soji. But none of it felt right now. How was he supposed to get close to someone when that could expose everything…

“Okita…?”

Okita had frozen with his chopstick midway to his lips. He lowered them then, looking out over the water. He couldn’t look at Saito. This was the reason he had never let himself get close to anyone.

And yet…

How had he managed to let his guard down so easily around the other man? He’d lived his life just fine until Saito showed up. All his plans to get the man to crack, not only had they failed, but they had backfired spectacularly.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Saito said with a heavy sigh. There he was, being nice again, giving Okita an out.

Okita rubbed at the tightness in his chest as if that would ease the panic. He didn’t like this feeling, the swirl of emotions that made his heart seize. He didn’t do this. He didn’t get attached to people. The emotions inside him just left him feeling raw, exposed.

Weak…

He couldn’t do this.

“I forgot… somethin’, gotta go,” Okita replied. He set the bento down between them and climbed to his feet. He could hear Saito calling after him, but he ignored him as he stalked off, doing his best to wall off his emotions.

Blood was rushing in Okita’s ears, his chest still felt tight. He felt anxious, his skin crawling with the nervous energy. This was why he didn’t do this. Why he didn’t get attached to people. He had his kyoudai and his mentor, that was enough. He didn’t need anyone else.

What he needed was a distraction. What better way to clear his head than by adding a new trophy to his haori? Bloodlust called to him, the need for a good fight had his feet carrying him across the bridge and into Mukurogai. He just needed to clear his head and then he could go back to figuring out who Saito Hajime was and why he’d managed to wedge his way into Okita’s life.

*****

By the time Okita had arrived back at the barracks later that afternoon, his haori had gained a few new trophies, his face new bruises, and his lip a new cut, but his mind was blissfully emptier.

That was until he saw Saito talking to Inoue. His eye narrowed at the two as he crept around, trying to remain unseen as he listened in to their conversation. Why was his mentor giving Saito another mission?

And who was this Sakamoto Ryoma…?

Okita froze the second Saito glanced over and their eyes met. He saw concern in Saito’s gaze before he quickly masked it with a scowl. Saito immediately turned and stalked off, and Okita sighed. Better Hajime-chan be mad at him then. It would be easier that way.

He turned and headed off to his quarters before Inoue could stop him, intending to polish his swords, but of course Nagakura wouldn’t let him have a moment of peace. “Not now, Shinpa-chan,” Okita sighed.

“Admit it, ya like ‘im.”

“No.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

Okita slammed his hand down on the dresser. It stung, but he refused to let it show as he glared at Nagakura. “Y’know exactly what’s wrong with that. We can’t ever get close to anyone, so why bother?”

“Because yer allowed to live, Soji.”

“Drop it.” Okita turned away and busied himself with removing his swords, placing them carefully on the dresser.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen ya show interest in anyone,” Nagakura continued, like Okita didn’t have a reason for that. “Why not let yerself explore it?”

“We know nothin’ about him,” Okita replied as if that explained anything. He knew it was a poor excuse.

“So, get to know ‘im!”

Okita’s eye narrowed as he glared at Nagakura. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He opened his mouth to tell him to drop it again, but the gears in his mind slowly turned and it suddenly clicked. “Get to know him.” Then he could find a reason why they wouldn’t work.

Right…?

Nagakura sighed loudly. “What’re ya plottin’?”

“I’m just gonna follow him a bit,” Okita replied as he stood up and began digging around in his dresser for his regular clothes. It would help him blend in better. “Figure out what he needs Kondo for.”

“Soji…”

“No, no, no, yer right. I’ll get to know him.” Okita proceeded to strip himself down before tugging on his plain clothes. It  was easier to sneak around when he didn’t stand out in bloodstained blue. “Then I can prove to ya why there is nothin’ between us.”

Nagakura snorted, shaking his head. “Ya took the man to bed. The only thing ya have to prove is to yerself.”

“Haw?”

“Yer covered in marks.”

Okita threw his discarded hakama at Nagakura. “Shut up.”

"Just be careful, Soji."

"This again... Do y’know somethin' or not?"

Nagakura shrugged. "Just that he's not tellin' us the full story, but… neither are we.”

“And I’m gonna find out why.”

*****

Later that evening as he stepped out of Asahi into the cool night air, Okita had his answer. His eye narrowed as it landed on the retreating form of Saito Hajime. Except Saito Hajime wasn’t who he said he was. He was none other than Sakamoto Ryoma, and he was after Inoue, he just didn’t know it yet.

Okita couldn’t blame the man for going by an alias. He’d be a hypocrite if he did, but he couldn’t stand by and let him go after Inoue either. He didn’t quite know how to process the information yet, but he had an idea…

With a smirk, Okita spun on his heel and headed back to the barracks. He had a lot of planning to do before he saw Hajime-chan next, but one thing was certain…

He would get that fight he craved after all.

Chapter Text

The sounds of birds chirping drifted into the room with the soft, morning breeze. The shoji panels had been opened, letting the sun filter in. It brightened the room up enough to see from where Ryoma sat at his writing desk.

Staring out into the daylight, Ryoma was lost in his thoughts.

A couple days had passed since he had last spoken with Okita. Ironically, it seemed the first captain was the one avoiding him now. The rejection hadn’t sat well with Ryoma, leaving a heaviness inside him that he didn’t know how to process. Okita had gone out of his way to involve himself in Ryoma’s daily activities, always showing up when Ryoma least expected it. He’d grown accustomed to the other’s presence. Now it made his absence all the more noticeable.

He could have sworn they had been getting closer too. After Okita had invited him back to his room, how relaxed he’d been in Ryoma’s presence. He couldn’t figure out what could have gone wrong.

Then again, maybe this was for the best.

This was what he’d wanted from the start, wasn’t it? For Okita to leave him alone. He had a task to do after all, one he still hadn’t made much headway on aside from ruling out Kondo. He didn’t have time for romance. All it had done was cloud his judgement, distract him.

He still hadn’t ruled Okita out…

Ryoma sighed heavily, finally looking down at the Shinsengumi Captain Registry before him. There was no use in moping around. He needed to get back to it, figure out a new approach. Reaching for the calligraphy brush, he crossed Kondo’s name off the list, narrowing it down to 4.

“Hajime-san, good morning! Rise and shine!”

Ryoma’s head instantly whipped to the door before he scrambled back to his feet and snatched the registry off the desk. There was just enough time to throw himself down onto the futon, his back to the shoji door so his body hid the registry.

The door slid open and he glanced over his shoulder to greet Oryo, hoping she couldn’t see what he was hiding least he blow his cover.

“Oh, you’re actually awake?” she asked, hesitating in the doorway.

“The crows got too noisy again…” Pushing himself up onto an elbow, he scratched his face. “Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

She hummed in reply. “Oh, I haven’t seen your friend with you lately.”

“Hm?”

“The man with the filthy haori.” She made a face of disgust.

Ryoma almost laughed, would have if it wasn’t for the twinge in his chest that made him flinch. He sighed heavily. “We had a falling out…”

“Are you okay?” Oryo asked.

Ryoma gave her a reassuring smile, though he was sure it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yes, just wish I knew what it was about.” He shrugged, sounding more confident than he felt.

Oryo wasn’t convinced, frowning. “Are you sure?”

Ryoma sighed. “I didn’t join up to make friends.” Or lovers. He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

She was still frowning, but he was grateful she chose to drop it. “Ah, okay. Well, breakfast is ready.”

As soon as the door was closed, Ryoma glanced back over the registry, his eyes lingering on Okita’s name before he finally got up to start the day.

*****

When Ryoma strolled into the barracks later that morning, he had not expected Okita to be waiting for him. His eyes narrowed, already on guard. Some part of him felt relieved to see the first captain, but the other part was too hurt to care.

He scowled, but he bit his tongue. He wasn't about to say something where anyone could listen in.

“There ya are, Hajime-chan!” Okita called, standing up. So, he really had been waiting for him? Why now then, after two days of silence?

The scowl on Ryoma’s face deepened. “Okita, what’s going on?”

Okita walked down the steps and over to meet Ryoma. “Got some info for ya. Somethin’ juicy!”

Something was off, Ryoma couldn’t place it, but something didn’t feel right. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut. Or maybe he was just tied up in knots from not knowing where they stood. He didn’t know what he had expected. An apology? An explanation? No of course not. Why would he get that?

Did he even have a right to be mad?

“Don’t gimme that mean mug, Aw, you!” Okita said making Ryoma aware of the fact he was glaring. “Meet me in the warehouse.”

“We can’t talk out here?” Ryoma asked.

“I wanna keep it cozy. Me an’ you, Hajime-chan. See ya!” Okita said, walking off before Ryoma had a chance to question him further.  

Then you should have thought of that before you left, Ryoma thought. What did he want now? Because if Okita thought Ryoma was going to sleep with him again after avoiding him for two days…

No… Something told Ryoma that wasn’t the case. What information could he possibly have that Ryoma would want? He supposed there was only one way he was going to find out.

With yet another heavy sigh, Ryoma turned and headed for the warehouse.

As it turned out, Okita only wanted to meet to discuss a mission he had for Ryoma. All the dramatics were just to ask him to team up and go after Sengoku Toranojo, a wealthy kimono hawker in a palace full of shishi.

Something still didn’t feel right. Okita was acting strange. In front of the others, it made sense, but in private…? It was like Okita had closed Ryoma out entirely. Like nothing had happened between them and Ryoma felt he was being kept at a distance. It hurt, but it angered Ryoma too. If Okita regretted their time together, he would rather Okita just say so, not act like it never happened. That was just cruel.

Ryoma would have turned the mission down, should have turned it down, but Okita didn’t give him much of a choice. Something wasn’t right and Ryoma feared if he didn’t show up Okita was going to either get into trouble or cause it…

“Okita, wait!” Ryoma said, turning to watch Okita hesitate at the door. He didn’t look back, but he turned his head, a sign he was listening. “Why are you acting weird all of a sudden?”

Okita snorted. “I’ll see ya later, Hajime-chan,” he replied, before slipping out the door.

*****

Later that night, Ryoma met Okita and his division at the gate.

After a brief exchange of words, they stormed into Sengoku’s palace together, splitting up once inside. Okita and his troopers fought off the loyalists while Ryoma chased Sengoku deeper into the gaudy mansion.

It was a tough fight to get to him, but Ryoma managed to corner Sengoku in the end. The kimono hawker turned out to be a pathetic, weasel of a man. He'd say anything to talk his way out of a situation, selling out loyalists to get in with the Bakufu. He just didn't shut up and Ryoma was feeling more and more uneasy by the second.

It didn’t help that Okita was being unusually quiet. From the moment he’d joined Ryoma, Okita just stared ahead, refusing to answer anything Ryoma asked with more than a few words. He seemed distant, refusing to even look at Ryoma for that matter. The only thing Okita seemed to react to, was the mention of Kamo and an offhand comment about his looks. He just stood there, staring ahead as he let Sengoku carry on rambling anyway. It wasn't like him at all.

There was a sinking feeling that left Ryoma’s chest feeling incredibly tight. He knew he was missing something as he tried to make sense of what the kimono hawker was saying, but the next words out of Sengoku mouth made his blood run cold.

"I didn't just sell out a bunch of shishi... I sold you out too, Saito Hajime-han!"

“What?!” Ryoma demanded, looking between the two men. Okita still hadn’t looked at him once, just stared ahead, eerily quiet.

“Hey, Okita-han, you ever gonna let the cat outta the bag? I’m dyin’ to know! Why’d ya ask me to lure this guy out here?” Sengoku asked.

Ryoma scowled, his gaze still on Okita.

“Ya really can waggle that tongue of yours, can’tcha?” Okita said, finally moving for the first time the entire conversation. He walked forwards towards Sengoku as he spoke, appearing to be oddly calm. When he came to a stop before the stuttering man, he raised his sword high with a bored air about him. He stood there, staring Sengoku down as if he was daring him to say more.

Ryoma shouted Okita’s name, trying to stop him from acting, but it was too late.

“How ‘bout you shuddup?!” Okita growled, before slicing clean across Sengoku’s torso. The man staggered forward in shock before collapsing dead to the floor, and Ryoma demanded answers.

“Ain’t ya been told? Nobody brings up Kamo,” Okita said, a vacant note in his voice like he was miles away. His back was still to Ryoma. The entire time they had been there, Okita had refused to look at the other captain. “Shinsengumi’s unspoken law. Had no choice, ya know?”

Ryoma frowned, he didn’t know what to say. He was struggling to read Okita, especially with him seemingly refusing to look at him.

“Now then, Sengoku-han did have one good question. If yer curious, I could fill ya in.” Okita finally turned around then, but his gaze remained unfocused looking off to the side. “Why’re you here? I’ll tell ya, if ya ask nicely.”

“Why’d you have Sengoku lure me here?”

When Okita finally looked up, Ryoma knew why the other man had been avoiding his gaze. There was a storm of emotions flickering across his face, hurt, sorrow, anger. Ryoma wanted to go to him, but when Okita shook his head, they were gone, replaced by a mask of indifference.

Okita stepped forward, raising his sword and pointing it at Ryoma. “This is why.”

“What are you doing?” Ryoma demanded. He searched Okita’s face for answers, but whatever turmoil he’d thought he’d seen in Okita’s expression was gone, locked away behind anger.

“Showin’ ya how we deal with traitors, Mr. Tosa Loyalist Rep…” Okita growled. “Sakamoto Ryoma-chan!”

It took every ounce of Ryoma’s willpower to not flinch, not to let his emotions show. Deep down he’d known it was coming. He’d known it was a possibility his identity would be discovered, but that didn’t make the panic that shot through him any easier to bare.

Schooling his emotions, Ryoma glared, not trusting himself to talk.

“Yep. I’ve known since the day ya bumbled into the tryouts,” Okita continued. “Hajime-chan, you came to Kyo to find your masked man, right?”

“Why would you know that?” Ryoma demanded. A coldness began to settle in his chest, dismay wrapping its icy claws around his heart. His mind was trying to rationalize what he was hearing, but denial was refusing to let him accept it.

It couldn't be....

The deep scowl remained as Ryoma tried to wrap his head around it. It couldn't be Okita, could it? Had Okita played him this whole time? Slept with him knowing who he was from the start? The thought repulsed him. Okita might be a dick, but never like that…

Okita laughed coldly. “Well, that’s because yer lookin’ right at him.”

The confession shock Ryoma to the core. It felt like the air was sucked from his lungs. His grip tightened on his katana, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Okita. There was no way it could be true... He clenched his jaw, swallowing back the knot in his throat.

Okita lifted his sword, resting the pommel against his open palm. “Well? Your memory good and runnin’ yet?”

“You’re saying that was you…?” Ryoma looked aside as the memories of the fight a year ago ran through his mind. He simply refused to believe the masked man could be Okita. Why… why come out with it now? Not from the start?

It wasn’t him.

It couldn’t be.

“Yoshida Toyo,” Okita continued, “I still remember how it felt, cuttin’ him down!”

Anger flared inside Ryoma then, a rage fuelled by a deep hurt. Whipping his katana forward, he raised it into a fighting stance with a growl of Okita’s name. Whatever he had thought was going on between them, had Okita really played him the whole time?

“No interruptions this time ‘round,” Okita said. “Just you and me till one of us is dead. So, show me how much stronger ya got in a year, Hajime-chan! No—Ryoma-chan!” He rushed forward with a shout.

Ryoma swung, deflecting Okita’s attack with the clang of metal and a spray of sparks. The force of it travelled up his arms, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Okita spun with the deflection and immediately attacked. Ryoma was forced to block again and again as he was backed up by the sheer ferocity of Okita’s assault.

Bracing himself on his back foot, Ryoma blocked a third attack before he threw Okita off. He swung out, but the first captain dodged before he could even get close. Ryoma rushed forward, but Okita leapt into the air, forcing Ryoma to pivot, slashing upwards to block the attack with another arm jarring strike.

Okita was not pulling any punches.

Nagakura had been telling the truth. Their little skirmish at tryouts was nothing compared to now. Okita was strong and incredibly skilled with a blade. And he was fast. One misstep and Ryoma wouldn't be walking away from the fight.

As soon as Okita landed back on his feet, they shoved away from each other only to charge forward once again. Ryoma spun just out of reach, dodging as Okita lunged at him. The sound of screeching laughter followed in Okita’s wake, and Ryoma swung into another spin that brough him closer.

Okita blocked Ryoma’s sword with ease. Their eyes met. Okita’s was wide with excitement and Ryoma’s a fierce scowl. The first captain grinned madly before they both pressed in, swords sliding together as they tested the limits of each other’s strength. When it was obvious neither man would give in, they both shoved apart again.

They circled each other slowly, a deadly dancing of daring the other to move first. Of searching for weaknesses, openings to attack. Ryoma grit his teeth, anger surging through him, but he held his ground. In the end, it was Okita’s patience that ran out first. He surged forward with a manic laugh. He was a blur as he shot across the room, sword raised.

Ryoma waited, biding his time until the last possible minute. Once Okita was just within reach, he spun out of the way, dodging the attack before countering with a swing of his sword. Okita dodged, but not quite fast enough. The sharp mental grazed his arm just enough to draw a line of crimson.

With a hiss, Okita leapt backwards out of reach. “C’mon, Hajime-chan, that all ya got? Ya better not be takin’ it easy on me.”

“I’ll take your whole arm then,” Ryoma bit back, rushing forward.

Okita laughed and leapt back into the fight. The sounds of swords clashing filling the room. He was enjoying the fight, that much was obvious. His manic laughter filled the room, his movements enthusiastic and wild. Despite the circumstances, the fight was exciting.

Ryoma was ashamed to admit how thrilling it was, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the thrill of a true challenge. Okita's excitement was contagious even as Ryoma tried to hold on to his anger.

Okita was making it hard for Ryoma to stay mad.

The longer the fight carried on, the more suspicious Ryoma grew. Okita was strong, but his movements were wild. They didn't seem to fit at all with the masked man he fought in Tosa. Okita fought like an animal. Maybe Ryoma’s feelings for the other man were clouding his judgement, but he didn’t want the killer to be Okita. Even then he still didn’t believe it.

He needed to end this.

He needed answers.

Ryoma put all his force into his next strike. Okita blocked, but it sent him staggering backwards. He didn’t have time to right himself before Ryoma was charging forward into another strike, and then another.

Okita blocked as best he could, still unsteady on his feet.

Pulling back again, Ryoma swung with all the strength he could muster, his muscles crying at him from overuse. Their swords clashed together with another spray of sparks. Suddenly Okita’s blade snapped, the tip went flying as both men stumbled.

A look of shock appeared on Okita’s face, quickly replaced with an angry scowl. He stumbled back, bracing himself with the broken sword. Refusing to yield even in the face of impending defeat.

It was time to end this.

Mirroring the same move Okita had pulled on him at tryouts, Ryoma charged. Launching himself into the air, he raised his katana over his head before he came down on the first captain, knocking the man clean off his feet. The breath was knocked from Okita’s lungs with a loud puff as his back slammed into the ground and Ryoma brought the katana down, pointing it at Okita’s throat as he stood over him poised to attack.

Okita’s broken sword was raised, pointing uselessly at Ryoma. They were both panting as they stared each other down. Slowly, Okita released his hold on the remains of his ruined sword, surrendering himself with a breathless laugh.

“Ya got good, Hajime-chan.” Okita wheezed out a humourless laugh. “Finish it. Yer little revenge story’s finally hit the climax.”

Ryoma glared, searching Okita’s face for answers. All he saw was defeat and sorrow. The man was fully willing to die by his hand. That thought made Ryoma’s guts twist in knots. Maybe he’d gotten too close, but he refused to believe Okita was the man he was after.

He eased up, moving his sword away from Okita’s throat as he stood up straighter. Only stumbling a little as his muscles protested.

“What’re ya doin’ that for?” Okita growled.

“Because you’re not him.” Ryoma sheathed his katana, watching the confusion pass over Okita’s face. “You’re not the one who killed pops.” Unable to look at the sadness that had settled across Okita’s face, Ryoma stepped away from the first captain, his back to him.

“Ya don’t believe I was yer masked man?”

“No. You fight differently. His Tennen Rishin was pure technique. You handle your kodachi like some mad animal.” He finally turned back around to look at Okita. “Am I wrong?”

Okita didn’t respond. He just laid there, staring at the ceiling, but his lack of response said volumes. Ryoma knew the other man must have been hiding something or someone, but in that moment he just felt relief.

“It wasn’t you. The man underneath the mask that night,” Ryoma continued. “Okita, why did you lie to me?”

“’Cause I… wanted to fight the real you?” Okita said, finally sitting up. He was quiet again, staring at the floor. “How’d it feel, gettin’ to be Sakamoto Ryoma again for a little while?”

Ryoma frowned. He didn’t know how to respond to that. There had been a part of him that had felt guilty for letting himself get closer to Okita while hiding who he truly was, but after a year of being Saito Hajime, that was now a part of him too.

Still, there was some relief in knowing another person knew Sakamoto Ryoma existed.

Okita was refusing to look at him as he continued to speak, “Livin’ with yer name buried in the dirt somewhere. Actin’ like the man you were’s just some stranger to ya.”

The scowl on Ryoma’s face only deepened as Okita spoke. He’d barely thought about it, but Okita’s words held more truth than they should have. It sounded like Okita knew firsthand what Ryoma was going through.

Did he…?

“Sakamoto Ryoma existed, and every day ya pretend he didn’t.” Okita finally looked over, but he still didn’t look at Ryoma. “Ya see, Hajime-chan… we got somethin’ in common.”

Ryoma was frozen on the spot, trying to process what Okita was implying. He’d never seen the man be so serious about something, so sincere. He wouldn’t believe it was possible if he wasn’t seeing it with his own eyes.

Did that mean Okita was in the same position he was in?

“What are you saying?”

Okita immediately turned away and Ryoma could practically see him close off again. “Heh, talkin’ shit,” he replied, deflecting the question. “One thing—I’ll say this for him. Sakamoto Ryoma hits like a motherfucker.”

There were a million questions that Ryoma wanted to ask, but he knew he would get nothing more out of Okita if he pressed him. “Yeah,” he finally replied. “That’s something else we have in common.”

“Much obliged,” Okita replied, finally sounding more like himself.

“So then,” Ryoma said, “if you weren’t the man in the mask, how did you learn my identity?”

“Yer little meetin’ with Kondo-san? I was there too. Heard the whole sob story.”

“So, you were eavesdropping on us in Gion? That’s just great.”

“Don’t start cryin’. My lips’re sealed, Hajime-chan. Same goes for Kondo-san.”

Ryoma’s shoulders sagged with the feeling of relief. He trusted Okita and it did feel kind of good that someone else knew the real him. It felt better knowing that Okita wasn’t the man he was after too.

“Hm?” Okita finally looked up at him. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s… you and Kondo. I’ve fought you both now, and Nagakura too. None of you are him.” He paused to think. “That only leaves Hijikata, Inoue, and Todo. It has to have been one of them.”

Okita didn’t reply, but Ryoma didn’t expect him to. Instead, he held his hand out for Okita, helping the other back to his feet. In an instant, Okita was on him. He shoved Ryoma up against the wall, kissing the breath from his lungs.

It was fierce and frantic as Okita’s hands clung desperately onto Ryoma’s haori, fisting into the fabric. Ryoma could feel how tense the other man was. Okita was shaking. Ryoma was momentarily dazed by the force of it, but Okita seemed to take his lack of a response as rejection. He started to pull away, worry in his eyes.

Then Ryoma’s fingers gripped onto Okita’s haori, hastily holding him there as if the second he let go, Okita would run off again. He returned the kiss, realizing something in that moment. The guilt that had been hanging over his shoulders for fooling around with someone that may have been his enemy… it was gone. Washed away with the relief he felt that Okita wasn't the killer after all. Relief that Okita still wanted him too.

He'd missed this, missed Okita’s presence the last few days. His heart was hammering away in his chest. His mind was still reeling from the whiplash of emotions the night had brought him. And right then, Okita was the lifeline that kept him grounded.

Ryoma slipped a hand up, cradling the back of Okita’s head, his other arm slipped around his waist, pulling the first captain close against him, not wanting any space between them. He tried to convey everything he was feeling through that kiss.

And Okita seemed to feel it too. He groaned into the kiss, pressing up against Ryoma, as if desperately needing that closeness too. They both needed to know they were going to be okay.

Drunk off adrenaline and raw emotions, their bodies rocked together as the desperation between them grew. Ryoma hadn’t even realized his own predicament until he felt the hard line of Okita’s cock pressing back against him.

Ryoma moaned into the kiss. He wanted him, needed him. He craved that closeness desperately.

Fingers slid down Ryoma’s chest, reaching for the tie of his hakama, and Ryoma finally broke the kiss with a gasp. His eyes instantly landing on the fallen body of Sengoku sprawled out on the ground. He’d forgotten…

Ryoma flinched. "Okita."

"Hmm?" Okita kissed his way down Ryoma's neck, seemingly having forgotten their location. His hips rocked against Ryoma again, temptation threatening to distract Ryoma once again.

"Okita!"

"Please, Hajime-chan. Let me have you," Okita practically whined, his words making Ryoma shiver.

"I'm not fucking in a room with a corpse!"

"Haw?"

"Sengoku..."

Okita huffed as he glanced over his shoulder. "Cock blocked by a dead guy...."

Ryoma snorted, unable to stop the laughter that spilled out of him. When he looked back at Okita, he saw the man grinning back at him with such affection in his expression, it made Ryoma’s heart swell.

Once he got his laughter under control, Ryoma mirrored the grin on Okita’s face. "Let's just... find another room. Come on."

Okita’s grin turned wolfish as Ryoma yanked him out of the room, leading him off by the hand.

Chapter Text

They barely made it out the door.

The hand that held Ryoma’s tugged and he went willingly back into Okita’s arms. They were kissing as Ryoma’s fingers tightened in Okita’s haori, holding him close while he led them backwards.

They parted again after a moment, Ryoma tugging on Okita’s lip playfully before he turned back around to find them somewhere less exposed. It didn’t take long before he was pulling Okita into a thankfully empty room.

With a wolfish grin, Okita backed Ryoma up until his back hit the wall and Okita was crowding into his space, pressed flush against him. His hands fell to Ryoma's hips as he leaned in, kissing the breath from his lungs once again.

The kiss was electrifying, all tongue, teeth, and sloppy desperation as Okita licked into Ryoma’s mouth. It was as if Okita couldn’t get enough of him. The thought that they almost lost this hung over both their heads. Okita had lured Ryoma there with the knowledge he was going to have to kill Ryoma or die trying. Fortunately, neither of those things came to be and the relief of it seemed to spur Okita on. It felt like he was desperately trying to convey all his emotions into the kiss as he clung on to Ryoma.

Or maybe Ryoma was reading too much into it.

When they broke apart again, Okita’s lips travelled down Ryoma's jaw to his neck. "No corpse in here," he muttered, pressing a kiss to Ryoma’s pulse point. Teeth grazed at the sensitive skin making Ryoma shudder.

Ryoma let his head fall to the side for Okita's wandering lips. "Not exactly private," he replied as his eyes shifted to the open doorway.

"You took everyone out," Okita answered, shuddering against Ryoma. "So fuckin' strong, ain'tcha?"

"Your men?" Ryoma continued, and the sound of frustration Okita let out only made him smirk. His hands gripped onto Okita’s haori as he desperately tried to focus past the growing haze of lust in his mind.

"Instructed to guard upstairs and not come down here for anythin’." Okita licked his way up Ryoma's neck. His hands were gripping tightly onto Ryoma’s kimono, and it was obvious he was trying to hold back. "Do ya want to stop?"

"Fuck no. Kiss me."

Their lips met again in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Ryoma knew there would be a lot they would need to talk about, a lot to unpack about what had happened there, but in that moment the relief was overwhelming. Not only was Okita not the masked man, but now he knew who Ryoma truly was and promised to keep that secret.

Pushing away from the wall, Ryoma switched their positions while Okita was distracted by the kiss. Okita grunted as his back hit the wall, but Ryoma was quick to apologetically soothe his hands up Okita’s torso, feeling the muscles writhe beneath his touch. Their hips rocked together, and Ryoma was suddenly all too aware of how hard he already was. He didn’t know who had moved first, but they groaned in unison as they continued to grind together, franticly seeking that delicious friction.

Okita’s hands moved to Ryoma’s hakama, fingers hastily working the tie open until Ryoma’s weapons fell carelessly to the ground with his pants, and Ryoma was scrambling to do the same for Okita. Once free of their hakama, Okita shoved Ryoma’s kimono aside and took both their cocks in his hand.

Ryoma broke the kiss with a gasp, looking down to watch as Okita jerked them off. He thrust himself into Okita’s grip, moaning as their cocks slid together. It would have been too dry if not for how badly Okita was already leaking precum. The sight sent a wave of desire straight to Ryoma’s core. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Okita cursed, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. “Shoulda brought oil.”

Ryoma laughed breathlessly. “Hang on, hang on, I think…”

“Haw?”

The hand on his cock never stilled, but Ryoma leaned back enough to reach into his haori sleeve, pulling out a small vial of oil with a grin. Okita snorted, but he squeezed them tighter in his hand, and Ryoma moaned.

"When’d ya start carryin’ that ‘round?"

"Around the time a certain captain couldn't keep his hands to himself." Ryoma shrugged, smirking. "Thought to keep it on me after I left your room in Gion. Least I need to polish my swords."

Okita chuckled, but he reached out with his free hand, pulling Ryoma into a quick kiss by the back of the neck. "Listen, ‘bout that day..."

Ryoma kissed Okita again. “Worry about that later, you’re here now.” He leaned in, lips hovering over Okita’s as his hand slipped back to squeeze Okita’s ass. “And I want to fuck you senseless.”

Okita groaned out a curse, his head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. “Yes, Haji-Ryoma-chan?”

Ryoma shuddered, leaning in to tease his tongue up Okita’s neck before nipping at his earlobe. “Call me what you want.” He rocked his hips again, thrusting into Okita’s grip, and groaned as their cocks slid together.

“Hajime-chan,” Okita moaned out breathlessly. “How d’ya want me?”

“Pinned up against this wall.”

Okita snatched the vial from Ryoma’s hand and ripped the cork stopper out with his teeth before spilling the oil into his hand. There wasn’t much, but it would be enough. He tossed it aside before taking Ryoma’s cock in hand, coating it in the slick liquid.

Ryoma moaned, biting back a curse as he thrust into Okita’s hand. “Fuck, wait, I need to prepare you.”

Okita squeezed his dick. “No time. Split me open… Ryoma-chan.”

Ryoma briefly wondered if Okita was testing what name sounded better on his tongue, but it made Ryoma groan hearing his name from Okita’s lips regardless. He delved in, sealing their lips in a fierce kiss as he hoisted Okita up, pressing him against the wall. Long legs wrapped around his waist and hands gripped tight on his clothed shoulders, as Ryoma reached between them, fumbling their remaining clothes out of the way. He guided himself between Okita’s thighs. There was no more time for teasing as he pressed the head of his cock against Okita’s hole. They both groaned in unison as the resistance gave way and he slid into the searing heat of Okita’s body.

Okita’s head fell back against the wall again, trembling in Ryoma’s arms. It wasn’t the ideal position, but neither of them cared as Ryoma pressed in, hips only stilling once he was buried fully inside. He carefully hooked his arms underneath Okita’s thighs and hoisted him up further into a better position. That tore a loud moan from Okita’s lips.

“S-so fuckin’ strong.”

Ryoma’s muscles were already protesting, sore from the fight and overused, but he still managed to support Okita with ease as he leaned in, practically folding Okita in half to mouth along his collarbone, tongue and teeth teasing their way up the other’s neck. “So tight.”

Okita could only groan in response as he started to rock his body down onto Ryoma’s cock. Ryoma shifted again, getting a better hold of Okita’s thighs, his long legs draped over Ryoma’s arms and back pinned against the wall.

“Move!” Okita cried out.

Ryoma didn’t need to be told twice. He started to move, slipping nearly all the way out until the head of his cock caught on Okita’s rim and he slammed back in with a roll of his hips that had Okita crying out louder.

“More!” Okita begged, completely at Ryoma’s mercy in that position. His hands fisted in the fabric of Ryoma’s haori, hanging on tight. His cock was trapped against his belly, drooling heavily.

It didn’t take much to encourage Ryoma to pick up the pace, thrusting up into Okita quick and hard as he kissed and sucked his way up Okita’s neck making sure to leave bruises, needing to mark the man up. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to remain on his feet, but he didn’t want to stop, chasing after the pleasure they both craved.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Okita breathed out, breathless. “Put me down.”

Ryoma froze instantly, worrying he’d somehow hurt Okita. He carefully slipped out of Okita’s body, and Okita barely masked a whimper at the loss. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“’m fine,” Okita mumbled, dismissing the concern as Ryoma placed him back on his feet. He was still trembling in Ryoma’s arms, desire burning in his single eye. “Lay down,” he demanded.

“Huh?”

Okita gave him a light push, and Ryoma got the hint. He tripped over his hakama as he stumbled backwards when Okita pushed him. The breath was knocked from his lungs as he fell onto his back, momentarily stunned, but then Okita was straddling him and they both shared a breathless laugh.

Wasting no time, Okita impaled himself back on Ryoma’s cock with a loud moan. His head fell forward as he readjusted to the intrusion, hips rocking slowly. He yanked Ryoma’s kimono open further before resting his palms on Ryoma’s pecs, squeezing them before picking the pace right back up. His hips rolled with each movement, slamming himself down on Ryoma’s cock.

“Fuck, ya feel so good,” Okita moaned out. “Fill me so fuckin’ good.”

Ryoma’s hands shot to Okita’s hips, hanging on as he thrust up into him, shuddering as the searing heat of Okita’s body sucked him in again and again. He could feel the coil of heat tightening in his gut, the tension building already.

“Ha-Hajime-chan,” Okita moaned out. He leaned back on Ryoma’s thighs as he fucked himself on Ryoma’s dick. His back arched, haori slipping from his shoulders to bunch around his waist.

Ryoma shuddered. The sight before him was almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He cursed, moaning Okita’s name breathlessly as he fucked up into him, meeting each movement with a roll of his own hips. His eyes fell to where they were joined, watching himself disappear into Okita’s body over and over.

"Ryoma-chan, ya think I'm pretty, don'tcha?"

“Yes, yes,” Ryoma gasped out. He couldn’t fathom how Okita had the wits about him to tease him now, of all times. His eyes shot back up Okita’s body to meet his intense gaze only to realize Okita wasn’t teasing him, there was a vulnerability there that made Ryoma’s heart seize.

“Ngh so beautiful,” he muttered before he could stop himself. Ryoma was burning up and drunk off pleasure. He’d say anything in that moment, but this time he meant it. Okita was handsome. He’d always thought so even though he’d swore to himself he’d never admit it out loud.

The confession made Okita faulter, freezing up as he looked down at Ryoma in disbelief, his jaw hanging open. It would have been comical if it wasn’t for how close Ryoma had been.

“Don’t stop, please,” Ryoma all but whined, rocking up into Okita. He lifted his head to look up at Okita, but the look of pure affection Ryoma saw in that single eye, made him freeze up too.

“Beautiful…?” Flustered looked good on Okita. He might have a vulgar mouth and even filthier mind, but it turned out all Ryoma needed to do to make him blush was call him beautiful.

Ryoma pushed himself up onto an arm. Reaching out with the other, he wrapped his hand around the nap of Okita’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Yes, beautiful” he whispered against his lips. He nipped at Okita’s lip before growling, “now move!”

Okita cackled at that, shocked back to his senses even though the blush remained. He gripped onto Ryoma’s shoulders as he started bouncing on his dick again with a broken moan of, “Ryoma!”

The tension was quick to return, the heat building back up and coiling tight in Ryoma’s gut as he rushed toward his climax once again. Their movements grew more and more frantic as desperation for release grew.

Ryoma slid his hand from Okita’s neck, down over his chest and lower still until his fingers curled around Okita’s drooling cock. He gave him a quick tug before releasing him much to Okita’s dismay, but Ryoma was quick to move. He yanked Okita down before rolling them over and moving up onto his knees. Ryoma pulled Okita’s legs up over his shoulder as he pressed back in, wasting no time in setting a brutal pace.

Okita cried out immediately, his head thrown back, back arching off the ground. His hands clawed at the tatami mat beneath him, determined to find something to hold on to. “There, f-fuck, Ryoma, again!”

And who was Ryoma to deny him?

Ryoma fucked into him, keeping up the brutal pace as they broth chased after their release. He could feel the pressure building again, but he wasn’t going to let himself cum before Okita. “Touch yourself for me,” Ryoma moaned out, watching Okita with hungry eyes. The man was so beautiful like this, blissed out and writhing beneath him.

Okita slipped a hand between his legs, taking himself in hand. His cock was red and drooling constantly now, harder than Ryoma had ever seen it. It wouldn’t take much as Okita started to pump his cock as best he could, clearly overwhelmed with pleasure. “G-gonna cum!”

“That’s it, let yourself go. Cum for me, Soji,” Ryoma breathed out, his voice broken. His nails dug into Okita’s thighs, using them as leverage as he slammed into Okita. He was so close now, he could feel himself teetering on the edge.

Okita tensed up, his spine arching, thighs trembling in Ryoma’s grip. “I-I… Oh fuck, RYOMA,” Okita cried out as he came, thick ropes of white spilling over his fingers and splashing up his torso with each pulse of his cock.

Beautiful.

The sight alone was nearly enough to do him in, but what got him more was the name. Ryoma gasped as he felt the tension inside him snap barely a moment later. He cried out as heat flooded through his veins and he came hard, spilling inside of Okita’s spasming body. Ryoma struggled to keep moving as waves of pleasure seared through him.

Gradually, Ryoma slowed to a stop. He eased Okita’s legs off his shoulders before gingerly pulling out only to collapse on his back beside Okita. They both laid there in a daze. The only noise in the room was the sounds of their laboured breathing as they slowly came down from the high of release.

Okita was the first to speak again. Though breathless, Okita started giggling, and Ryoma was beginning to wonder if he officially broke him. "Hajime-chan, you'll have to carry me back! My legs are jelly."

Ryoma snorted, but he laughed with him. “I don’t think I can feel mine either.”

Comfortable silence washed over them again, but both men were grinning as their breathing began to return to normal. Ryoma knew they would have to talk now, but he didn’t even know where to begin. Lucky for him, Okita spoke up first.

“About the other day…” Okita started again. He wasn’t looking at Ryoma as he frowned in thought.

“Why did you walk away?” Ryoma asked, gently prying after the silence drew on. “Was it because you knew? About me?” Earlier, Okita had mentioned he didn’t know until the night he met with Kondo, but surely the first captain had his suspicions already to be following Ryoma in the first place.

“No,” Okita said, trailing off yet again. He sighed heavily as he stared up at the ceiling. “I didn’t know until after that.”

“Then why?”

Okita pushed himself up into a sitting position. Ryoma felt a little bad when he caught him wince, but Okita didn’t seem to complain. He tugged his haori back up from where it had fallen around his waist. “There are things I cannot tell ya yet,” Okita said softly. “I dunno if I will ever be able to.”

Ryoma sat up, rubbing Okita’s back slowly through the rough fabric of his haori. His hand slid up, squeezing Okita’s shoulder reassuringly. “We all have our secrets.”

“I was weak, runnin’ away from ya like that,” Okita continued, shrugging. “Don’t know why I did it. Sorta panicked.”

“Soji,” Ryoma teased, an attempt to lighten the mood. His heart ached to see Okita so twisted up. The truth was, he’d already forgiven him that night. He leaned in close, grinning. “You got feelings for me or something?”

Okita finally grinned back, and he pushed Ryoma’s face away. “Or somethin’! So what?!”

Ryoma smiled softly, his treacherous heart skipping a beat. He leaned in again. “And if I feel the same?”

Okita didn’t pull away, but he looked down, fiddling with his haori.  The great Okita Soji appeared nervous once again. “You have to know… there’s a lot I cannot tell you. It’s not all my story to tell.”

Ryoma slid his hand up Okita’s back again, fingers brushing lightly into the shorn hair at the back of his head. He felt Okita leaning into the touch, his eye falling shut. “It’s okay. I would be a hypocrite to demand otherwise.”

“Are ya sure yer okay with that?”

“Yes, now come here.” Ryoma pulled Okita in, eyes slipping shut as he tried to convey just how sure he was with a kiss. He felt Okita relax into it, kissing back. When he pulled back, he saw a faint smile on Okita’s lips as he rested their foreheads together. “What have you done to me?”

Okita grinned and stole another kiss. “We better go before my boys start getting antsy.”

Ryoma hummed in agreement but they kissed again before slowly getting back to their feet. They quietly cleaned up and redressed before heading for the exit. Okita hesitated in the doorway, his back to Ryoma.

“Did ya mean it?”

“Huh?”

Okita seemed to fidget for second, glancing over his shoulder. “Ya think I’m…”

Ryoma smiled as soon as it clicked what Okita was asking him. He’d said it during the throes of passion, but that didn’t make it any less true. He moved up behind Okita, squeezing his shoulder as he passed by. “I’ll need to think about that.”

Okita huffed in response, but Ryoma turned and pulled him into another kiss.

“Yes, you idiot, I meant it,” Ryoma finally responded, grinning. “You might be a menace, but you are a beautiful one.”

Okita laughed at that, shaking his head as if still in disbelief. “Alright, alright, let’s get outta here before ya say anymore sappy shit,” Okita grumbled, his cheeks tinged pink again.

Ryoma snorted, but he didn’t tease him any further.

They were both grinning as they left the mansion together. Okita’s men were instructed to gather what they could and the police were informed. Once everything was settled, the two men headed back to the barracks together, spirits high.

That was until Oryo came baring news that tore the rug right out from under Ryoma.

Takechi Hanpeita was dead.

Chapter Text

It had grown significantly cooler in the early hours of the morning, but the chill wasn’t enough to sober Ryoma up as he made his way through the barracks. Most were asleep and the guards that were up paid Ryoma little mind as he stumbled further in.

Ryoma could hardly thing straight. He wasn’t even sure how he’d gotten there. He could barely stand, swaying on his feet as gravity threatened to pull him down. He could vaguely remember going out drinking with… who again? He squinted as he tried to recall the events. He was certain he had passed out at some point. He vaguely remembered being dropped off at Teradaya Inn, but now he was there swaying before the door of a room that wasn’t his.

Thinking was making his head hurt. He shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, but that was a mistake that nearly sent him toppling into the shoji door before him. What was he doing again?

Ryoma reached out, hesitating, his hand hung in midair reaching to slide open the shoji panel in front of him. He swayed again, nearly tumbling into the door once more before he managed to regain his footing.

What was he even doing there? Everything was so muddled in his head. There were whole gaps in his memory where there was nothing. How much had he drunk? The last thing he could remember was Oryo checking in on him after he’d been dropped off.

Oh…

Ryoma flinched as he recalled running out on her. Worse, he had snapped at her earlier in the evening too just for caring about him. He would need to apologize in the morning for that…

Ryoma scrubbed his face, trying to wipe the thoughts from his mind. He didn’t want to think of that. Not now, he couldn’t. All that did was add more guilt to the pain he was already in. He rubbed at his chest as if he would ease the discomfort lodged in his heart.

He was alone.

Takechi–

“No!” he mumbled to himself. His voice was loud in the still night, interrupting his own thoughts. He couldn’t focus on that. Not now. He just needed to focus on… Where was he?

Ryoma went over the events again in his mind. He remembered being led to a bar. Then he started a fight…? With whom? He felt like that had been important, but all it had done was led to more drinking. And now he was there, standing before a certain door in the Shinsengumi barracks.

Why had he come?

Deep down he knew the answer to that, but it shouldn’t have mattered. Nothing mattered now. Ryoma had lost everyone he ever cared about. His family was gone, and he hadn’t even had the chance to apologize. Now he never would. He’d let himself get distracted, drawn in by another man. The same man whose door he stood before now instead of at his brother’s side. He should have been there. Maybe if they hadn’t fought… If he hadn’t—

No!

He couldn’t go down that path now. Right now… he just didn’t want to be alone…

Determined this time, he reached for the door again, but the world seemed to sway. Or at least the shoji panel did…? The door leapt away from his fingertips, sliding open on its own and—Oh!

It opened to reveal a very tired and very annoyed looking Okita. His hair was down and messy from sleep. The tsuba he wore to hide his eye looked like it was hastily thrown back on and the yukata he’d worn to bed was hanging off one shoulder and barely closed. A light breeze could have blown it open.

The sight was enough to distract Ryoma from his throughs. He couldn’t help but eye him up appreciatively, and he must have been obvious too because Okita was smirking when he finally looked up.

“Are ya gonna stand there all night?” Okita’s voice was husky from sleep when he spoke and he squinted at Ryoma.

“Soji!” Ryoma greeted him a bit too loudly. He was far too drunk to care that he could be overheard. He moved to take a step forward before he stumbled and ended up falling right into Okita’s arms. He tried desperately to right himself, but all he managed to do was heavily lean on Okita for support.

Smooth.

Okita raised an eyebrow, amusement evident on his face. “Alright, come in ya big idiot.” He sighed. “Goin’ out fer drinks ‘n not inviting yer pal Soji. So rude, Hajime-chan.” He huffed, helping Ryoma stand on his own again, a feat that almost left them both on the floor.

Ryoma frown deeply, guilt clear on his face, gnawing at him again. He upset Okita, he didn’t want to upset Okita. “’m sorry,” he slurred.

Okita chuckled, softer than usual. The sound was a surprising balm for Ryoma’s aching heart. The first captain stepped aside so Ryoma could stumble in, sliding the door shut behind him. “What’re ya even doin’ here so late?”

“I…” Ryoma flushed, looking down at the floor. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Okita frowned, his eye squinting as if he was scrutinizing Ryoma’s face. “Then how can I help ya?”

Ryoma really didn’t know what had possessed him to show up at Okita’s door drunk out of his mind and drowning in grief. He was alone, truly alone now. He didn’t want to be alone. And Okita… they had something, right?

The silence between hem stretched on as Okita stared at him, waiting for a response. He was far more patient than Ryoma expected the man to be, especially since he had obviously woken Okita up.

He swayed where he stood, his eyes roaming over Okita again, looking even more dishevelled now since Ryoma had fallen into him. He was so calm as he stood there watching Ryoma, waiting for a response.

Ryoma scrunched up his face, trying to think of something to stay to break the silence, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was, “you’re so beautiful…”

“Haw?!”

Ryoma was drawn in, messily pulling Okita into a kiss, but the other turned his head before they could connect, frowning as Ryoma sloppily kissed his cheek instead.

"Yer drunk."

"So?"

"We ain't…" Okita sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he was thinking of what to say. He pressed a hand gently to Ryoma’s chest, easing him back. "Not while yer drunk."

Ryoma frowned, his drunk mind quick to overact. Was he not good enough for Okita now? He wasn’t expecting the rejection or the way it made him feel… It hurt, but he supposed he should have known better. What had he been expecting?

He shook his head, a big mistake as he nearly tumbled over. He shouldn’t have come here. It was a bad idea. He clearly was not thinking straight.

 "Just… I… I'll go…"

Okita sighed again, scrubbing his face and nearly upsetting his barely attached tsuba. He looked tired and guilt cut through the drunken haze in Ryoma’s mind. He’d come here for comfort and now he just felt worse. He’d interrupted the man’s sleep and, worse, he’d hurt him.

Ryoma rubbed his chest again. It still didn’t ease the tightness that seemed to have permanently lodged itself there. His pain and grief were so deep it physically hurt. It had been foolish to think Okita would want to see him like this, a weak, drunk, mess. Now he just felt trapped, waiting for Okita to toss him out as he should. He needed to get out of there first. Maybe find an open bar to wallow the rest of the night away in.

He wasn’t ready to face his thoughts with a clear mind.

Ryoma wanted to bolt right then, would have if Okita wasn’t still blocking the door. His heart was in his throat. He shouldn't be doing this… He shouldn't have come here. Why had he? Did he just ruin the one good thing he may have had left in his life?

He lost everyone else. Maybe that was his fate to be alone.

"Come, lie down with me…" Okita said, his voice strangely soft, cutting through Ryoma’s thoughts. He paused, then added almost as an afterthought, "Sleep."

Before he could turn and run, Okita had caught his wrist like he could read Ryoma’s mind. The touch was like a lifeline that silenced his racing thoughts. His gaze fell to the pale hand pulling him deeper into the room where Okita’s futon lay toward the back. Okita pushed Ryoma down gently until he got the hint and laid down on his back. Then the first captain dropped down beside him, laying on the edge of the futon as if to give Ryoma plenty of space, but Ryoma wasn't having it. He missed his touch immediately. Hastily, he reached out, tugging Okita into his arms, craving the closeness. He felt Okita tense up, but he wasn’t letting go.

Ryoma held on tight.

A soft chuckle escaped Okita’s lips as he finally relaxed, resting his head on Ryoma’s chest and his arm draped over his stomach. Silence fell over them for a while as Ryoma stared at the ceiling. The closeness was quick to sooth the panic that had been bubbling up inside his mind.

Lying there with Okita’s weight pressed against him, he could almost forget he was alone, the only one left of his adopted family.

“Ya can talk to me, y’know?”

It wasn’t until Okita had spoken again, that Ryoma noticed he was shaking. The grief instantly washed over him again and he held on tighter. “I lost the last person I had in this world…”

The second Ryoma opened his mouth, the dam broke. Everything he tried burying that night came spilling out. His eyes burned with unshed tears as he continued. “My kyoudai, he was like family to me. Ever since we were kids. We grew up together, got in trouble together. And he was better than me at everything.”

Ryoma paused, swallowing back his tears before continuing. They burned in the back of his throat. “I called him my brother. I couldn’t live without him. He was honestly my hero. But…”

He knew he shouldn’t have been talking about it, but he couldn’t stop now that he had started. He was sure Okita already knew who he was talking about. He must have known, but he didn’t interrupt him.

“The last time I saw him, we got in a fight. I didn’t think that’d be the last time I would ever see him again.” It was then Ryoma realized his face was wet, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “Dammit… How could I talk to my brother like that?!”

He closed his eyes, mumbling an apology as he quickly cried, but Okita just rubbed his side soothingly. It was a comfort that meant more to Ryoma in that moment than he would ever be able to vocalize.

“Hey now, did it feel better to talk ‘bout it?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t apologize.”

Ryoma hummed in response and silence fell over them again. It was a strange thing to be lying there sobbing his heart out to Okita Soji. He never expected the other man to have such patience, but Okita never once judged him.

Eventually the tears dried up and Okita pulled a blanket over them both before resting back against him. The ache in Ryoma’s chest lessened just enough to let him fall asleep peacefully.

Maybe he wasn't so alone after all.

Chapter Text

The next morning came far too soon. The rising sun slowly filtered through the shoji panels, lighting up the room and slowly dragging Ryoma from his slumber far too soon for his liking.

Lucky for him he felt more tired than hungover, a surprising feat given how much he must have had to drink. The events of last night were still hazy and trying to recall them just made his head swim. He went out for drinks, but for the life of him, he couldn’t recall with who… It was all a black spot in his mind. He knew he had passed out only to wake up at Teradaya Inn to a concerned Oryo. She tried to press him to talk, but he’d fled, making his way to the barracks in search of Okita.

The recollection made Ryoma flinch. That part he remembered in vivid detail. Waking Okita up. Dumping all his problems on him. Crying himself to sleep with Okita in his arms…

Not his finest moment.

Now the first captain was practically draped over him, face still buried in Ryoma’s chest, legs tangled together as if he was trying to wrap himself around Ryoma. He was more laying on the third captain than off, but Ryoma found the weight of him comforting even as he snored loudly.

Ryoma chuckled before he could stop himself.

"Pillows don talk," Okita slurred tiredly.

“Blankets don’t drool,” Ryoma teased back.

“Haw?” Okita lifted his head to look down at Ryoma’s chest only to freeze. “Shit!”

His hand slapped against his face as he covered his eye like he’d just realized the tsuba was missing. He looked so alarmed, Ryoma couldn’t help but find it endearing. It was a small miracle the makeshift eyepatch had fallen off in the first place. Ryoma couldn’t imagine it would have been comfortable pressed into his chest and even less comfortable for Okita, jamming into his eye socket.

Ryoma laughed softly. “You don’t need to hide from me.”

“It’s reallll ugly, Hajime-chan…” His voice was strained.

“Hmm? Nothing about you is.” The words were out of Ryoma’s mouth before his brain caught up with him and his eyes grew wide. For all his bluster at the start, he sure had no problem admitting it now.

Okita looked just as surprised, before he cackled. He pushed himself up, still covering his eye, but he straddled Ryoma and his yukata fell even further open, barely covering him now.  “Ya sap, tryin’ to sweettalk me?”

Ryoma got the feeling Okita was trying to distract him on purpose, and it almost worked. Almost. He pushed himself up onto one hand, sliding his other up Okita’s arm to lightly grab the wrist of the one covering his eye. “I’m serious.”

Studying him closely, Okita’s eye narrowed as he searched Ryoma’s face. Most likely trying to judge how Ryoma would respond. Slowly, he dropped his hand, his good eye darting away as if he couldn’t look at him then.

Ryoma reached up fingers running along Okita’s cheekbone before he cupped his face, thumb brushing just below the sunken eye. It was scarred and sunken in. The lids were pulled apart slightly as if it had healed without fully closing, but it wasn’t ugly. Not to Ryoma.

“Well?” Okita demanded, fidgeting.

In that moment, Ryoma realized just how insecure Okita really was despite all his posturing. The vanity was an act. It was a wonder Ryoma hadn’t realized it sooner, especially with how flustered Okita got when called beautiful.

“Come here,” he finally replied, pulling Okita into another kiss.

Okita seemed stunned at first, as if Ryoma would be so shallow as to reject him for that. It made Ryoma angry to think someone could have, but those concerns were quelled the second Okita was kissing back.

When they pulled apart again, Okita looked more like his usual self, a grin pulling at his lips. “Ya reek of booze,” he said, cackling.

Ryoma groaned in annoyance, looking unamused as he flopped back onto the futon and shoved Okita’s face away. “Thanks.”

That only made Okita laugh louder and Ryoma retaliated by bucking him off, dumping Okita back onto the futon beside him with a grin as the breath was knocked from Okita’s lungs. It didn’t keep the first captain down for long. He was quick to roll back onto his side, pressing himself up against Ryoma.

“Cruel, Hajime-chan!”

“Please, I’ve thrown you harder.”

“Yeah, ya have.” The lecherous grin on Okita’s face only made Ryoma roll his eyes even if he was smirking too.

“Shut up,” Ryoma mumbled as he pulled Okita into another kiss.

Okita’s grin remained even as he returned the kiss. It was lazy and slow as Okita’s fingers slipped into Ryoma’s kimono, palm sliding over a broad pec before he squeezed it making Ryoma’s breath hitch before his fingers were wandering again. They teased over flesh causing goosebumps to rise in their wake before pausing to circle around Ryoma’s nipple.

A jolt of heat shot into Ryoma’s core, and he sharply inhaled through his nose as he shuddered. He broke the kiss to groan as his nipple pebbled under Okita’s rough touch. “Tease,” he breathed out.

Okita smirked, nipping at Ryoma’s lower lip and tugging on it before he brought two fingers to Ryoma’s plush lips.

Ryoma’s lips parted instantly as he let the digits slip into his mouth. He lifted his head to take them in further, watching as Okita stared, transfixed. He dragged his tongue up their length, pulling nearly all the way off before sucking them back in again. His tongue swirled around the digits.

“Fuck,” Okita groaned out, tearing his fingers away to crush his lips back to Ryoma’s.

The slick fingers slid down Ryoma’s chest again, following the grooves carved out by Ryoma’s powerful muscles before they returned to his nipple, pinching and teasing the hardened nub.

Arching into the touch, Ryoma moaned into the kiss. He reached for Okita’s yukata, pulling him impossibly close as a thigh slipped between his legs, pressing against his growing erection through the thick layers of his clothes

The kiss grew more heated, desperate as Okita licked into Ryoma’s mouth, their tongues sliding together. Eagar hands tugged as Ryoma’s kimono, forcing it open further before a warm palm began to trail down, teasing through the valleys carved out by Ryoma’s abdominal muscles.

Ryoma couldn’t help rock his hips against Okita’s thigh, feeling himself get hard. He broke the kiss with a groan, his head falling back against the futon as he arched into Okita’s touch.

Fingers tugged at the ties of Ryoma’s hakama before a hand slipped inside, cupping him through his fundoshi and palming him slowly. The responding groan was barely stifled as Ryoma rocked himself up into Okita’s touch.

Okita kissed his way down Ryoma’s neck, bitting and sucking at the skin as he went, but Ryoma was far too turned on to care if Okita left bruises or not. He felt Okita rocking against his thigh, just as turned on, just as eager.

Neither of them heard the footsteps approaching the door until it was too late. The shoji panel slid open and both men immediately shot apart, looking up to see Nagakura staring at them.

“Shinpa-chan!” Okita shouted. “What the fuck?”

Ryoma wanted the floor to swallow him up right then and there as he yanked the blanket up to their waists as if that would hide anything. He groaned in embarrassment, throwing an arm over his heated face.

Nagakura just laughed. “Knew it! How’re ya gonna weasel outta this one, Soji? Gotta help Saito-han find his own cock?”

Okita threw a cushion at him and Nagakura just batted it out of the way and laughed louder.

“What’d ya want?” Okita growled.

“Just wanted t’ see if ya wanna grab breakfast. Shit!”

Ryoma carefully moved his hand beneath the blanket, squeezing Okita’s thigh and watching as the man struggled to keep a straight face past a sharp inhale of breath. Okita’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Nagakura seemed to sense what was going on and rolled his eyes as Okita sputtered out a hasty ‘later’. Nagakura just smirked, shaking his head. “Just try ‘n keep it down, yeah?” He snorted as he slid the door closed on the way out.

Okita was on Ryoma barely a second later. Their lips locked in a brief, but heated kiss as Okita half rolled onto him.

“Let me,” Okita mumbled, breaking the kiss in favour of kissing down Ryoma’s chest slowly, tugging Ryoma’s kimono fully open as he went.

Ryoma shivered, biting back a moan. “Wait, wait, wait,” he breathed out, and Okita looked up concerned. “No, I just…” He pulled Okita back up, stealing a kiss before he rolled them over. “Let me make it up to you for last night…”

“Haw?”

Ryoma rocked his hips down against Okita and he arched up, pressing their hips closer together as he moaned. Ryoma took advantage of the exposed neck, kissing and licking his way down it, pausing to suck a mark into the pale skin. Okita’s breath hitched.

“What d’ya wanna do?”

Without pausing to answer, Ryoma pulled open Okita’s yukata, not surprised at all to find him completely bare underneath. He made his way down Okita’s chest, kissing his way between his pecs and over to a nipple. Okita’s breath hitched as Ryoma teased the nub with a swirl of his tongue before he bit down on the sensitive nipple, making Okita moan loudly. His palms slid down Okita’s sides, feeling the man squirm under his touch until they stilled on Okita’s hips, holding him down. He sucked roughly on the sensitive nipple, lavishing it with his tongue before pulling back to blow against the wet skin.

“H-Hajime-chan,” Okita breathed out. Ryoma could tell he was struggling to stay quiet. He could feel him trembling beneath him. Okita’s head was tipped back, torso arched into Ryoma’s touch. His hands were gripping at the futon already.

Thumbs teasing in the divots of Okita’s hips, Ryoma made his way down Okita’s torso, leaving a trail of slopy, wet kisses in his wake. His tongue teased out, tracing the grooves of flexing muscles. He could feel Okita squirming in his grip and he nipped at the sensitive skin just below his belly button causing Okita to gasp.

Okita lifted his hips, clearly desperate for touch as his cock jut out from his body, hard and leaking and practically begging to be swallowed down, but Ryoma ignored it for now as he continued further, kissing his way down a powerful thigh to a knee. He licked his way back up the inner side before biting down on the sensitive flesh of Okita’s inner thigh making the man cry out.

Fingers slipped into Ryoma’s loose hair. They pressed his head down holding him there as Ryoma teased his tongue over the grooves left by his teeth. He sucked on the abused flesh, determined to leave a bruise. He could feel the powerful muscles dancing under his lips as Okita moaned his name yet again. Satisfied with the reddened mark, Ryoma soothed it with his tongue before pressing a kiss to the bruise.

An incessant grip tugged at Ryoma’s hair as Okita practically whined, hips lifting off the futon until Ryoma took pity on him. He moved up to where Okita wanted him most, dragging his tongue flat up Okita’s shaft from base to tip before he took his cock in hand. He stroked back Okita’s foreskin before teasing his tongue flat over the tip, tasting Okita with a groan. Wrapping his lips around the head, he sucked, hollowing his cheeks out.

“Fuck, Ry—ahh Hajime-chan!” he moaned louder than he should have. Ryoma was just grateful he thought to censor himself, but the broken sound of Okita’s voice sent heat surging through Ryoma.

He wasted no time in going down on Okita, taking as much of him into his mouth as he could. He near gagged as he felt him hit the back of throat and he had to pause to force himself to relax with a hum that made Okita quake. He released his grip on Okita’s cock in favour of taking both his hips back in hand, pinning them down onto the futon as he started to take him into his throat. He hummed loudly around him, keeping his gag reflex at bay.

Okita slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the loud moan that escaped his lips. His knees drew up, practically caging Ryoma in as he slipped fully down Ryoma’s greedy throat.

Ryoma could feel the head of Okita’s dick drag down the back of his throat until his face was pressed into the wiry curls at the base of his cock. He paused there, unable to breathe as he swallowed around, letting Okita feel his throat constrict around him.

The powerful thighs clenched around Ryoma’s head and Ryoma could feel Okita trembling as he squirmed in his grip. He started to pull back, letting Okita slip from his lips just long enough to suck in a breath before he was going back down on him once again, shallowly bobbing his head.

The gip in his hair was tight, the pleasurable pain of it shot down Ryoma’s spine going right to his dick. He shifted his weight onto one elbow as he reached down into his hakama, palming himself through his fundoshi in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ache between his own legs.

He moaned throatily around Okita’s cock, allowing Okita to guide his head with rough tugs of his hair. Okita’s thighs kept involuntarily clenching around his head, and Ryoma knew he was getting close.

Okita cursed. “N-not gonna…. I’m—Hajime!”

Ryoma hummed in response, knowing the vibrations would only heightened Okita’s pleasure. His jaw was beyond aching at this point. His throat was growing sore and he knew he was drooling heavily but fuck if that didn’t turn him on more. He wanted Okita to cum down his throat.

Needed it.

“Fuck! I’m cummin’!” Okita gasped out. His thighs clenched around Ryoma’s head again, the strength of them was driving Ryoma wild. He picked up his pace, humming once again in determination to get Okita off. It didn’t take much. With another loud cry, Okita came, spilling down Ryoma’s throat. And Ryoma greedily swallowed down all he had to offer, letting Okita ride out his orgasm before he collapsed boneless onto the futon in a daze.

Now that Okita was spent, Ryoma couldn’t ignore himself anymore. He was burning up with desire. He quickly moved up onto his knees, determined to get his cock out as he shoved his hakama and fundoshi down. Taking himself in hand, he leaned over Okita as he jerked himself off, devouring the sight before him through heavily lidded eyes.

Okita was sprawled out, looking blissed out and drunk of his release. “Finish on me,” he pleaded, reaching down to wrap a hand around Ryoma’s, stroking his cock with him.

Ryoma shuddered. The words sent molten heat searing through him, settling in his belly. He fucked into their fists, moaning Okita’s name breathlessly. He free hand gripped at the sheets, desperate to ground himself as he felt himself getting close.

“That’s it,” Okita continued. “I’ve gotcha. Want ya t’ paint my stomach, c’mon, cum for me.”

Ryoma was so close, he could feel the tension inside him threatening to burst. The heat was building up and desperation spurred him on. He moaned Okita’s name, hanging on to every filthy word coming out of Okita’s lips. He fucked into his fist desperately now.

Once.

Twice.

“Oh, fuck Soji,” he moaned out louder than he meant to as the coil snapped. White hot pleasure seared through his veins as he reached his climax. Thick white ropes shot out over Okita’s stomach and chest with each pleasurable pulse of his cock. He continued to stroke himself through his releases, dribbling over his and Okita’s fingers as they milked him for all he was worth.

Once he was spent he sank down onto his back beside Okita, dazed with a pleasant warmth tingling through him from his release.

They both laid there quietly for a while, waiting for their heartbeats to settle and their breathing to return to normal. He felt good despite the amount of alcohol he’d consumed last night.

Okita wiped himself off with his yukata before he rolled over, curling up against Ryoma’s side with a pleased sigh. His head resting on Ryoma’s chest once again and an arm draped around Ryoma’s waist.

They didn’t talk about what had happened last night, but it was obvious something had changed between them, something for the better. Okita seemed to be in no hurry to peel himself off of Ryoma, and Ryoma was in no hurry to let him go either.

The night prior, Ryoma had been so defeated, so sure he was all alone in the world, but now, as he lie there in Okita’s arms, now he felt hopeful. He knew he wasn’t alone after all.

“I’ve decided I’m not giving up. I… still have something to do,” Ryoma said softly as he stared up at the ceiling. He knew Okita knew more than he was letting on about Toyo, but he wasn’t going to pry and risk whatever was forming between them. “But I would feel better knowing you were by my side…”

Okita tensed up for a minute before sighing heavily. “I can’t help ya with yer mission,” he spoke slowly as if choosing his words carefully. The tone of his voice suggested he was being serious for once. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Ryoma smiled, holding Okita close.

That was all he needed to hear.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since the news of Takechi Hanpeita’s death and Ryoma was trapped in an odd state of mind, torn between the grief of losing everyone he’d had and the euphoria of whatever was going on between himself and Okita.

Part of him felt guilty for the budding happiness he felt when Okita was around as if he wasn’t allowed to seek comfort in another. Afterall, he was only there to learn of Toyo’s killer and in the process, he’d cast aside the one person he’d had left. Worse, he’d argued with him and now he’d never have the chance to apologize…

However, the other part of him, the louder voice in his mind, refused to push another person away. He’d already spent enough time feeling guilty over the connection he’d had with Okita from the start. He might be in mourning, but he knew better than anyone that this life they had was short. Too short to not let himself explore this, whatever this was between them.

Ryoma shook the thoughts off with a sigh. He was too tired to dwell on them now.

It was dark as he made his way into Mibu, heading back to the barracks. The day had been long. Another morning of clearing bandit caves before spending the afternoon checking in with Haruka and the farm. Now it was evening, and Ryoma just wanted to check in with his division. That was until he ran into Okita and Nagakura heading in the opposite direction.

Okita flashed Ryoma a grin and spun mid step to throw his arm around Ryoma’s shoulders. In one smooth movement, he turned them back around like it was nothing, leading Ryoma in the direction the two men had been headed. “Come, eat with us!”

“But I—”

“It can wait!”

Nagakura shot Ryoma a sympathetic smile, but Ryoma just shook his head, chuckling softly while he let Okita lead him along. To think this would have annoyed him not that long ago. Something really had shifted between them. Even Inoue seemed to have backed off. He still caught the old man glaring from time to time, but he didn’t seem to want to keep them apart anymore. That was something.

Right?

“Oi, Hajime-chan, are ya in there?”

Ryoma hadn’t even noticed how lost in thought he’d been until a hand was waving in his face. He swatted Okita’s hand away. “Sorry, what’d I miss?”

“We’re here!” Okita announced, dragging Ryoma inside.

They found a table in the back and Ryoma settled on the bench beside Okita as Nagakura sat across from them. Ryoma was barely paying attention as the owner’s wife came up to take their order. Lucky for him, Nagakura was happy enough to order for them all, leaving him to focus on the man sitting beside him. Okita’s arm was still wrapped around his shoulders and Ryoma had to resist the urge to lean into it. He rested his arm across his lap, fingers reaching out to brush lightly over the exposed skin of Okita’s thigh just within reach.

Okita shivered, smirking as he shared a look with Ryoma.

Sake was brought over to the table a moment later and Nagakura took it upon himself to serve them all. They fell into quiet conversation, enjoying the drinks and chatter as they waited for their food. It wasn’t long before Ryoma was reaching to Okita again, unable to keep his hands to himself. His fingers traced softly over the exposed skin, feeling the muscles tense, responding to his touch. He felt Okita shudder against him.

Okita’s knee knocked against his. The hand on Ryoma’s shoulder squeezed lightly, thumb rubbing the back of his neck and Ryoma had to suppress his own shudder. He hid a smirk behind his sake cup as he continued drawing mindless patterns over Okita’s skin, sharing heated glances whenever Nagakura turned away.

Soon their food was spread out over the table, sake cups were placed aside, and the arm around Ryoma fell away as they all dug into the meal before them, but Ryoma couldn’t keep his hands to himself for long. He shifted closer, teasing the tips of his fingers over Okita’s warm skin once again. He slid his palm further into his hakama, squeezing the first captain’s thigh.

Dropping a hand beneath the table, Okita causally caught Ryoma’s wrist this time. He pulled Ryoma’s hand between his thighs as he carried on eating like nothing was happening. Ryoma, however, slipped out of his grip before he could get his way and smirked as Okita very near whined.

“I’ll be right back,” Ryoma said, pushing himself away from the table and heading for the exit.

Okita’s jaw hung open for a second, ready to protest when Ryoma glanced back over his shoulder, nodding to the exit.

“I uhh… I needta make sure he doesn’t get lost,” Okita stated abruptly, shoving himself up from the table to chase after Ryoma.

Nagakura snorted. “I’m eatin’ yer food!” he called after Okita.

“Yeah, yeah!”

Ryoma slipped around the corner, disappearing into the narrow alley behind the restaurant knowing full well Okita was close on his heels. He spun around, yanking Okita into the dark passage by his haori and kissed him hard before the man could utter another sound.

Okita groaned into the kiss, gripping back onto Ryoma’s haori as he was pressed up against the wall, pinned there by Ryoma’s body. He shivered as Ryoma shifted a leg between his, pressing a thigh against Okita’s groin. The first captain was already hard, more affected by Ryoma's touch than he realized, and Okita desperately rocked against Ryoma.

“Look at you,” Ryoma whispered, barely pulling away from the kiss. He nipped at Okita’s lower lip as his fingers fell to the warm skin left exposed by the gap in Okita’s hakama. He slipped his hands inside and squeezed Okita’s ass. “Already so needy.”

A moan left Okita’s throat, his head thudding back against the wall behind him. His lips were parted, slick with saliva made even darker by the rough kiss they had shared. His pupil was blown, eye half lidded as he continued to rock against Ryoma’s thigh. “Whose faults that?”

Ryoma smirked. “Says the man walking around with half his ass hanging out.”

“You enjoy it.”

“Gods help me, I do,” Ryoma growled before crushing his lips against Okita’s again.

Okita tugged on Ryoma’s kimono, forcing it open more than it already was so he could soothe his hands up Ryoma’s torso, squeezing his pecs, and Ryoma’s breath hitched as fingers teased over sensitive flesh.

Ryoma gripped Okita’s ass again, forcing their hips together. The thick fabric between them wasn’t as satisfying, but it was enough to draw a groan from his lips as he rocked back against Okita.

“Fuck,” Okita gasped out as he broke the kiss. “I need…”

“What?” Ryoma leaned in, kissing his way down Okita’s neck, nipping at the pulse point.

“More.”

“Greedy.”

“Always.”

Okita’s eyes shifted to the mouth of the alley as he slipped a hand into Ryoma’s hair, arching against him and groaning as Ryoma sucked a mark into his neck. Ryoma knew what he was checking for. There was only one entrance, and they were shrouded in darkness. As far as privacy was concerned, it could be worse…

“Should we get out of h—”

“No.” Okita gripped Ryoma’s haori again, pulling him impossibly close. “Don’t ya dare stop now.”

Ryoma licked up his neck, nipping just below Okita’s ear as he continued kneading his ass, rocking their hips together. The heat inside him was building, his cock already half hard. “Then tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” Okita groaned out and Ryoma shuddered as the words sent fire straight to core.

“We could get caught.”

“So?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ryoma paused to suck another mark just below Okita’s ear, tongue and teeth worrying at the skin as he felt the first captain shudder in his arms again. He dropped his voice to whisper into Okita’s ear. “You’d like someone to catch us, to catch you writhing on my cock.”

Okita let out a breathy curse, still rutting himself against Ryoma’s thigh. His fingers tangled in Ryoma's kimono, holding him close as if Ryoma would dare pull away now. “Don’t make me beg.”

Ryoma continued to grope Okita’s ass shamelessly, keeping their bodies pressed together. “But you’d do it, wouldn’t you? Beg for it.”

Releasing his grip on Ryoma’s kimono, Okita teased his hand between their bodies, cupping Ryoma’s cock through is pants. He squeezed him before slowly palming him until Ryoma was fully hard and aching for more. “I need this inside me. Now,” Okita growled back into Ryoma’s ear.

Ryoma shuddered, his breath catching in his throat as he rocked into the touch. Heat surged into his core, making him throb under Okita’s touch. His gaze shifted to the mouth of the alley once again as he swallowed back a moan, biting his lip. “Are you sure?"

“Thought ya liked bein’ watched,” Okita teased and Ryoma snorted.

“Only if it’s you.” Ryoma turned his attention back to Okita's neck, kissing his way down the expanse of it, tongue and teeth worrying at the skin. He pressed a kiss to a newly exposed shoulder where Okita’s haori has slipped off.

Okita groaned. “Then I’ll take the eyes of anyone who looks.”

“So heroic.”

“Naw, I just need a spare.” Okita grinned at his own joke.

“I should leave you here for that," Ryoma replied despite the smirk tugging at his lips. He pushed away with a snort, stepping back only to immediately regret the distance between them, however miniscule it was.

Okita cackled, stepping forward and pressing Ryoma up against the opposite wall. “Ya won’t,” he replied, feeling Ryoma’s chest up again before he dropped a hand between Ryoma’s thighs, palm pressing against Ryoma’s trapped erection. He rubbed him slowly through the thick fabric of his hakama, making Ryoma squirm and gasp. “You’re achin’ for it just as bad as I am.”

Ryoma groaned, pratically rutting into Okita’s touch. He gripped the bloody haori, yanking him into a fierce, but brief kiss before he was backing Okita further up into the alley until they reached the dead end. He spun Okita around, pinning him chest first to the wall. His hands slipped down over Okita’s sides, settling on his hips before he yanked on them and Okita got the hint, bending over more so his ass stuck out.

Okita braced himself with one arm against the wall as he rested his forehead against it, gasping as Ryoma practically manhandled him. He shuddered under the rough touch, groaning softly.

Pressing a kiss to Okita’s shoulder, Ryoma reached around to work open the bloody samurai’s hakama. “Think you can keep quiet?” he whispered into Okita’s ear. He took Okita’s swords, setting them carefully on a crate within reach beside them before he loosened the ties enough to shove the pants down.

Okita snorted. “All talk for someone takin’ forever.”

Ryoma huffed, yanking Okita’s fundoshi until the back came loose and fell out of the way. He pulled back enough to slip a small vile of oil from his haori and wasted no time spilling it into his palm before tucking the vile away once again. He was quick to slick up his fingers before pinning Okita’s haori to his back so it was out of the way. He teased the slick digits down the cleft of Okita’s ass, circling his hole.

Okita’s breath caught in his throat, hips pressing back. “Hajime-chan, stop t—ahh…”

Ryoma cut him off as he pressed his middle finger inside, shivering as Okita’s tight heat practically sucked the digit in right up to the knuckle. He kept Okita’s haori pinned to his upper back while he worked his finger inside of him. It wasn’t long before he was pulling it out and slipping in another finger.

“Hurry up,” Okita breathed out, already squirming against the digits inside of him. He pressed back against Ryoma’s fingers, hips rocking, and Ryoma didn’t need to be told twice. He started to move, watching as he fingered Okita open, scissoring with each movement. He slipped in a third digit, continuing to work Okita open as their patience began to wane.

“Ngh enough,” Okita groaned out. "It's not yer fingers I need."

“Are you sure?” Ryoma whispered, leaning in close as he curled his fingers inside Okita, finding that one spot that would really test his ability to stay quiet, and he knew just when he found it too.

Okita practically shouted, clamping his own hand over his mouth as he moaned Ryoma’s name. His real name, even muffled, it was clear enough to send heat surging through Ryoma. He shuddered, giving up on his desire to tease as his own need took over. His fingers slipped free of Okita before he scrambled to loosen his hakama enough to free himself, fumbling to get the ties undone without dropping his weapons onto the ground. He cursed loudly, fingers made clumsy by his own haste, and Okita laughed.

“Takin' too long, Hajime-chan. Awful noisy too.” Okita was smirking over his shoulder.

Ryoma growled in response, but soon was able to free himself, shoving his clothing aside the best he could. It wasn’t ideal, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. He shoved Okita’s haori up and out of the away again as he took his cock in hand, watching as he guided himself to Okita’s hole. Teasing his head against the tight ring of muscle, he didn’t even get the chance to ask if Okita was ready, didn't need to as the first captain was already pressing back onto him. Ryoma watched, transfixed as the velvety heat swallowed him up and he sank into Okita’s eager body. He groaned lowly, gripping Okita’s hip with his newly freed hand as he bottomed out, buried deep in Okita’s tight warmth.

Okita let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing into his arm as he shuddered. His hips rocked as they both took their time to adjust. They groaned in unison and it wasn’t long before he was pleading for Ryoma to move. Ryoma couldn’t hold back if he tried. He started slow, watching himself slip from Okita’s body before he thrust back in with another low moan. Each thrust slow and deliberate, letting them both feel the drag of his cock as he nearly slipped out before he slamming back in with a roll of his hips. Soon his own need was becoming too much, his movements speeding up. He fucked into Okita rough and quick leaving them both panting and desperate as the heat inside them built and they moved together, chasing after the growing pleasure.

“Ryo—ahhhh,” Okita moaned, louder than he should have. Ryoma covered Okita's mouth, hoping to silence him only for Okita to bite down, drawing a hiss from between Ryoma's teeth. The first captain latched on, keeping himself as quiet as he could. Okita dropped a hand from the wall to fist his own cock while slamming himself back into each of Ryoma’s movements, filling the alley with the sounds of laboured breathing and barely contained cries of pleasure.

There was a fire burning inside of them both, the heat threatening to consume them as they chased after the growing esctasy. It was coiling tightly inside Ryoma, the tension growing and growing as he fucked into the other man. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, his movements growing clumsy as desperation grew, and Okita didn’t seem to be faring any better himself. He was moaning loudly into Ryoma’s hand. His own fist picking up the pace on his cock. He practically whined, clenching down around Ryoma, and Ryoma had to bury his face into Okita’s neck to keep himself quiet as he moaned his name, shuddering.

They didn’t have time to take it slow, Ryoma didn’t want to even if they did. Any moment someone could stumble in the and find them going at it. Ryoma couldn’t deny the excitement that thought sent through him, but he also didn’t actually want to get caught.

Okita finally released his hold on Ryoma’s hand with a loud gasp. He was trembling in Ryoma’s arms now. “Gonna…. Gonna cum,” he moaned out, and Ryoma was shocked he had it in him to whisper.

“Then cum for me,” Ryoma growled in his ear, feeling Okita shudder beneath him. "I need... gonna pull out. I'm going to—"

“No!” Okita gasped out. His hand shot back, gripping onto Ryoma to stop him from doing just that. “Finish inside me.”

The words sent heat straight to Ryoma’s cock and he gasped, grinding himself into Okita. “Gonna make a mess of you,” he breathed out. It was meant to be a warning, but the thought was nearly enough to finish him right then.

“Fuck yes, fill me!” Okita’s hand was back on his cock, pumping himself quickly as he fucked himself back onto Ryoma, desperate and needy and so very close, Ryoma could tell. Who was he to deny the other man what he wanted? The idea of Okita walking around with his spend dripping out of him, it was too much.

Ryoma gasped, hips slamming into Okita as the tension inside of him snapped. He buried his face back into Okita’s neck, muffling his cry as he came. Pleasure surged through him in waves as each pulse of his cock filled Okita up with his spend. The world around them dulled in that moment. All he could focus on was the pleasure overwhelming his senses and the heat coming off Okita’s body as he trembled in Ryoma’s arms. He clung on to the quiet broken moan of his real name falling from Okita’s lips as he must have met his own release. His hole spasmed around Ryoma’s cock, milking him for all he was worth.

When they were both spent, Ryoma couldn’t help but sag against Okita, pressing him further into the wall before them, his arms snaking around his waist as they tried to catch their breaths. Okita was the first to eventually make a sound, chuckling breathlessly. “Fuck, Hajime-chan, got my knees all weak.”

Ryoma let out a soft laugh in response. He pressed a kiss to Okita’s neck before he stood back up and carefully slipped his softening cock from Okita’s body. The bloody samurai bit his own lip, barely suppressing a shudder as Ryoma stepped back.

“Fuck, now it’s cold,” Okita complained, pushing himself away from the wall. It was clear from the way he staggered, he was still unsteady on his feet, and Ryoma couldn’t help but smirk.

Ryoma pulled a handkerchief out of his haori, handing it over to Okita to get himself cleaned up as they both began to tidy themselves up and pull their clothing back into place. They got dressed in silence and Ryoma helped Okita tie his swords back on before they shared a lingering kiss, one that was interrupted by Okita’s stomach as it growled, making them both snicker.

“Come on, better get you fed before you waste away,” Ryoma replied, leading Okita out of the alley. They made their way back to the restaurant, half surprised to still see Nagakura seated at their table.

Nagakura just snorted when they sat back down. "What, did ya fuck him stupid?" He eyed the oddly quiet Okita suspiciously.

"You mean, he wasn't already?" Ryoma smirked.

"Haw?!" Okita elbowed Ryoma in the side. "I'll show ya—hey, where'd the food go?"

Ryoma and Nagakura both laughed.

“Told ya I was gonna eat it, didn’t I?” Nagakura snorted. “Saito-san really did knock a few things loose in that head of yers.”

Okita scoffed. “Now yer both against me!”

“You’ll get over it,” Ryoma replied. “I’ll order if it’ll shut you up.”

Ryoma smiled as the two continued to bicker like brothers. It made the grief inside him stir, but unlike a week ago, he knew then he wasn't alone. There in the presence of good company, he couldn't help but feel a little lighter.

Chapter Text

Ryoma was caught somewhere between dreams and the soft lips trailing kisses down his neck dragging him into the waking world. A content hum left Ryoma’s throat, but he was not ready to open his eyes just yet. He was warm and comfortable and wrapped in the tight embrace of another.

“Mornin’,” Okita whispered into Ryoma’s neck. Warm breath brushed against soft skin and Ryoma shivered, gooseflesh spreading in its wake.

“Morning,” he mumbled back, voice still deep from sleep.

“Sleep well?” Okita mouthed his way up Ryoma’s neck. The kiss pressed just behind his ear had Ryoma’s breath catching in his throat. Then teeth grazed over the spot and it was more electrifying than it should be for such an early hour. A shiver raced up his spine.

“Mhmm,” Ryoma muttered.

Ryoma stifled a yawn as fingers inched their way into his yukata. A smirk tugged at Ryoma’s lips and he caught Okita’s wrist before it could slip in further. Pulling the hand away, he placed it back on his hip. Not that that was any better. Okita proceeded to squeeze his hip through his yukata, slowly massaging it as he huffed, his breath ghosting over Ryoma’s neck once again and once again Ryoma shuddered.

“Hajime-chan, yer such a tease,” he practically whined, pressing closer against Ryoma’s back. He kissed a clothed shoulder, hiding the grin Ryoma knew was plastered over his face. He dropped his voice then to whisper in Ryoma’s ear, “or should I say Ryoma-chan?”

“Mm, but we could sleep longer.”  Despite himself, Ryoma was smirking. Hearing his real name on Okita’s tongue just felt right.

“How can I sleep when yer layin’ there lookin’ so good wearin’ that?” Okita waved his hand wildly, gesturing at Ryoma’s choice of clothing. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just the normal blue yukata he wore to sleep. He wasn’t even sure it was the first time Okita was seeing it. It was, however, the first night he’d worn it in Okita’s room in Gion and they had been spending a lot of time together as of late.

Okita hummed in thought, nuzzling Ryoma’s neck. Teeth nipped at skin and Ryoma felt the man grinning as he kissed Ryoma’s pulse point. Mischievous fingers teasingly tried to slip inside the yukata once again.

“It’s a yukata.”

“Yeah, a sexy yukata.”

Ryoma snorted, but he didn’t stop the warm palm rubbing his chest this time. Fingers slipped past the blue fabric before Okita was squeezing one of Ryoma’s pecs. He had to bite back a groan, refusing to give his fellow captain the satisfaction, but they both knew how much he enjoyed the touch. He bit his lip, shivering as heat pooled in his gut. Arousal stirred inside him.

Okita tugged on the fabric, letting it slip from Ryoma’s shoulder so he could kiss the bare skin while his hand went back to fondling Ryoma’s chest. He cupped a pec in his hand, squeezing lightly before teasing his thumb of a sensitive nipple and Ryoma arched into the touch with a gasp.

“Ya look so good like this,” Okita practically purred, peering over Ryoma’s shoulder as he toyed with a nipple making Ryoma gasp and squirm against him as the nub pebbled under his touch. “’n all for me.”

Ryoma was quickly waking up in more ways than one. He could feel his cock swelling between his legs. Okita’s touch was electrifying, sending pleasurable shivers up his spine.

“I guess if it’s too much of a distraction, I can just take it off,” Ryoma teased as he reached down to work his yukata open further. A hand caught his wrist, stopping him before he could open it any more than he already had. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, smirking.

“No!” Okita huffed, leaning down to steal a kiss before he spoke again. “I want t’ unwrap ya.”

Craning his neck, Ryoma caught Okita’s lips in a hungry kiss. The angle wasn’t ideal, but they made it work as Ryoma reached back, slipping his fingers into Okita’s loose hair, holding him close.

With one hand, Okita’s tugged blindly until Ryoma’s yukata came loose and fell open. His palm slid back up Ryoma’s torso, teasing and exploring and feeling Ryoma up until the third captain couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed Okita’s wrist and pushed his hand down to his neglected dick, now fully hard and aching for attention. 

Ryoma groaned as Okita’s fingers curled around his cock. His hand shot behind him, gripping Okita’s hip as he rocked his ass back against him, feeling the hard line of Okita’s erection even through the layers of their clothes. The answering moan that left the first captain’s throat made Ryoma shudder.

“Too many clothes,” Ryoma huffed, breaking the kiss. Okita caught on quick, but Ryoma immediately missed the heat of his touch as soon as the first captain had pulled away to undress.

Ryoma took the opportunity to lean forward onto his stomach and pull the jar of oil closer to them, but before he could sit back, Okita was on him again. He’d yanked Ryoma’s yukata up, exposing his ass to the cool air before the first captain closed the distance between their bodies. Draping himself across Ryoma, he ground his erection against Ryoma’s ass while pressing kisses across a shoulder blade.

Ryoma groaned. “Let me up!” he half-heartedly protested with a breathless laugh at Okita’s impatience.

“Ya took too long.” Okita grinned into Ryoma’s shoulder as he dipped his fingers in the oil. Leaning back, he spread the oil onto his palm before taking his own cock in hand, coating himself in the slick substance with a breathy moan. “Move back onto yer side for me.”

Ryoma was quick to do just that, glancing over his shoulder at Okita through heavily lidded eyes.

It didn’t take long for Okita to be back pressed up against Ryoma, he’d yanked the blue yukata up enough to expose Ryoma’s ass once again before pressing himself against him. He rocked his hips, grinding his slick cock against Ryoma’s ass with a loud moan.

“Ngh Soji,” Ryoma groaned out, throwing his head back as Okita’s oiled hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him in a firm grip as he continued to rock against him. The first captain’s other arm was currently trapped beneath Ryoma, fingers splayed out against Ryoma’s chest as he held him close. The hand on his cock stroked back the foreskin before a thumb teased over the sensitive head. It pressed into the slit and he throbbed in Okita’s grip. He moaned as he felt pre-cum ooze out.

“So wet for me, ain’t ya?” Okita purred in his ear, the sound making Ryoma shiver, his cock twitching in Okita’s grip. “Fuckin’ leakin’ for me, Ryoma-chan.”

Hearing his name from Okita’s lips sent molten heat straight through him, an intense wave of arousal that had his cock jumping in Okita’s hand. He gasped, thrusting into the tight grip with a breathy moan of his given name. He gripped at the futon beneath them, desperately trying to ground himself.

Gods, he’d never tire of hearing his name from Okita’s lips.

Okita thrust himself against the cleft of Ryoma’s ass, grinding himself against him with desperate determination. He hid his face in Ryoma’s neck, quieting his moans as best he could, but he was getting close already. Ryoma had started to learn his tells. The way his hips moved faster, his moaning got louder, and his ability to talk faded away. Okita loved to talk, he babbled so much filth, but when he got close, his words were replaced with vulgar moans and desperate pants that went straight to Ryoma’s cock.

Reaching back, Ryoma slipped his fingers into Okita’s loose hair. He gasped, arching against him as he rocked his ass back against Okita, feeling his cock slide between the cleft of his ass, slick and leaking against his skin. He groaned his name breathlessly. “Ngh my thighs…”

“Haw?”

“Cum between my thighs.”

The shudder that shot through Okita’s body was noticeable in the way he trembled against Ryoma. He let out a breathless huff and reluctantly released his grip on Ryoma’s cock in favour of guiding himself between his thighs. Gripping onto Ryoma’s hip, Okita began fucking into his thighs, groaning and grunting into his ear with each quick thrust. The new angle was pressing Ryoma more into the futon, his cock trapped between his stomach and the fabric. He groaned loudly as each movement had him grinding against the futon.

It didn’t take long for Ryoma to be back on edge, the heat inside him coiled tight, the tension ready to snap. He rocked his hips, grinding his cock down into the fabric as he gasped out. “Gonna cum…”

Okita kissed and licked and bit his way up Ryoma’s neck before sucking at the sensitive spot just behind Ryoma’s ear. There was sure to be bruises, marks that wouldn't be easy to hide, but the thought only turned Ryoma on more. He writhed beneath Okita, struggling to keep his thighs tight for him as gave in to his own pleasure. His hands gripped at the futon, desperate for anything to grip on to as he fought to keep himself under control, to hold back just a little bit longer. The feel of Okita's dick sliding between his thighs was maddening. 

“Then cum,” Okita groaned out, voice strained. He slipped a hand beneath them and took Ryoma’s cock in hand again, grip tight.

Ryoma couldn’t hold back if he tried. Every thrust between his thighs had him pressing into Okita’s grip again and again. The pleasure was building and he reached back to cling on to Okita. He chased after that growing pleasure with a single-minded focus, grinding himself into Okita’s grip. “I—oh fuck! I’m cumming,” Ryoma cried out as tension inside of him snapped. Thick ropes of cum shot out with each pulse of his cock, pooling onto the futon below as white-hot pleasure seared through him, making his eyes roll back, body tremble.

He was vaguely aware of Okita cursing behind him before letting out a shaky moan as his thrusts grew sloppy. It wasn’t long before he was moaning Ryoma’s true name, hips snapping with desperation until Ryoma felt something wet splash between his thighs and knew Okita had cum. They continued to rock together, working through their release as their pants filled the room, bodies trembling against each other. Okita gradually slowed and they both went limp, pressed up against one another. Okita's arms encircled Ryoma's waist, pulling him in close as they rest back on their sides, both buzzing from their release.

Once he caught his breath again, Ryoma stretched out with a content hum, pressing himself back into Okita’s arms. If it wasn’t for the sticky mess between them, he’d have been more than content to just doze off again. “Ugh, now I’m a mess.”

Okita snickered. “Yer the one that asked for it.”

“Says the man who started it.”

Okita grinned, pressing a kiss to Ryoma’s shoulder. “Good thing I had a bath drawn.”

“What?”

“That’s why I was tryin’ t’ wake ya,” Okita replied with a grin.

“Should have started with that!” Ryoma perked up.

Okita laughed. “C’mon, let’s get ya clean. Can’t have my Ryoma-chan dirty.” He shoved himself up.

Ryoma paused as the words registered in his mind. His traitorous heart skipped a beat at the warmth that filled him with. He rolled onto his back and looking up at the man. “Yours, huh?”

The singular eye staring back at him grew large and Okita’s cheeks were suddenly tinged pink. “What?!”

A smirk tugged at Ryoma’s lips as he pushed himself up onto his hands. His yukata slid down his arms and he pulled free of it. “So, I’m yours?”

“Shuddup,” Okita mumbled, looking away. His face was redder now, but he still held his hand out, helping Ryoma to his feet. He didn’t give him a second to respond as he pulled Ryoma towards the bath.

On the way, an object caught Ryoma’s attention and he hesitated. He stopped in his tracks, accidentally pulling back on Okita’s arm. “What is that?” he asked, his eyes falling on what looked to be a carefully styled wig, it was partially hidden beneath a cloth. “Do you do theatre?”

Okita immediately tensed up, not quiet looking at Ryoma. He was quick to yank the cloth back over the wig. “No, won that stupid thing,” he muttered. It was clear to Ryoma that was a lie, but he didn’t try and push it, even if curiosity nagged him. Was Okita embarrassed?

Whatever it was, Ryoma decided it best not to pry. He let himself be led to the bath and Okita seemed more than relieved that he dropped the subject as they sank into the water together. Ryoma settled in first with Okita resting with his back against Ryoma’s chest. 

Eventually Okita sat up and they both started to scrub each other down. The first captain stole a lingering kiss before he climbed out of the bath and began to dry himself off. He started on dressing himself soon after.

“Wait, where are you going?” Ryoma asked.

Okita hummed in response as he tied his hakama back on. When he finished with the ties, he walked back over, sitting on the edge of the bath. He leaned down to steal another kiss. “Gotta head in for patrols. Ya should rest though.”

Ryoma pulled him back in, kissing him again. “Will I see you later?”

“Why, Hajime-chan, ya gonna miss me?” Okita grinned. He leaned in as Ryoma huffed, cheeks tinted pink.

“So, what if I am?”

“I’ll find ya later,” Okita replied, and Ryoma didn’t doubt it. He kissed Ryoma one last time before he climbed back onto his feet and finished dressing himself before heading for the door. With one last glance back over his shoulder, he grinned before slipping out.

Ryoma sighed contentedly, sinking back down in the bath with a smile on his face.

*****

Ryoma didn’t stay much longer himself, the room suddenly felt too empty without Okita in it. He quickly finished his bath and left Gion behind as he made his way to the barracks.

Nagakura was coming down the steps as Ryoma approached and he stopped in his tracks the moment he saw. “Saito! Where the hell ya been?!” he growled. The aggression in his normally calm voice alarmed Ryoma.

“What is it?”

“Really now?” Nagakura started, scowling as he studied Ryoma. His expression softened for a moment as it dawned on him Ryoma really had no clue. “Hang on, ya seriously haven’t heard about Gen-san yet?”

“What happened to Inoue?”

“Well…” Nagakura replied more sombrely. “Just go to the barracks. See for yerself.”

He frowned as Nagakura walked off without an explanation, and concern settled tight in Ryoma’s chest. He tried to shake it off as he headed up the steps and into the barracks. He made his way toward his fellow captains.

The scowl only deepened as Ryoma approached the group. He couldn’t see what they were standing around in that moment. Or at least, who they were standing around. The closer he got, the more evident it was that the bundle on the ground was in fact a body, and Nagakura’s words started to make more sense. He didn’t want to believe it.

It couldn’t be…

His eyes darted around at the faces he could see before landing on Okita’s. The first captain didn’t look up. Didn’t even so much as acknowledge Ryoma’s presence as he approached. His gaze remained fixed on the body and there was a storm in his eye, brows furrowed. It had Ryoma’s anxiety raising by the moment. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew who it was before he even got the chance to look. He didn’t need Nagakura’s words to know and his heart sank for Okita in that moment.

There, covered in a rush mat, lay the body of Inoue Genzaburo.

Chapter Text

It was early evening in Mukurogai. The sun was beginning its slow descent in the sky, painting the slums in a golden glow. The only hour even a place like that could almost be called beautiful, but long shadows were beginning to stretch across the ground like the increasingly dark thoughts in Okita’s mind.

It hadn’t taken Okita much to track down a witness. Many in fact. Inoue’s killer had been careless. This particular idiot hadn’t been exactly quiet about having witnessed the murder either. He was bragging about it in Mukurogai as if that didn’t put his life in danger. Foolish, pathetic man.

“Say it,” Okita growled.

The sharp edge of his katana was pressed against the throat of the cowering ronin. The man’s eyes were large, fear written clear across his face as blood beaded to the surface. He stood on his toes, pressing his back desperately against the partially collapsing wall behind him, anything to escape the blade.

Okita just sneered at him, pressing just a touch harder. He watched as crimson rolled down the well-polished steel.

“P-please, yo—ngh!” the man tried to speak, but the blade only cut in more.

“Tell me what I wanna know!” Okita snarled.

The first captain didn’t really need the confirmation though. He already knew the answer. He knew what the man was going to say even as he threatened his life. It was the same damn answer he’d been hearing all day from every loyalist and ronin he’d cut down.

It still didn’t make it sting any less.

“S-Sakamoto R—”

The man cried out in agony as Okita unsheathed his wakizashi with his free hand and jammed it into the ronin’s stomach with an anguished cry of his own. He twisted the blade with a snarl before yanking it back out as he stepped backwards.

The wide eyes of shock stared back at Okita, the ronin’s mouth hanging open. He reached down, clutching at his stomach only for his fingers to come back red with blood.

Okita sheathed his katana as he watched the man take a stumbling step forward only to collapse to his knees. In a moment of pain induced rage, Okita delivered a well-placed kick to the man’s chest, sending him flying off the side of the dilapidated temple.

The violence brought him little comfort.

Flicking the blood from his wakizashi, he sheathed it as he turned to address his men. “When Saito Hajime shows up, let him pass. I wanna have a fuckin’ word with him,” Okita ordered, leaving no room for argument. Not that his men would ever go against his orders. “Now get outta my fuckin’ sight.”

The troopers abruptly turned and marched off and Okita was left alone. Wearing a path in the damaged floor, he paced, unable to stand still. His mind was an absolute mess. Grief raged inside him. He could still remember the look in Hajime-chan’s eyes that morning as they stood around Gen-san’s body, the way he was desperately staring Okita down. Okita couldn’t look at him then. Didn’t want to. What would he see in those beautiful eyes of his? Pity?

Betrayal?

No, that wasn’t his Hajime-chan. Saito was good. He was kind. He…

He was Sakamoto Ryoma.

Okita cried out again as the grief boiled up inside him. A shout of rage and pain as he dropped into a crouch, clutching at his head. The sound had sent birds flying away in fear, but Okita wasn’t paying attention. His heart hurt, torn in two directions.

Did Sakamoto finally find out Gen-san was his masked man? Had he snuck out late last night when Okita was sleeping soundly beside him? The thought made Okita sick. He didn’t want to believe it. How had he gotten so weak? How had he let himself get so distracted? He should have protected Gen-san. Instead, he let his feelings get in the way and now the man who had taken care of him, mentored him, was gone.

And it was all Sakamoto Ryoma’s fault. Whether he pulled the actual trigger or not, it didn’t matter.

One of his men returned, stirring him out of his spiralling thoughts. The man bowed. “Sir, Saito-san just crossed the bridge.”

“Good,” Okita growled, climbing back to his feet. “Point him up here and then clear out. No one is to interrupt. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The trooper bowed again before hurrying back off down the tower.

Glancing around for a place to position himself, Okita’s eyes fell back on the dilapidated wall he’d pinned the ronin against earlier. He used it to hoist himself up into the rafters before quietly creeping along. Finding a place for himself to wait and watch, he crouched, hidden away where Sait—Sakamoto wouldn’t spot him.

And he didn’t have to wait long.

The moment Sakamoto came into view, Okita’s heart seized in his chest. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached as a wave of grief washed over him. He wasn’t just mourning Inoue’s death, he was mourning a relationship that never even had a chance.

Hajim—no, Sakamoto looked around, confusion clear on his face as he searched for the first captain, and Okita used it as an opportunity to move from cover. He quietly lowered himself down, dropping silently back onto his feet as he crept up on Sakamoto. His hand went to his blade, slipping it free of its sheath.

“Okita…”

The sound of his name on the third captain’s lips was a dagger to his heart. The rage and grief overwhelmed him again. Okita attacked, launching himself at Ryoma. The clash of their swords vibrated painfully up Okita’s arms and he leapt back, expecting the other to give chase.

“What was that for?” Sakamoto demanded.

“Drop the act. Pretendin’ doesn’t suit ya,” Okita growled.

“What?”

“I know…” Okita snarled, “yer the fucker who killed Gen-san!”

Anger flared in him, white-hot and near blinding, and he used it to his advantage. Channelling that rage, he launched into another attack, racing for Sakamoto. Their swords clashed, sparks flew with every swing, but Sakamoto blocked each one effortlessly. Their swords clashed again and again and they both shook with the effort of holding each other back.

“Where’d you get that ridiculous idea?!” Sakamoto demanded. They launched apart, shoving each other back before he spoke again. “Weren’t you supposed to be looking for some komuso?”

“Yeah, sure was…” Okita responded, “but I finished that li’l hunt.”

“Who was he?”

“Turns out, that killer komuso is named Sakamoto Ryoma!” Okita snarled. It was much easier to focus on the rage than the pain, and Sakamoto’s act was really getting on his nerves. Did he think he could just play dumb and things would go back to the way they were? Did he really think Okita was that stupid?

Deep down Okita knew it couldn’t have been him, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. He knew he wasn’t. He hurt and he didn’t know how to make it stop. He didn’t know who he was madder at in that moment, himself or Ryoma.

“What? I was with you all night, Okita!”

“Every loyalist we met coughed up the same fact: there’s a komuso goin’ by Sakamoto Ryoma,” Okita snapped. “They’ve seen him all over town.”

“So, you believe them?” The hurt on Hajime’s face was clear as day, but he needed to remember this was Inoue’s killer. This was Sakamoto Ryoma. He couldn’t think of him as the Hajime he’d woken up to that morning. He needed to hold on to his anger. He couldn’t go soft now.

“Both the Tosa and the Choshu ronin sold ya out. So yeah, I believe ‘em.” Okita was glaring daggers at Sakamoto as he spoke. “Plus, I can see why it was you. After all, yer the one who’d want Gen-san dead the most.”

“Hold on—another person’s been using the name Sakamoto Ryoma,” the third captain was quick to defend himself. “I know you’re already aware of that.”

“Yup, sure am, but I also know ya had a good reason to kill Gen-san.”

“I did?”

Okita growled. “I said drop the act! You murdered the guy when you heard he was the man in the mask!” He couldn’t contain his anger anymore. Okita was done talking. He shouted once again as he ran toward Sakamoto. He launched through the air just for their swords to clash as Sakamoto blocked again. Their blades grinded together, and the feel of it grated on his nerves. He grit his teeth as he fought to ignore it, pressing back with all his strength. The physical exertion of trying to overpower the third captain made his arms ache.

“Is that really true? About Gen-san?” Sakamoto asked. From so close, Okita could see the hurt written across the man’s face and it stung, but in that moment all it did was enrage him further. He didn’t want to care. He didn’t want to feel.

This wasn’t his Hajime-chan. This man had murdered his master, a man who might as well have been a father to him.

“How long are ya gonna play stupid?!” Okita growled.

“I’m asking if it’s true, Okita!” Sakamoto shouted and they shoved apart once again. He was panting as he fixed his angry glare on Okita. “I deserve the truth, Okita.”

But Okita wasn’t going to give it to him easily. He raised his sword, taking his Tennen Rishin stance as he prepared for the fight. His eye narrowed as he glared back at Sakamoto.

“You deserve to bleed out in the street,” Okita growled. He knew he would regret his words later, but in that moment all he felt was grief, a pain that had his heart in a vice grip. He wanted it to stop. He wanted the man who caused it to suffer. “After I show ya my master’s true Rishin style.”

“What do you mean by that, ‘true Rishin style’?”

“Get yer ass good ‘n ready, Hajime-chan,” Okita started, very near flinching as the name left his lips. “’Cause the only way yer getting’ to the bottom of yer Tennen Rishin mystery is through me.”

“So, I have to beat the answers out of you, huh?” Sakamoto pointed his sword at Okita and the anger on his face may have quelled a lesser man, but Okita wasn’t afraid. It only stoked the fire inside him. Cocky son of a bitch. “Then bring it, Okita! I’ll put you down quick, and I’ll find out the truth. So, I can finally go back to living as Sakamoto Ryoma.”

“That’s the spirit,” Okita replied. One of them was going to die there tonight, and it was not going to be him. “Now you die, Sakamoto Ryoma!!!” He took off running at Sakamoto again.

Okita wasn’t pulling his punches this time. He didn’t hold back as he launched at Sakamoto. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying once more as they drove each other across the worn temple floor. It was a deadly dance, one Okita did not want to lose.

He lunged again, slashing out with a swipe of his katana, but the third captain was quicker. He spun out of the way like it was nothing. Using that momentum, Sakamoto countered with a strike of his own, spinning into a slash that Okita barely dodged in time.

Okita got lucky, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the second.

Sakamoto spun again, using his momentum once more to slice through the air and strike. Okita had just enough time to bend backwards, avoiding most of the attack, but the tip of the blade still grazed over his pec. He hissed, feeling the wet warmth of blood roll down his chest. The wound was superficial at best, but it strung, nonetheless and the cut only stoked the flames in Okita.

With a cry of anger, he launched into a frenzy of attacks. He backed Ryoma up, leaving him no room to attack. He forced the man on the defensive, but the third captain deflected each strike like it was nothing. Sakamoto Ryoma was good. Real good. With a clear head, Okita would have found that strength exhilarating, now it just made him angrier.

Was Okita getting weak? Was his training rusty? The thought frightened him more than anything. He wanted to make Inoue proud, wanted to carry on his technique, but so far Ryoma batted him away like he was nothing. Even worse, was the fact Okita was starting to tire himself out. He stumbled, and Ryoma took the opening.

Suddenly, Okita was the one on the defensive. It was all he could do to fend off the dancing samurai. Each block was a reminder of the third captain’s strength as it rattled up his arms. His limbs were growing heavy and Okita fought to find an opening, but it was no use. He felt the anger inside him draining, and, with it, his will to fight.

Okita stumbled backwards and went down on one knee, panting with exhaustion as he stared up at Ryoma. He should have known he would lose. All his rage, his strength, it was no match for the dancing samurai. He should have been angrier in that moment, but in the end he was just tired. As if the fight had drained him of all his rage and just left him with his grief. He felt hollow.

Neither of them spoke for a minute as they stared each other down. Okita had to admire the other’s strength. It was as if he hadn’t even broken a sweat.

“Is my Tennen Rishin… getting’ rusty?” Okita muttered, panting heavily.

Ryoma finally relaxed, showing a crack in his armour as he too was struggling to catch his breath. He sheathed his blade. “I’m not the one who killed Inoue. It was most likely the other Sakamoto Ryoma.”

Deep down Okita really had known that. Some part of Okita that had been buried beneath his rage and his grief. He wasn’t mad at the man before him, he was mad at himself. With nothing left to say, he just looked away.

“Okita…” Sakamoto’s voice was much softer now and somehow that stung him the most. He had been ready to kill the man that he…  

Okita didn’t deserve him.

“Was Inoue really the masked man, that night?” the third captain continued.

“I…” Okita finally stood, sheathing his katana. He stared ahead, finally starting to go numb, but there was one thing that still nagged at him. “I got a question for ya first. What’dja think of my Tennen Rishin?”

“I admit, you do fight exactly like he did,” the third captain replied. “The techniques, the strength, the reflexes… It was exactly like a year ago. With the masked man.”

It was a small comfort to hear those words. Maybe Ryoma was just being kind to him, maybe it was true. Okita was relieved none the less. “Izzat so?” There was a sadness in his voice when he spoke. “Then I guess I should be tickled… It means I finally caught up to the old man’s level, after all those years of worryin’ I never would.”

There was a soft look on the third captain’s face and Okita couldn’t hold his gaze. Now that the anger had drained out of him and he could think straight once again, Okita knew it wasn't his Ryoma that had taken his mentor from him. And now it was too late. He'd gone and ruined everything. He tore down that bridge between them and set it ablaze.

Ryoma was better off without him.

“So,” Ryoma spoke, drawing Okita out of his thoughts, “am I getting this right, that was your master?”

“’Course it wasn’t so simple,” Okita replied. “To me, Gen-san—No, Kamo-san was…”

“Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in some time.”

Both Okita and Ryoma’s heads whipped around to find Kondo approaching.

“Isami-chan…” Okita greeted, turning to face the man.

“I think it’s time we shared the truth with our fresh-faced captain here, Goro-chan,” Kondo replied, stopping before them.

“Kondo,” Ryoma greeted, confusion clear on his face once again as he glanced between the two men.

“Saito Hajime-san, you’ve finally found your answer. The mystery of the Tennen Rishin style… and the Shinsengumi’s biggest secret,” Kondo continued. “Come, let’s take this somewhere more private.”

Okita and Ryoma shared a look before following Kondo away.

Chapter Text

The chill of the changing seasons had slowly begun to creep in, but the cold didn’t seem to bother the citizens of Kyo much. Men stumbled their way drunkenly through the streets unaware of the space their bodies occupied. It forced Ryoma to press his back into the wall of Asahi to avoid being run over once again.

He waited for Okita, tapping his foot impatiently. They didn’t have long to get to Teradaya, but Kondo had wanted to speak with Okita after their conversation had wrapped up and he’d promised he’d wait.

Ryoma’s mind was still reeling from all he’d learned that evening.

Inoue’s death. The grief and pain and anger he’d seen in Okita as he fought him off. It had been so deep it had blinded the first captain, turned him against Ryoma for a time. Not that Ryoma could blame him. Would he have thought any differently in Okita’s shoes?

Then to learn of Okita’s past…

The memories of their previous fight suddenly made more sense. Defeated, Okita had been so melancholy. He’d tried to tell Ryoma then about how similar their lives were, but Ryoma hadn’t gotten it at the time. It was clear Okita had been on the verge of opening up, but as soon as he tried to question Okita, the man had immediately deflected and changed the conversation. Now, with the knowledge he had learned from Kondo, he knew what that big secret was.

Okita Soji had been born Hirayama Goro.

It all made sense now, why Okita was so interested in Ryoma getting to be himself. Even if it was only for a day. Okita had been forced to give up his own name and his previous life to become who he was now. Hirayama Goro was by all accounts dead, but the man he once was had to carry on with that knowledge unable to tell anyone. It turned out, the Shinsengumi’s biggest secret was Ryoma wasn’t even the first man under another name.

He’d also learned the identity of his masked man. The man had been right under his nose the entire time, Inoue Genzaburo. It made sense now why Inoue had been so adamant about keeping Okita and him apart. He’d recognized Ryoma right away, and probably saw him as a threat to Okita’s safety. Ryoma couldn’t blame him for it. In the end, it seemed Gen-san was a more honourable man than Ryoma believed. He’d kept Ryoma’s secret, even went out of his way to protect it. It was funny, he had spent so much time hunting for answers only to end up liking the man he was after. Or at the very least respecting him.

Unfortunately, Ryoma was still left with many unanswered questions. Why was Toyo killed? Who paid the assassin? Gen-san had taken those secrets to the grave. In fact, it seemed to be what got him killed. And now Ryoma’s last chance of getting answers appeared to be at Teradaya Inn, right under his nose the entire time.

Soon Okita stumbled out of Asahi, pulling Ryoma out of his thoughts. The first captain was seemingly in a daze with what looked like a letter clutched in his hands and a scowl on his face.

Ryoma stood up straight. “Okita?”

The sound of Ryoma’s voice seemed to startle the man out of whatever trance he was in. He glanced up. “Haw?”

“What’s that?”

Okita looked down at the letter again, staring at it for a good long moment before he stuffed it into his haori sleeve. “Nothin’, let’s go.”

“But—”

Okita stepped forward, ready to head out, but Ryoma caught his wrist, stopping him.

“Hey, are you okay?”

The first captain flinched, but he didn’t try and pull away. He wouldn’t look at Ryoma either. “We don’t have time.”

“Okita…”

“I’m not lettin’ Sakamoto Ryoma get away with what he’s done,” Okita growled, tugging his wrist back. “We need t’ hurry.”

“I know but—”

“There’s nothin’ to discuss, let’s go.”

Ryoma sighed. Okita was right. He knew Okita was right even if he didn’t like leaving things unsaid between them. He didn’t like that the other man was hurting. But he would drop it for now. He didn’t have much of a choice.

They rushed to the Inn together, managing to arrive just in time for Okita to trick Ito into leaving it up to them. Ryoma had to admit he was impressed. It took everything in him not to laugh at Ito’s barely contained excitement as he fell for Okita’s bluff. Ito was too hungry for power, but it worked in their favour. With the troops gone, that left just the two of them to take on the man who had stolen Ryoma’s name and killed the father-figures in both their lives.

Okita was ready to go, practically crawling out of his own skin with energy after that, but Ryoma was pleased he’d managed to convince Okita to let him do things his way. They were after the fake Sakamoto Ryoma, and Ryoma had no desire to risk innocent lives in the process.

“It’s that girl, isn’t it? The one that interrupted us before,” Okita demanded to know.

“Huh?”

“The person ya wanna warn,” he continued. “She yer lady friend or somethin’?”

Ryoma snorted, but didn’t justify that with an answer. Together they crept to the back of the inn.

Okita paused as they rounded the corner, nearing where the baths were. “Hm? You thinkin’ about a quick dip or somethin’? Really tryna live it up, huh?”

“I can hear water—someone must be in there,” Ryoma replied.

“Hajime-chan, why don’tcha peek in there? Maybe it’s the Sakamoto Ryoma we’re huntin’.”

Ryoma very much didn’t like the idea, but Okita wasn’t wrong. The only problem was, neither of them knew who they were looking for. At the very least, it could be one of the people Ryoma wished to warn. He shrugged in response, and with a nod of his head, they both pressed themselves against the wall. Ryoma was in the lead as they slowly crept along the side of the inn. When he was close enough, he carefully tried to peer inside.

“Well, is it him?”

Ryoma flinched. Even whispering, Okita was loud. Loud enough to alert the person who was currently in the bath. He heard them gasp, followed by a splash.

“Huh? Who’s out there?!” a familiar, feminine voice demanded, clearly startled. Ryoma recognized that voice.

Hoping to ease her fear, he quickly stepped more into view, keeping his back to her. “It’s me, Oryo.”

“Hajime-san?! What are you doing?”

“Listen quick. The Shinsengumi have the inn surrounded.”

“Huh?”

“A guest is booked here named Sakamoto Ryoma, right? Up on the second floor.”

“Yeah, but… what’s going on?” she asked.

Ryoma felt Okita press closer to his side. The man was surprisingly quiet as he listened to their conversation.

“The Shinsengumi are about to storm the place,” Ryoma continued. “Find Otose and the others and get out as quietly as you can.”

“The Shinsengumi are after Sakamoto-san?” she questioned, and Ryoma could practically feel Okita’s patience growing.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he replied. “Hurry.”

The splashing of water could be heard, and Ryoma was relieved. He just hoped that was enough because Okita was practically bouncing beside him. 

“Sounds like she’s off,” Okita said, already moving towards the door, “Well, let’s get to work, Hajime-chan!”

Ryoma opened his mouth to respond when they both froze as someone started screaming inside.

“There are men after you, Sakamoto-sama!” It was Oryo. She wasn’t just warning the others, she was warning the whole damn in. “The Shinsengumi’s here! Get out—now!”

“That’s Oryo’s voice…” Ryoma said, looking at Okita. “What’s she doing?”

“Tch, no time for answers,” Okita growled, clearly annoyed. “Your girlfriend is blowing our cover!”

“She’s not my—”

Okita took off running for the door before Ryoma had a chance to correct him, a scowl on his face. “Gotta kick off this dance!” he shouted as he slammed his foot into the door with a well-placed kick, sending the wooden frame flying off its track.

Loyalists immediately rushed to greet them and Okita was instantly in his element. The day’s scowl was suddenly replaced with a mad grin. Ryoma was almost jealous, he hadn’t been the one to cause it as they walked through the door together.

“Now this is what I came here to see,” Okita said, eye bright with contagious excitement and grin lighting up his face. It was good to see him pumped for something even if it wasn’t the best of circumstances. “Let’s do it, Hajime-chan!”

“Right!” Ryoma replied, raising his sword.

It wasn’t the first time Ryoma had fought at Okita’s side, but it was always an experience. They worked well together. Ryoma would spin away from an attack for Okita to swoop in and cut the man down. And Ryoma had his back too, firing a shot at any loyalist that got too close. Not that Okita needed the assistance, the man was ruthless, a wild grin plastered on his face the entire time.

It was thrilling.

In no time at all, they’d cut down all the loyalists who had rushed to greet them. The shishi that rushed them hadn’t stood a chance. It had almost been too easy when the two of them worked together, but there was no time to dwell on it. Sharing a quick look to check in on each other, they rushed to the front.

They had just passed into the entry way when a dragging sound had them both looking up in time to watch a shelf be shoved over the second-floor railing. They both leapt out of the way just in time, but were cut off from one another and Ryoma was forced to find another way around. He could hear the sounds of Okita fighting as he doubled back to find another way.

He was quick to backtrack, making his way down another path towards the front while Okita held off more of their attackers. When he finally made it around, Okita was waiting at the base of the stairs for him, loyalists dead at his feet.

“Took ya long enough. C’mon, let’s move!”

Together once again they charged up the stairs. And once again, their attackers didn’t stand a chance. They cut through the remaining loyalists with ease, barely breaking a sweat and soon enough they were standing outside the last room in the back. Ryoma guessed it was where the komuso was.

They shared another look and with a nod from Okita, the two rushed in.

The fake Sakamoto Ryoma was in fact in the large room, face hidden by a straw basket hat and guarded by three men.

“Damn… our whole outfits been wiped out by just these two?! They’ve gotta be monsters!” one of the shishi growled, but Ryoma ignored him. He was too busy glaring at the man who had stolen his name.

“Are you ‘Sakamoto Ryoma’? Huh?” Ryoma demanded.

Of course, the Komuso did not respond. Ryoma didn’t know what he was expecting.

“Sakamoto-sensei, don’t you worry about this dead meat!” another guard spoke up as they raised their swords, preparing to fight. The imposter pulled his sword and suddenly everyone was moving at once. The three guards rushed Okita leaving the komuso to Ryoma.

Running forward, sword raised, Ryoma met the komuso in the middle of the room. Their swords clashed together again and again. Each swing deflected with an equally powerful block and a shower of sparks as they backed each other around the room. It was a deadly dance.

It surprised Ryoma how familiar the fight felt, like he’d sparred against the man before. For all he knew, he could have. The man clearly knew him enough to steal his name and hide his face, but he couldn’t for the life of him recall who. The familiarity unnerved Ryoma as much as it angered him, and he channelled that anger into his attacks.

With a shout, Ryoma launched forward again. He slashed up through the air, but the komuso deflected his attack with ease. Ryoma spun with the momentum, freeing his gun in the process. He fired off a shot, but the komuso dodged the bullet and they were rushing at each other once again. Ryoma tucked his gun away once more to focus on fending off the fake Sakamoto’s attacks. Sparks flew with each strike, metal clanging against metal. The force of the blocks ricochetted up Ryoma’s arms, but he ignored the vibrations nearly numbing his arms.

He dodged, spinning away from another attack. He spun himself behind the komuso and slashed out. The move caught the imposter off guard. He had just enough time to whip his katana over his shoulder himself, blocking the blow behind his back, but the move sent him staggering forward, off balance.

When he regained his footing, he whipped around to face Ryoma.

Worn down and panting, the two Sakamoto’s stared each other down. Or so Ryoma assumed. He still could not see the man’s face, but neither of them moved, waiting and watching for what the other would do. Ryoma was hit by another wave of familiarity, but he pushed it aside.

“You’re supposed to be Sakamoto Ryoma, right?” Ryoma demanded. “Who are you, really?”

Of course, the man did not respond. In fact, he hadn’t uttered so much as a grunt the entire time and it unnerved Ryoma.

“What’s your endgame?” Ryoma continued, still trying to press for answers. “Why are you using my name?!” The lack of responses grated on Ryoma’s nerves further and he couldn’t hold back the flash of anger. With a growl he charged forward. Their swords met once again in a shower of sparks. “Answer me! Are you the reason Pops is dead?! It has to be you! Say something!”

This time Okita charged forward, interrupting the one-sided conversation, not that Ryoma was going to get an answer anyway. “Kamo-san says hello!” Okita shouted, announcing his attack as he ran up on the man.

The imposter shoved Ryoma away, barely dodging in time. Okita’s blade sliced through the man’s clothing, exposing his back as he fled Okita’s blade. The sight sent ice through Ryoma’s veins. He froze in place the second he saw the newly exposed skin. A familiar scar covered the fake Sakamoto’s back, one born from flames. There was only one person he knew with that scar…

But it couldn’t be...

Before he had a chance to say more, the komuso spun, throwing a smoke bomb as their feet.

“What the—?!” Okita cough as the room filled with smoke. By the time it cleared, the fake was gone. “Hajime-chan! Look— he bolted through the window! Let’s roll, Hajime-chan!”

Ryoma was too dazed to really focus on what Okita was saying. Waving away the smoke, he couldn’t help but stare out the hole now torn in the window, his mind a whirl of emotions and confusion.

“Hajime… chan?” the concern in Okita’s voice was loud and clear. If Ryoma had looked, he would have seen the worry written across his face too, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off where the man had vanished.

“It can’t be… brother?” Ryoma muttered, shock washed over him. A weird mix of horror and relief. His sworn brother wasn’t dead, but he… he’d stolen his name? Worse, he’d killed their pops? And Inoue?

He felt sick.

The Mimawarigumi burst in a moment later, but Ryoma was barely paying attention, couldn’t focus if he tried. It didn’t matter. Okita did the talking for the both of them as the men decided they were taking over the investigation. Evidently the Bakufu decided the Mimawarigumi were on the chase now. The only thing that managed to startle Ryoma out of his spiralling thoughts was Okita literally throwing himself down like a child throwing a temper tantrum. He almost laughed, if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

It turns out the order came from the admiral of the Bakufu navy, Katsu Rintaro and Ryoma barely had a second to process that information before Sasaki was in his face. He threatened Ryoma, implying he knew Ryoma wasn’t really Saito Hajime before leaving with his goons.

Ryoma’s head was still spinning by the time they were finally gone. To say the day had been long was an understatement. The walk back to the barracks had been a silent one, both men wrapped up in their thoughts. They barely spoke a word to one another as they sat down heavily on the temple steps.

They sat in silence for a while before Okita’s words drew him out of his thoughts and he looked over with a frown. Here he was being selfish, thoughts spiralling about his kyoudai when the loss of Gen-san was still fresh. All in one day so much had happened. Gen-san’s death. The revelation that not only was he the masked man, but that he was on a leash, had someone else controlling him, and that someone may very well be Takechi himself. How as Takechi still alive? 

Of course, Ito had to show his face flanked by Todo and Takeda. Ryoma really hadn’t cared for their shit.  All Ito wanted to do was hurl threats at Okita before he walked off again. Ryoma was far too tired to give a shit. He waited until they were gone before speaking to Okita again.

“Okita…” he said softly, not sure what to say. He’d been selfish, but all he wanted to do now was comfort other man. “Come with me, let’s find something to eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate something?”

“I said I’m not hungry.”

Ryoma sighed. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

Okita wasn’t looking at him. His glare was turned toward the ground, away from Ryoma like he couldn’t bear to look at him. Ryoma reached out, resting his hand on Okita’s shoulder in what he thought would be a comforting touch, but Okita instantly jerked away like he’d burned him and scrambled to his feet to get away.

“Can’t do this,” Okita mumbled, turning away.

“Soj—”

“Just leave!” Okita snapped, and Ryoma flinched. He watched as Okita stormed off leaving Ryoma standing there too stunned and confused to process what had just happened.

Shaking his head with a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, Ryoma turned away and headed back out of the barracks. It felt like a good time to visit the farm, get away for a bit and clear his head.

Maybe then Okita would talk to him.

Chapter Text

Okita leaned heavily on the table, cheek pressed into the palm of his hand as he stared down at the food before him. He poked at a few grains of rice with his chopsticks, but his appetite had been non-existent the last few days.

It had been three days since Gen-san’s death, and to say he was taking it poorly was an understatement. For starters, he’d pushed Hajime-chan away. He’d done it in a moment of grief-stricken guilt, but he hadn’t seen nor spoken to the man since. Not that he had been out of his room long enough to look for him…

He sighed heavily, setting his chopsticks down.

It was probably for the best anyway. His attachment to Hajime-chan had blinded him. He’d grown lax in his duties and hadn’t seen the danger coming until it was too late, danger that was partially Hajime-chan himself. Or, at least, partially his fault. Gen-san had paid the price for his weakness.

Okita cringed at the ache that shot through in his chest. He should have done better.

“Oi, Soji, ya need t’ eat,” Nagakura said, dragging Okita from his thoughts.

The first captain rolled his eye, shoving his food toward Nagakura. “Ain’t gotta do shit.”

Nagakura sighed. “Go talk to him.”

“No.”

Three days since Gen-san’s death and Nagakura hadn’t left him alone. Constantly mother-henning him to death like he needed to be watched every second of the day. At first, Okita hadn’t minded the company. It was a comfort to have someone else he trusted in the room even if they sat in silence most of the time. Now the lecturing was getting on his nerves.

Okita pushed himself up from the table. “Got patrols anyway.”

“We both know ya ain’t done shit in days,” Nagakura replied.

“Fuck off, Shinpa-chan.”

They both know they were empty words too, but Okita needed some air. He needed space. He was sick of being smothered as he stormed towards the entrance of the eatery. He knew Nagakura only had the best intentions, but he didn’t deserve it.

“Says the child stompin’ away.”

Okita didn’t justify it with a response as he slipped out into the brisk afternoon air and made his way through the crowds of people. Wearing his blood stained haori made it easier for him to move about as people practically leapt out of his way while he wandered aimlessly away from the eatery.

Despite the chaotic nature Okita kept up as a front, there were times he just wanted peace and quiet. After the adrenaline rushes of good fights. After a long day of patrolling. And especially when his thoughts were a mess as they were now. His emotions were in turmoil.

His feet carried him towards his normal place to hide down by the river. The spot wasn’t exactly well hidden, but it was quiet and mostly empty. The sound of the water lapping at the shore used to be a balm for the storm inside him, but now it wasn’t working. He was anxious, wound too tight to stand still even as his feet carried him down along the water’s edge.

Okita Soji had a reputation, an image to uphold. He was both feared and respected for his skills with a blade. He couldn’t be seen like this, having a breakdown. No one knew the history he had with Gen-san because no one was meant to know the truth. Even if they did, he couldn’t afford to show this weakness.

Gen-san… or well, Kamo-san at the time, had raised him since he was a boy. Taught him all he knew. Okita had been orphaned when he was just a boy, barely 12 then. His parents killed by wandering ronin. He’d been left alone to fend for himself and very well could have died as well. Probably would have had it not been for Nagakura. Of course, he wasn’t going by that name at the time either.

Nagakura had lost his own family too. He’d had been so kind to Okita then, offering to share his limited food with a boy who had been willing to kill him for it just moments before. After beating Okita’s ass for it, of course.

A small smile tugged at Okita’s lips at the fond memory.

Since that day they were their own family. Nagakura was his sworn brother, sure, but it was deeper than that. They were brothers as far as either of them were concerned. They had stuck together since.

Shortly after that, Gen-san had found them. Or rather, they found him. The two of them had been doing whatever they could to survive. Sneaking into camps, stealing food. Roaming from place to place. Distracting shop keepers so the other could grab supplies. They did whatever it took, and one night they stumbled upon Gen-san’s camp. Not realizing the danger, they snuck in only to realize too late. They put up a good fight, but they were no match for the trained assassin. However, Gen-san must have seen something in them because instead of killing them, he took them both in. He took care of them when no one else would. Fed them, kept them safe. He taught them everything he knew.

Okita owed the man his life.

They were boys when Gen-san began training them. Okita had taken to the training well, too. Gen-san had been pleased with how well he did with a blade, he was a natural with it. He’d had a real hunger to learn, to improve. To be useful.

He could still remember the first time he’d beaten Nagakura in a fight. Of course, that had just been with wooden swords and fists back then. Nothing had quite prepared him for a real fight. Beating Nagakura had made him complacent. He’d gotten cocky, thought he was on top of the world, and he paid for it with his eye. When Gen-san had taken them on their first job, Okita had thought he was ready for it. But there was a difference in fighting a man you trusted versus one out to save his own skin. He hadn’t even seen the blade coming, just felt the searing pain that had shot through his head. At just 16, he had nearly died. Would have been killed if it wasn’t for Gen-san yet again. They lost their mark, but Okita had lived to fight another day. It took a long time to heal after that and even longer to re-learn to fight. But in the end, he just came back stronger and with even more of a hunger to prove himself. To be like his master.

Nothing really changed when he became Okita Soji. It gave him the opportunity to put his less than honourable life behind him, do something good, but that hunger for strength never went away. He liked the challenge, the opportunity to improve, driven by his desire to be on the same level as his master. He never thought he would catch up to Gen-san.

When he took that name, when he became Okita, he did begin to put on an act. He acted bored and aloof to keep people at arm’s length. And it worked for a long time until Sakamoto Ryoma came into his life. The man’s strength had instantly attracted him to the newcomer. Of course, he hadn’t expected Ryoma to be so damn pretty too. He was smitten pretty quickly, annoyingly so. He told himself it was just because he wanted to know him, learn what made him tick, get a taste of that strength in a real fight. But the more he learned, the more he liked the man. Twice now Hajime-chan had kicked his ass. He’d more than earned Okita’s respect and admiration.

But things were complicated now…

His infatuation with the dancing samurai had blinded him. He’d been happy and comfortable in Hajime’s arms the night Gen-san had been killed. If he had just been there, been paying more attention… Would Gen-san still have died? He should have been there, should have saved him… Gen-san had warned him to stay away from Ryoma and Okita hadn’t listened. Now his master was dead and the guilt was eating Okita alive.

With a heavy sigh, Okita dropped down into a crouch. He reached down in front of him and plucked a flat, smooth stone from the ground, weighing it in his palm before he chucked it out over the water. The rock skipped once, twice, three times before sinking below the surface and he watched, transfixed by the ripples left behind. It wasn’t as satisfying as it once was. He felt too hollow. Standing back up, he turned away and started to head back through Rakunai when Nagakura had finally caught back up with him. They fell into step together.

Okita sighed heavily once again. “I left t’ be alone.”

“Tough shit, ya don’t need t’ be alone right now,” Nagakura replied. “You might be able t’ shove everyone else away, but that shit doesn’t work with me.”

A scowl pulled at Okita’s face as they weaved around people. He refused to look at the man beside him. “I don’t need a lecture. I need…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh. What? What did he need? Because if he thought about Hajime one more time, he was going to carve his own brain from his skull.

As usual Nagakura seemed good at reading him. “If ya won’t talk t’ him. I think it’s time ya read that damned letter from Gen-san.”

“I can’t r—”

“Excuses. Y’know he knew that.”

Okita scoffed, looking away.

“Yer hurtin’, Soji, and it’s a punishment of yer own makin’.”

Okita looked away, eyes cast toward the sky as he fought back the tears that burned his eyes. Fucking great, just what he needed in front of people. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I fucked it up. Hajime-chan… he deserves better. I couldn’t even protect Gen-san.”

“Soji, that wasn’t yer responsibility.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Okita snapped. “Please, Shinpa-chan, just let me be.”

Nagakura sighed heavily. “Fine, find me when ya wanna talk.” He squeezed Okita’s shoulder reassuringly before finally walking off. The absence did nothing to settle the ache deep in Okita’s chest.

Maybe he just needed a good fight.

He rounded the corner only to freeze in his tracks as he spotted Ryoma walking away from Tengenji temple. His eye narrowed, watching his retreating back only for Kondo to slip out of the gate the second Ryoma disappeared around a corner. If his eye could have narrowed further, it would have. What were they conspiring about now?

He was going to find out…

Picking up the pace, Okita headed straight for Kondo. “Oi, what were ya two chattin’ about?”

Kondo froze, glancing over at Okita. “Oh, Soji! You startled me there,” he replied with a chuckle, clearly avoiding the subject.

“Isami, out with it,” Okita demanded. “Ya two sneakin’ around behind our backs now?”

Kondo frowned, glancing around to make sure no one was looking. “Just your little mishap the other day at Teradaya.”

“That doesn’t require secrecy,” Okita growled. He hated when people weren’t being honest with him and he could tell straight away Kondo was hiding something. “Stop bein’ coy and spill.”

Kondo sighed and started walking. Okita assumed back to Gion as he fell in step beside him. “The man you two failed to stop, his plans were to start a war to bring down the Bakufu,” Kondo replied.

“And…?”

“Saito-san thinks he has a plan to stop a war.” Kondo didn’t bother elaborate further and Okita was beginning to get annoyed. Or maybe it was the concern for Ryoma that made him suddenly anxious.

“Isami,” he said, an edge of warning in his voice. “Tell me what he’s gonna do.”

“It’s best you stay out of it.”

Okita stopped dead in his tracks, catching Kondo’s arm to make him stop too. “Tell me. Now.”

Kondo turned to look back at him, and Okita was surprised to see a soft sort of humour in Kondo’s eyes. “Answer a question for me, first.”

“Haw?”

“You have feelings for him, don’t you?” Kondo asked.

Okita froze instantly, eye wide. He searched Kondo’s face for any sign of judgement or anger, but that soft amusement still remained. Okita frowned. “Why ya askin’ me that? I ain’t a child.”

Kondo chuckled. “So, that’s how he leashed you.”

“What’re ya on about? Just fuckin’ tell me what he’s up to,” Okita growled. The conversation was making him antsy.

“The great Okita Soji, felled by love,” Kondo continued with a laugh, it wasn’t a mocking laugh, but it grated on Okita’s nerves anyway.

Love? Who said anything about love…

“It's his strentgh. It's always been his strength,” Okita said without thinking. "I..." His eye grew large a moment later once he realized just how close to a confession that was and he quickly tried to change the subject. It didn't matter what he felt anyway.

“Fuck this, I'll find out myself,” he snarled. Letting go of Kondo, he started off in the direction Ryoma had disappeared, but he barely made it a step before Kondo was pulling him back.

“You should know, he means to meet with the Shogun himself to convince the Edo Bakufu to surrender,” he finally answered, seemingly watching Okita’s expression closely.

“He what?!” Okita barked out, eye wide with alarm as he looked back at Kondo. “That’s suicide!”

Kondo immediately tried to hush him, looking around to make sure no one had overheard them. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Then I’m goin’ with him.”

“Soji, that isn’t a good idea.”

“Just try and stop me.”

Kondo sighed. “He’ll be at the barracks.”

Okita didn’t wait around for another word. He bolted back to the barracks praying to any god that would listen that he'd make it in time.

Chapter Text

The day had been long.

An understatement, really. All Ryoma’s days felt long lately. When had his life gotten so complicated? At one time, he was just a blade ready for a hand to wield him, to be of use to a cause he believed in,

Now Kyo’s—no—Japan’s future was riding on his shoulders. So many lives expecting him not to fail and none of them had a clue. Not even the other Shinsengumi captains did.  And neither did the deputy chief who stopped Ryoma on his way out of the barracks, ambushing him like he’d been waiting for a word. Hijikata had been suspicious, pressing Ryoma to talk about his meetings with Kondo. However, Ryoma remained tight lipped. If Hijikata was unaware, there must have been a reason Kondo hadn’t spoken with him yet.

So, Ryoma brushed the deputy captain off and made his way towards the front gate.

Earlier that day, Ryoma had met with Kondo. He finally had more answers about what the fake Ryoma was up to, but he still didn’t know why. Nor could he confirm the identity of the imposter. A part of him hoped it was his kyoudai after all, to know he still lived... However, that would open up a world of consequences Ryoma wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with. Knowing all the lives the imposter had taken… he wasn’t sure he could handle knowing the man he had looked up to, his sworn brother, had been the one responsible this whole time.

Or maybe it all was Ryoma’s fault.

One of the stranger revelations of the night was a reminder of the night Ryoma had learned of Takechi’s alleged death. He’d shamefully gotten so drunk to drown out his pain, he couldn’t even remember a damn thing that had happened that night except somehow making it back to Okita’s room at the barracks. Kondo had found out though. As it turned out, the two men he’d been drinking with were none other than Katsura Kogoro and Saigo Kichinosuke. Two rivals that Ryoma had inadvertently caused an alliance between. Now he was partially responsible for Kyo’s fate too on top of all the things the imposter had done since Ryoma had come to Kyo.

Now, with Yamazaki dead and Ryoma on a suicide mission, he probably wouldn’t ever get the answers he sought. He was just going to have to make peace with that. This was all bigger than him now, bigger than Tosa. Even Toyo.

Ryoma needed to fix it even if this was the last thing he ever did.

All he wanted to do then was to go to Okita. He wanted the chance to say goodbye in case he didn’t return. A chance to apologize for the grief he’d inadvertently caused. To know Okita would be okay. However, the bloody samurai was avoiding him. He hadn’t seen the man in days.

Ryoma heaved a sigh. It was probably for the best anyway. Okita clearly didn’t want him around anymore. He was, after all, partially to blame for Inoue’s death too. It was just better this way, to just go quietly.  So, that was just what Ryoma intended to do.

Or, rather, what he tried to do.

He should have known Okita would somehow get word of what he was up to. After days of Okita clearly avoiding him, there he stood now waiting for Ryoma right outside the gate to the barracks. His eye was wide and wild as it landed on Ryoma.

“Okita…” Ryoma greeted, surprised.

“Seems like you ‘n the chief’ve been bendin’ each other’s ears an awful lot lately, huh, Hajime-chan?” the bloody samurai spoke, wasting no time in getting to the bottom of Ryoma’s plans.

“What?”

“Don’t act stupid. C’moooon, I thought we were buddies!”

Ryoma faltered, brows knitting together as he scowled. “That’s what we are now? Buddies?”

Okita ignored him. “Don’t hog all the fun!”

Ryoma just glared.

“I’m goin’ with ya to the castle. Let’s bust down them gates an’ kick some ass!” Okita continued enthusiastically, ignoring Ryoma’s glare.  Of course, out of everyone, he would be the one that had figured it out.

Ryoma’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Okita. He didn’t like the way Okita was acting like nothing had happened between them. The walls that Okita had been letting down were all back up, and Ryoma once again couldn’t get a read on him.

“Oh, so you want to be around me now?” Ryoma finally responded.

He watched as Okita’s eye twitched like the bloody samurai was doing his best not to flinch or react to Ryoma’s words. He shook it off quickly but wasn’t quite able to meet Ryoma’s gaze after that. Anyone else might have passed it off as normal politeness, but not Ryoma. He knew his words had stung.

Good.

“Hajime-chan—" Okita started, but Ryoma immediately interrupted.

“What if I said no?”

Okita’s face hardened as he searched Ryoma’s face, studying him in return. “If ya said no…” he started, “I’d hafta kill ya and go have fun on my own.” It was Ryoma’s turn not to flinch as Okita glared at him, challenging him. Was that where they were at now after everything?

 “You know this is basically suicide, right?” Ryoma replied.

“Where do you ya think the fun comes from?” Okita said in his singsong voice. “An’ this ain’t even the best part—that comes once we’ve flushed out that shitbag Ryoma.”

“Right…”

“We got a common goal here. I say we take that synergy and roll it right through that castle,” Okita continued. Synergy was a strong word coming from the man currently avoiding Ryoma like they hadn’t spent the night together. Several nights together. “Ya know the kinda deal yer getting’, landin’ my services for free?”

“I got it,” Ryoma replied, still scowling. It felt like a knot was beginning to form in his chest, heavy and uncomfortable. “But we leave at dawn. And we ought to lay low before then.”

“I gotcha—stealth-like. Well, sounds to me like we could be facin’ our last hurrah in Kyo. How’s about we make it a real howler?”

“This could be our last chance for some fun…” Ryoma agreed, feeling hopefully for the briefest of moments. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to come back from the place we’re about to intrude.”

“In that case, I’m blowin’ through every bit of my pay before we go! But, in yer case—ain’tcha got someone ya need to give one last, tender farewell…?” The jealousy and disapproval were clear even if Okita tried to play it off.

Just like that the bubble of hope Ryoma had let himself feel for just a moment, popped. He scowled, knowing he should have guessed Okita wasn’t planning on spending that time with him. If Oryo was the reason for this distance between them, Okita was an idiot and he wasn’t justifying that with a response. This distance was, after all, Okita’s fault. It wasn’t Ryoma doing the pushing away.

“Ya know, she’s still really got it goin’ on, even if she’s getting’ up there in years!” Okita continued.

Ryoma snorted and shook his head. “No, that’s the other one,” he replied without thought.

“Eh?” Okita’s eye narrowed as he glared at Ryoma.

“It’s nothing,” Ryoma mumbled, mentally kicking himself. He hadn’t actually meant to say it, didn’t realize how it sounded until the words had left his lips.

“Welp, until dawn… I’ll see ya at Teradaya,” Okita replied, voice much colder than it was before, but he shook it off a second later. His mask slipping carefully back into place. “Make sure ya enjoy life while ya still can, Hajime-chan.”

Ryoma scowled after Okita’s retreating back. He wasn’t sure what to think. If Okita didn’t want him around, why did he insist on going on this mission with him? It was going to be a long journey to Edo, and Ryoma wasn’t looking forward to being stuck with a man who was pretending nothing had happened between them. If his words had meant to hurt Ryoma, then it had worked. If Okita wanted to fuck around and pay for entertainment in Gion, then so be it. Ryoma wasn’t going to stop him.

Or forgive him.

“Ya can find ‘im down by the river not far from the bridge to Kiyomizu-dera.”

Ryoma jumped, turning to find Nagakura approaching. He couldn’t help wondering just how long Nagakura had been there listening in on their conversation. “That’s not what Okita just implied.”

“Yeah, Soji does that, pushes people way when he wants ‘em most,” Nagakura shrugged. “He’s an idiot sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

Nagakura snorted, clearly amused. “Just… take care of ‘im, okay? Try ‘n bring him back in one piece,” he muttered. “He’s all I got left.” Not waiting around for Ryoma’s reply, Nagakura turned away and disappeared back into the barracks.

Ryoma’s head was spinning when he finally remembered to move, heading down the steps in a daze.

It had been a long day indeed.

***

The sun had set by the time Ryoma had made it out of Mibu and back into Rakunai.

He had absolutely no intentions of visiting Okita. If the bloody samurai wanted to be a child about everything, it wasn’t Ryoma’s problem. Unfortunately for him, his feet seemed to have missed that memo. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was walking down along the river until, true to Nagakura’s word, he found Okita lost in thought staring out over the water.

“This is your grand night out?” Ryoma asked causing Okita to jump.

“Lookin’ forward to stormin’ Edo Castle, Hajime-chan?” Okita asked, quickly covering up the fact that Ryoma had startled him. He ignored Ryoma’s jab as he continued speaking. “’Course ya are. It’s not every day ya get to barge into a damn palace. Just try not to hog all the fun for yerself!”

It had been a bad idea to seek Okita out, Ryoma knew it. The ache in his chest wasn’t going way and talking to the other samurai was only making it worse. He sighed heavily, feeling naive to think the two of them were closer than they really were.

“Why do you want to go with me anyway?” Ryoma demanded, pain sharpening his words like the blades he wore at his hip. “It’s clear you don’t want me around. So, why? Wouldn’t it be easier to forget I exist like you have been doing since Inoue’s death?”

Okita visibly recoiled and Ryoma instantly regretted his words as Okita turned away from him. The bloody samurai stared back out over the water, clearly lost in his own thoughts. He didn’t respond for a long time. Long enough that Ryoma assumed he wasn’t going to get an answer and the silence began to grow oppressive, driving the wedge deeper into his chest. 

“Forget it,” Ryoma muttered, turning to leave. “Don’t bother coming.”

When Okita finally spoke, it was quiet, so quiet Ryoma had to strain to hear him. “I don’t hate ya, Ryoma. I never could. But I… just can’t forgive myself.”

“Forgive yourself for what?” Ryoma asked, glancing back over his shoulder at Okita. The bloody samurai was not looking at him, but it was clear he wouldn’t answer. It had been a brief glimpse of emotion before Okita had shut himself down once again.

“We’ll give that Sakamoto Ryoma a real kick in the ass,” Okita said instead. “Infiltratin’ Edo Castle’s the last thing they’d expect. I am goin’ with ya. So don’t ya dare leave without me.”

Ryoma opened his mouth to respond, but Okita never gave him the chance.

“I have t’ go take care of things. I’ll meet ya in the mornin’,” he replied, already walking off. Ryoma was left standing there dazed and confused and hurt all over again. He wanted to be mad, but didn’t even know if he had the right to be.

Heaving another sigh, Ryoma resigned himself to taking care of his own affairs. Alone. He still wasn’t even sure why Okita wanted to do this with him. Okita had someone. He had Nagakura. Ryoma had no one, he was the perfect person for the job. No one to miss him if he messed up except for maybe Haruka.

Speaking of, he really should check in with her before the journey.

***

Later that evening, Ryoma stepped off the boat, back in Fushimi. He knew he had nothing else left to prepare for tomorrow. He had spent what little time he had left visiting with Haruka, making sure she knew he would be away. He hadn’t had the heart to tell her he might not return, but at least the home was paid for. She would be safe if something happened to him.

There was only one thing left to do, and Ryoma wasn’t looking forward to it.

If he was at all honest with himself, he was still avoiding Teradaya as much as he could, but he wasn’t going to be able to avoid it for long. The prior evening, Ryoma had learned Oryo had been spying on him for the fake Ryoma. Worse, she’d been doing it from the start. She had only started to work there as a way of spying on him. He might have understood why Oryo had done what she had done, but that didn’t mean he was ready to forgive her.

It felt like the only reason Oryo had told him anything at all was because somewhere along the way, she'd developed feelings for him. A crush that Ryoma was going to have to talk to her about and wasn’t looking forward to it. It didn't help that everyone seemed to notice but Ryoma. Even Okita had picked up on it adding to the current hostility between them. Maybe his preference for men had blinded him to it, who knew. He just didn't appreciate having it used against him. Her feelings were her own and Ryoma didn't like being pressured into forgiving her just because she liked him.

He needed time, something he was running out of.

He was relieved when he slipped inside and he didn’t see her. He wasn’t ready to have to talk to her. Even though he knew there was a chance he might not make it back, he still couldn’t bring himself to seek her out. Not yet.

Quickly, he made his way up to Otose, informing her of his plans to leave the following morning, and once she said she’d wake him before dawn, he made his way up the steps to his room.

He was quick to pack up essentials he would need for the journey. Not much. A spare set of clothes, items of sentimental value, he kept I light. Anything else he would pay Otose in the morning to store for him. If he returned anyway. When he was finished, he pulled off his haori and carefully folded it. He couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last time, and it filled him with an anxious energy. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get to sleep.

Not soberly anyway.

Leaving the garment folded on the floor, he wandered over to his dresser where he snatched a bottle of sake and a cup left there for him. With a heavy sigh, he settled down on the ground to have a drink, back to the door.

Ryoma wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he slumped over onto his side, but he wasn’t surprised when he heard the door slide open. It didn’t come as a shock that Oryo would come see him. He heard her close the door, moving quietly into the room. She didn’t say a word, but he knew it was her and he wasn’t drunk enough to talk about her feelings.

Glaring at the cup in his hand, he sighed. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. What did she expect him to say? Maybe, if he was lucky, he could just avoid it all together.

But when had luck ever been on his side?

“The Shinsengumi Inspector, Yamazaki Susumu, was murdered at the barracks,” he finally said, breaking the silence.

“What?” she asked, sounding startled.

“Apparently, it was the doing of ‘Sakamoto Ryoma,’” Ryoma replied, refusing to look back at her. “I don’t think you’re in any danger, but… Try not to be out in public too much for now.”

“You don’t have to worry for my sake,” she replied softly. “Whatever happens, that’s not your fault.”

Except it was, wasn’t it? Yet another life he was responsible for even if he hadn’t asked for it. He made his choice to come to Kyo in search of Toyo’s killer. It was because of him so many lives had been impacted. People had died because of his need for answers.

“No. It would be my fault,” Ryoma replied. “I’m the whole reason you’re still wrapped up in this mess.”

“But that’s…”

Ryoma knocked back his sake before he set his cup down and pushed himself up into a sitting position, finally turning to face her. “Tomorrow, I leave for Edo. And I won’t be back until I finish what needs doing.”

“Edo?” Oryo seemed shocked. “Are you sure you want to tell me that? Like, what if I betrayed you again, huh?”

“Once I got out of Tosa, this was the only place where I ever shared my real name,” Ryoma replied. Okita knew, but he found out himself. So did Kondo thanks to Inoue. Otose and Oryo were the only two he had willingly spoken it out loud to. Funny, for all her spying Oryo had never found out.

“I don’t have anything to hide here anymore,” he continued. “Besides, depending on how things go in Edo… I may not be coming back at all.”

“Huh?”

“This is going to be a big deal.”

“What are you about to do, Hajime-san?” she asked, voice full of concern.

Ryoma stood, walking towards the open window. He stared out into the night as he pondered over what to say. “I’m planning to speak with the Shogun, face-to-face… and get him to finish off the Bakufu.”

“No way…”

“I know it’s crazy, but it didn’t feel right, not telling you,” he continued, his back still to her. For all his avoiding the subject, it seemed to be coming easier to him now. “If I can’t make it back to Teradaya, it means I’ve died with a single regret.”

“What’s that?”

Ryoma sighed, staring out the window. The sake that warmed his belly gave him more courage than he would have had otherwise. It made him want to confess to things he hadn’t even admitted to himself. “About your feelings for me…”

“Hajime-san…”

“I don’t want to lead you on,” Ryoma spoke carefully. “You should know… I… I have feelings for someone else…” He found it foolish to only realize it now. He’d spent so long denying he had felt anything only to confess it now that it was probably too late. Still, he felt a weight off his shoulders now that he’d finally spoken his feelings out loud.

Oryo was silent for a time after that and Ryoma half expected her to leave. “It’s that captain, isn’t it? The one you came here with the other night,” she eventually whispered, startling Ryoma enough that he finally turned towards her. “Okita Soji?”

“How did…”

“I know you two were here,” Oryo replied. “Together.”

Ryoma flinched, turning back to the window. That’s right, she had been spying on him after all. “Yes…”

“Thank you for telling me, Hajime-san,” she said. He heard the shuffling of clothing and knew she must have stood back up. “Please stay safe and return to us.”

And then she was gone, leaving Ryoma to his thoughts.

Chapter Text

Ryoma’s back hit the wall knocking the breath from his lungs, but he didn’t mind as Okita pressed up against him, pinning him there. Fists clenched into the blood stained haori, holding him close as if Okita would disappear the moment he let go. He returned the bloody samurai’s wild grin.

“We could get caught,” Ryoma breathed out, feeling the heat radiating off Okita.

“So?” The look of challenge in Okita’s eye sent molten arousal straight to Ryoma’s groin. “Do ya wanna stop?”

“Absolutely not.”

Their lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth as Okita licked into Ryoma’s mouth, swallowing down the moan Ryoma let out. Hands were all over Ryoma at once. Pushing off his haori, tugging at the ties of his hakama. He vaguely heard the sound of his swords clatter to the floor as his obi was tugged free and discarded over Okita’s shoulder. His hakama fell, bunched around his ankles.

Okita broke the kiss, nipping at Ryoma’s lower lip and tugging. Ryoma chased after him for another kiss, but the bloody samurai dipped his head down, soft lips brushing against Ryoma’s neck. Fingers yanked open the dancing samurai’s kimono and warm palms slid over his abs.

“I missed you,” Ryoma whispered, head falling back against the wall with a soft thud. He shivered, trying to pull Okita closer. The other man felt so far away despite there barely being any space between them.

“Been here the whole time,” Okita whispered into his neck. Tongue teased over sensitive flesh before teeth sank down in.

Ryoma groaned, shuddering under Okita’s touch. He arched into it, still refusing to let go of Okita’s haori. Somewhere in the back of his mind a little voice was telling him something wasn’t right, but as those teasing lips moved up his neck, he tuned it out.

How could this be wrong? He had the man he wanted.

“Let Soji take care of ya,” Okita purred in his ear sending heat straight to Ryoma’s dick.

The dancing samurai moaned. “Please…”

Okita dropped to his knees, leaning in to kiss his way up Ryoma’s thigh, tongue and teeth teasing at skin drawing soft cries and pleas from Ryoma’s lips. He paused to suck a mark into Ryoma’s tanned skin.

Ryoma was on fire, burning up with desire and Okita’s hands were a cool balm against his feverish skin.

Wait…

When had he gotten so cold? Okita’s hands were like ice as they teased up over Ryoma’s abs and the dancing samurai gasped at the touch, sucking his stomach in out of shock.

“Okita, your hands…”

“What’s wrong, Ryoma-chan? Don’t like me now that ya got me killed?” When Okita looked back up at him again, his face was wrong. His eye had gone white and cloudy. His cheeks sunken in, skin sallow and practically peeling off. He looked like death as his pale, cracked lips slit into a maniacal grin.

Ryoma yelped, stumbling to the side and out of his grasp in fright. He tripped over his fallen hakama and went flying backwards right into the solid arms of another. When he glanced up, he saw the stern eyes of Nagakura glaring back at him.

“I thought I told ya to keep ‘im safe.”

“But he’s—”

The icy hand of fear clutched at Ryoma’s heart, despair washing over him as he glanced back at Okita only now the other samurai was laid out on the ground covered in only a rush mat where Gen-san had been before. Around him stood the other Shinsengumi captains all staring at Ryoma with disgust.

“He trusted you,” Hijikata said.

“He loved you,” Nagakura added.

“Look what you did,” Todo said, pointing a finger at Okita’s body.

“No, no, no, no,” Ryoma gasped. He shoved away from Nagakura and stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees and crawling the rest of the way to Okita’s side. “I didn’t… I never… He’s not dead!”

“Still so pretty in death,” Takeda said, and Ryoma felt sick.

“Such a shame,” Ito added.

“HE’S NOT DEAD!” Ryoma shouted as bile rose in his throat.

“You killed him.”

Ryoma didn’t know who hurled the accusation at him this time. Panic was quickly rising up inside him and all he could do was cry out in anguish. It wasn’t true, he never would have hurt Okita.

Okita wasn’t dead.

He couldn’t be.

“NO!” he yelled. “Don’t… don’t leave me…”

“THEN JOIN ME!” Okita shouted as he suddenly sat up and lunged for Ryoma. There was a tanto in his hand now, and aimed right at Ryoma.  “IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN YOU!”

The dagger plunged straight into his stomach.

***

“NO!!!”

Ryoma shot up from his futon with a shout, in a near panicked state as he clutched at his abdomen. He gasped for breath, heart hammering away in his chest so hard he was afraid it would escape. He looked frantically around the room as he tried to take in his surroundings.

It took far too long for him to realize it had all just been a nightmare. A terrible, awful nightmare. He was still at Teradaya. Alone. They hadn’t left yet. Okita hadn’t stabbed him. And most importantly, Okita was safe. Alive.

For now.

He clutched at his stomach still, trying to remind himself he was okay. The dream had felt all too real. His lungs were still heaving and his heart was in his throat. It had all been a dream. The coalescing anxieties about the upcoming suicide mission and a mix of guilt at the fact Ryoma was probably leading Okita to his death. It had made for a terrible night of fitful sleep and even worse dreams.

Scrubbing his face with a groan, he flopped back against the futon. He supposed he should get ready now. There would be no getting back to sleep after that. His heart still hadn’t calmed. He wasn’t even sure what time it was.

If he was lucky, maybe it was still early enough for him to slip away before Okita arrived. He couldn’t be the reason Okita died. He wouldn’t… Wishful thinking, however, he knew Okita would just track him down and be even more furious with him if he tried that. He might even follow through with that threat to kill Ryoma.

He sighed heavily.

The soft padding of footsteps could be heard outside the room. It wasn’t Oryo this time and he briefly wondered if she was avoiding him now. Not that that would be the worst thing to happen. He rolled his head to the side to watch as the door slid open.

It was Otose who stepped through the door. “Oh, Saito-san, you’re awake.”

Ryoma hummed in response, pushing himself back up into a sitting position, he rubbed his face again, stifling a yawn. He must have looked in such a sorry state, his hair a mess from tossing and turning, eyes dark from lack of sleep. His suspicions were confirmed by the way he caught Otose analysing him when he finally glanced over.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Nightmare,” Ryoma muttered, looking away again. “It’s nothing.”

“Uh huh,” she responded. “Well, I will leave you to get ready in peace. See me before you leave? I’ll send you off with breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Ryoma replied.

Ryoma pulled himself to his feet as soon as Otose had left the room, sliding the door shut behind her. He stretched himself out with a low groan before grabbing a brush to comb his hair out. Once his hair was straightened out and tied up once again, he cleaned his face with the warm water left on his dresser. Feeling more refreshed after he’d cleaned himself up, he then peeled himself out of his yukata and folded it to be packed. Soon he was dressed in a clean pair of hakama and a fresh kimono.

Finally, he retrieved his captain’s haori from where he’d left it folded on the floor and placed it safely on top of the dresser. He paused then, running his fingers over the blue fabric. This could be the last time he saw it. The last time he would ever be in Kyo. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Kondo he was glad he’d joined the Shinsengumi. They might not have had a great reputation amongst the people of Kyo, but Ryoma was grateful for the opportunity he’d had to do some good as a captain. Even if he had only joined initially to learn who had killed his pops, his time there hadn’t all been bad, and now he would have the opportunity to do something greater than himself.

Ryoma sighed heavily and turned away. There was no use stalling any longer. He quickly walked over to the clothing he was bringing with him and added his yukata to the mix before tying the bundle up and throwing it over his shoulder. He had packed light, nothing more than a spare kimono, his yukata, a plain haori should he need it, and a shunga for luck. Then, with one last look back at the room, he slipped out and headed down the stairs.

Otose was waiting downstairs when he approached. “Ready to leave?”

With a nod, he reached into his kimono sleeve to retrieve his coin purse. He wanted to pay his tab before he left, and maybe leave a little extra to hold the room. Though a part of him thought it foolish. There was a likelihood he wouldn’t be returning. And what then? He didn't have family left to receive his things. No wife, or... well, Okita probably wouldn't have wanted it anyway even if he wasn't going to be at his side. Haruka then, if she'd want them... He didn’t have much.

Ryoma shook off the thoughts with a sigh. No use dwelling now. He’d made his choice and his lack of those that would miss him only made his decision easier. He looked back at Otose as he spoke, “First, I should clear up my debts.”

“No need, that handsome captain friend of yours paid it this morning,” Otose replied.

“Wh—Okita?” Ryoma asked, shocked. Why would he want to pay off Ryoma’s debts? He frowned in thought.

“Yes, he said he’ll be waiting outside,” she replied as she pulled out a wrapped bento for him to take. “And there is enough food in that for the both of you.”

“I—Thank you for everything, Otose,” he replied, touched she had been so kind to him after all the trouble he’d unknowingly brought into their lives. “I have no right to ask, but would you mind doing me one last favour? I will pay of course.”

“What do you need?”

“My things… If I don’t make it back. Would you mind sending them to this address?” Tucking his coin purse back into his sleeve, he retrieved a letter to Haruka that he’d had tucked away beside it. He handed it over to Otose and she nodded.

“No need to pay,” she said with a nod. “Just make sure you come back so I don’t have to send this.”

“Thank you again,” Ryoma replied, with a smile.

“Be safe, Saito-san,”

Ryoma smiled at her before he turned away and headed for the door. He slipped his shoes on and was out into the chill air where he found Okita already waiting for him. He was half surprised to see him and with a kimono on no less. The sight of him still made Ryoma’s heart skip a beat even though he was mad at him. He was worried too.

The journey was going to be a long one.

Okita was crouched down glancing over at him as he approached. His expression was blank and unreadable as he watched Ryoma walk closer. Ryoma wondered just how long he’d been waiting there. 

“Okita,” he greeted.

“Ya get a goodbye quickie in with yer lady?” Okita asked, and Ryoma scowled. He still had no clue why he was so determined to get under his skin. Was he jealous? Okita was the one pushing him away, he didn’t have a right to be jealous.

Ryoma’s frown only deepened. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Okita was still acting this way. If he wanted to be mad at him, then be mad at him. But refusing to let him go alone? The constant teasing and seeming like he was jealous of anyone that might be interested in Ryoma? It was getting old, and Ryoma didn’t get what his game was. He was honestly just tired of it.

“I don’t think that’s your business,” he responded colder than he meant to.

Okita’s eye narrowed as he scrutinized Ryoma. He still hadn’t bothered to stand. “Aw, don’t be sore! I just had my own tender goodbyes with someone special.”

It took everything in Ryoma’s power not to flinch, not to react at all despite the surge of jealousy he felt. He knew that was what Okita wanted. The man was watching him, eye wide and unblinking. When he didn’t get the reaction he seemed to want, he scowled and looked away.

“Told me to give ya this,” Okita continued a second later, and Ryoma finally noticed what he was holding.

“Is that a letter?” Ryoma asked.

Okita nodded. “It’s from Kondo-san. For the Tokugawa Shogun.”

“So that’s who you were saying goodbye to…” Ryoma asked, only minorly relieved. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to calm himself down before he could say something he would regret. He should have felt more relieved to know it was just Kondo, but Okita seemed determined to hurt him like he wasn’t the one pushing Ryoma away.

Did he still blame Ryoma for Gen-san’s death? He supposed he couldn’t blame him…

Of course, Okita found amusement in fucking with him too. He practically giggled at himself, a smug grin on his face. “He said to give this to the Shogun if either of us make it to him alive.”

Ryoma frowned as memories of his nightmare resurfaced. He was quick to shove them down and snatch the letter from Okita as the bloody samurai finally stood up. He had to admit, he was curious as to what it said, but he knew now wasn’t the time. They would have a long journey ahead. So, instead he carefully tucked it away in his kimono sleeve for safe keeping.

Okita bent to grab his things and slung them over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Last chance to turn back now,” Ryoma said.

Okita frowned. “Tryin’ t’ get rid of me already, Hajime-chan?”

Ryoma scowled. “No, I… you know we most likely won’t make it back, right? I’m okay with that, but I am not okay with getting you killed too.”

Okita snorted and headed in the direction of the boat that would take them up the river. “I ain’t yer responsibility,” he replied coldly, without looking back. “I make my own decisions, and this is my choice. You won’t take it from me.”

“That’s not… never mind. Forget it…” Ryoma sighed and set out after Okita.

The silence that settled over them was awkward at best, but Okita fell in step beside him as they headed for the ship. The first leg of their journey would be by boat, but the majority would be on foot. If they were lucky and the weather held, they would make it to Edo by week’s end.

“Which route we takin’?”

“Tokaido road.”

Okita nodded in response and they quickly boarded the boat. As Shinsengumi, they could have been carried in kago, but they were trying to blend in. They didn’t need to have attention drawn to themselves if they intended to make it there unnoticed. So, by ferry and on foot it was.

“Gonna get some sleep. Wake me when we get t’ the first station,” Okita grumbled, disappearing into the boat without another word.

Ryoma just shook his head and retreated to the front of the ship as they set off on their journey.

It really was going to be a long one.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly two days since they had left Kyo. The boat ride had given them a head start, taking them along the river before they had continued their journey on foot. Stopping once only to rest for the night, they had set back out on the road at first light earlier that day. Now it was late afternoon as they continued their journey.

Okita sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that day, and Ryoma braced himself for whatever nonsense was about to pass his lips. It had been nonstop complaints since they set out on foot and Ryoma couldn’t tell if it was another tactic to push him away or Okita just hated walking in general.

“Hajime-chan, why not rent a palanquin?” Okita asked, and not for the first time that day.

“We cannot draw attention to ourselves,” Ryoma replied with an irritated sigh of his own.

“Then let’s hire horses,” Okita continued.

Ryoma had to bite his tongue before he snapped. The walking was tiring enough, but the nagging was the worst part. Thankfully, they weren’t far from the next station. They were on course to arrive before nightfall assuming he didn’t stop to strangle Okita first…

“That’s even less discreet,” Ryoma replied dismissively.

“No one’s gonna question two samurai on horseback,” Okita shot back.

“Word could get out, it’s not exactly common.”

“That’s ‘cause most people aren’t even allowed t’ travel.”

Ryoma scowled at that. He knew how oppressed people could be, trapped by their status in society. If one was unable to obtain permissions to travel, they risked imprisonment or worse. And as far as status went, the samurai themselves were no better. He had wanted so badly to fight for freedom in Tosa. Now that journey had become so much greater than just his hometown. Greater than himself…

He sighed heavily. Never in a hundred years did he think this would become his path in life.

“Hirin’ horses will get us there faster,” Okita said, interrupting Ryoma’s thoughts. “Y’know, before they even realize we’re comin’.”

Ryoma rolled his eyes. It had been Okita who insisted he tag along and here the man was complaining constantly about having to travel by foot. It was beginning to grate on Ryoma’s nerves, but he suspected that was exactly what Okita wanted. “You didn’t have to come.”

“Someone had to protect Hajime-chan from bandits.”

Ryoma snorted, refusing to play further into Okita’s taunts with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, I’d like to reach the next inn before the sun sets.”

“Why? It is the bandits, ain’t it? Hajime-chan fears the bandits!” Okita pressed, continuing to tease as he grinned madly. “I’ll protect my damsel from them, don’t ya worry.”

“I’m beginning to miss when you were ignoring me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryoma saw Okita wince and then immediately try to play it off as if he hoped Ryoma hadn’t noticed. The bloody samurai covered it up by throwing his head back and letting out a loud cackle. “Ouch, ya wound me, Hajime-chan!”

The conversation died again after that, but it wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Either way, Ryoma hated it. He’d thought there had something between them only for Okita to revert right back to how he was when they’d first met. And now they were stuck traveling together. It was making him painfully aware of the wedge Okita had driven between them.

Although at least the silence meant Ryoma was no longer being teased further as they made their way along the stone-paved path. So, there was that…

Trees had been planted on either side, shading their journey from the sun. The light filtered down through the leaves, glittering like gems over the stones at their feet. Despite Okita’s interruptions, Ryoma was enjoying the walk. He refused to dwell on what they were or were not to each other. Okita made it very clear there wasn’t anything between them. So, instead he found something else to concentrate on, keeping his mind from wandering.

Like the fact they were being followed.

Ryoma had first picked up on it earlier that day when they took their leave of a tavern after lunch, heading back out on the road. Bandits, most likely, had begun to trail them. Ryoma wondered just how long they had been following them before he had noticed their presence. Now that they weren’t far from the next station, he knew if their pursuers were going to make a move, it would surely be soon.

“We’re being followed,” Ryoma said, dropping his voice so only Okita would hear him. Not that it mattered because Okita didn’t seem to care if they knew.

“’Bout time ya noticed, Hajime-chan! Are ya losin’ yer edge?” Okita responded loudly.

Ryoma scowled at him. “Can you be serious for once?”

Okita rounded on him, forcing Ryoma to stop in his tracks or risk crashing directly into the bloody samurai. “When am I not serious about a fight?” he demanded. “I tried t’ warn ya!”

Ryoma just scowled, trying to sidestep Okita, but the other samurai wasn’t having it. He just moved with Ryoma, blocking his path. “Can we just stop this bickering?” Ryoma said. “It’s getting old.”

Okita tilted his head. “Haw? Does Hajime-chan need a nap? Awful cranky since we got off the boat.”

Ryoma rolled his eyes. “And why do you think that i—Okita, watch out!”

The world seemed to slow down around them as Ryoma watched with wide eyes when one of the bandits sprang out from between the trees. Their bickering had left the perfect opportunity for the bandits to surround them and now one of them was running right for Okita, katana trailing at the man’s side as he rushed at them.

The bandit was fast, but Okita was faster.

Ryoma tried to reach for Okita, pull him out of the way, but Okita dodged his attempt and reached for Ryoma’s katana. Yanking it free from its sheath, he spun around to face the bandit. His body moved in one fluid motion. The clang of metal echoed in Ryoma’s ears as Okita blocked the ronin’s attack with ease. He shoved the man off with gleeful laughter and rushed at him before the bandit could regain his footing. He slashed out with Ryoma’s katana, cutting straight across the bandit’s stomach.

The world seemed to speed up after that as bandits leapt out, surrounding them with angry cries. There were 8 of them in total, not counting their fallen friend. One of them had leapt out of the bush in front of Okita, and Ryoma didn’t hesitate to yank out his gun. He aimed quickly over Okita’s shoulder and pulled the trigger before the bandit could even get close. The bullet hit its mark, blasting the man backwards and clear off his feet.

Okita looked startled by the sound before he shot a wild grin over his shoulder at the dancing samurai. Quickly stepping away, Okita pivoted and tossed Ryoma’s katana back at him. Ryoma spun, catching the sword out of the air as he fired off another shot at a bandit behind himself, dropping the man instantly. Okita sounded pleased as he yanked his own sword free.

“Ready for some fun, Hajime-chan?”

Ryoma couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. Okita’s excitement had no business being so infectious, but he shot the man a grin anyway. He really did like fighting at Okita’s side. “Let’s go.”

He rushed forward, katana slicing up through the air to block the attack of a balding man. He knocked the man’s blade away like it was nothing and spun out of the path of another attacker, firing off a shot that took the second man down.

The balding ronin cried out in anger as his friend dropped, and charged Ryoma with renewed vigour, sword raised above his head. The rage blinded him and Ryoma ducked out of the way with ease. Spinning, he kicked the balding ronin in the back and sent him staggering forward, off balance. Okita cut him down, flashing Ryoma a wild grin before he turned back to fight off two more men.

Ryoma felt himself grinning in response. Adrenaline was flowing through his veins as he blocked another attack, the force of which travelled up his arm, but he shoved the long-haired man off.

They circled each other, waiting for the other man to charge. Fortunately, Ryoma had patience the long-haired man did not. With his sword clenched in both hands and positioned at his side, the long-haired ronin charged at Ryoma with a loud cry. Ryoma held his ground, lifting his gun. He took aim and fired off another shot. The bullet missed as the man dodged off his set path, but the move took him too close to Okita. The bloody samurai cut him down too without a second thought, clearly enjoying himself.

The momentary distraction allowed another bandit to run up on Okita, but he was no match for Ryoma’s gun. He fired off another shot, hitting the man in his shoulder. The bandit cried out in pain, stumbling as Okita spun and ran him clean through with his sword.

It was a rush to fight at Okita’s side. All the drama between them, the arguments and bickering of the last few days, it all melted away. None of it mattered in that moment. They worked so well together. It gave Ryoma hope for what they were about to face in Edo. Maybe they did stand a chance.

Together.

And now there were only two bandits left. The two Okita had been fighting. A tall man with wild hair and a shorter one in a bright green kimono. It looked far too large on the short man, and Ryoma wondered just who he’d stolen it from.

Okita rushed towards Ryoma, his sword clutched at his side, gaze on the taller bandit behind the dancing samurai. Ryoma couldn’t help his moment of distraction, admiring Okita’s speed and strength. The dancing samurai held his ground until the last moment, eyes fixed on Okita. At the last second, he spun out of Okita’s way, turning to watch as Okita dashed past him and leapt at the taller bandit.

He didn’t get to stare long. Ryoma had to tear his eyes away as the smaller bandit charged him, and suddenly he was locked into a fight, their swords clashing, the sound of metal filling the air. He spun out of the way of another swing, elbowing the bandit in the face. He spun again, ducking around the man before kicking him in the back. The man went flying forward, falling into the path of Okita and the ronin he was fighting. The tall bandit tripped over his friend, falling at Okita’s feet.

The smaller man who had been fighting Ryoma was the first to recover. He swung out before he even returned to his feet, aiming for Okita’s legs, but Ryoma was quicker. He fired another shot and the bullet went straight through the man’s hand, forcing him to drop his sword as he cried out in agony, curling up into a fetal position and clutching his ruined hand to his chest.

Okita moved then, snatching the man’s dropped katana before driving it down into the second man’s thigh, pinning him to the ground and successfully incapacitating the last two ronin.

It hadn’t taken either of them long to dispatch the bandits when they worked together. They had hardly even broken a sweat in the process. Ryoma was almost disappointed. He flicked the blood off his katana with a jerk of his wrist before sheathing the sword. He looked up in time to see Okita doing the same.

The first captain’s eye was wild and fixed on him. The second their eyes met, Okita moved forward. With each step he picked up the pace until his body slammed into Ryoma’s, pressing him up against a tree and knocking the breath from Ryoma’s lungs. The dancing samurai barely had a moment to wrap his mind around what was happening before Okita’s lips were on his, kissing him fiercely.

The tension drained out of Ryoma in an instant. Adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as arousal instantly stirred inside him and he reached forward, gripping Okita’s kimono and pulling him close as if there was any space left between them to begin with. A muffled moan escaped his lips as Okita’s tongue invaded his mouth, brushing against his, and Ryoma felt the desperation in it. The need.

He was drowning and Okita was the oxygen he needed to live.

Okita pulled back just enough to whisper his given name, the real one this time before Ryoma was chasing after his lips once again, kissing him hard, quickly losing themselves in the feel of each other, their bodies pressed impossibly close together. He was drowning and Okita was the oxygen he needed to live. Ryoma wanted nothing more than to rip Okita’s clothing from his body, feel his skin pressed against his own. To tear down the last barrier that kept them apart.

The bloody samurai seemed to have the same thought. He immediately reached for Ryoma’s hakama. Desperate fingers tried to slip their way in, get at Ryoma’s skin, and he moaned. The first captain’s desperation only heightened the molten desire that shot to Ryoma’s cock.

Ryoma was so lost in the moment he barely registered the sound of hoot beats. It took a moment for it to register through the fog of arousal descending over them both, and Ryoma caught Okita’s wrist before he it could dip into his fundoshi. It took all the strength in the world to pull the bloody samurai’s hand from his pants where he wanted it desperately.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Hear what?” Okita mumbled, leaning in to kiss Ryoma again. When Ryoma turned his head, Okita leaned in further, kissing his way down the dancing samurai’s neck. It made Ryoma shuddered, almost distracting him again.

“Shh, listen.”

The sound of galloping was getting closer and they quickly shot apart, trying to reorganize their clothing with haste just in time to see a group of samurai approach on horseback. Most likely patrolling from the looks of it.

“What’s this?” one of the men announced. Ryoma assumed he was the leader.

“Bandits attacked us,” Okita replied, and Ryoma was acutely aware of the first captain putting distance between them. His heart sank, body missing the warmth of him already. His mind was still reeling from the speed with which they’d had to separate.

“And your business traveling?” the samurai demanded.

“We’re on course for Edo,” Ryoma answered.

“May I see your permits, sir?”

“Yes,” Ryoma replied, sparing a glance at Okita before he stepped forward to show the man their documents.

The man Ryoma presumed to be in charge quickly looked over the papers he was handed. “Alright, go on,” the man replied, handing the documents back. “We’ll see to these bastards.”

Ryoma nodded, thanking the men, before he turned to see Okita already heading off down the road. It didn’t take long to catch up to Okita, the man hadn’t gotten that far. He fell into step with him quite quickly, but it was clear the moment from earlier had passed. Okita had locked himself up tight once again.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” Ryoma asked after the silence started to get to him.

“A moment of weakness,” Okita replied, refusing to look at him.

“Soji—”

“Drop it.”

Ryoma sighed, step slowing momentarily as his heart sank once again. He shook the feeling off with a scowl. A moment of weakness was right. What had he been thinking? Or, not thinking, clearly. Nothing had changed between them and he should have known better to think it had. With a scowl, he picked up his pace once again, leaving Okita to catch up this time.

“Next time, don’t touch my katana,” he growled as he purposely bumped into Okita’s shoulder in passing.

Okita snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it. The weights off. Could’ve gotten me killed and it would’ve been yer fault!”

That startled an incredulous laugh out of Ryoma. “My fault? Keep your hands off my sword then!”

And just like that, they were back to bickering.

Chapter Text

Evening had arrived by the time they had reached their next stop and the sun was nearly gone from sky. The last few rays of light peeked over the horizon to be replaced by the moon shortly. There was a cool breeze rustling the leaves in the trees and the sound of insects filled the silence between them, but the quiet was still deafening to Okita.

They both booked separate rooms and Ryoma had stomped off without a word, not that Okita could blame him. Neither of them had spoken much since they’d left the scene of the fight. It was his fault after all.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt…

Sighing heavily, Okita made his way to his own room. Sliding the door closed behind him, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag on the floor. The plain haori he was wearing followed a moment later as he moved further into the room to get himself cleaned up.

Okita hadn’t had a very good start in life. Orphaned and alone until he’d met Nagakura, he’d had to turn to less than respectable methods to survive, and even then he was barely surviving. At least not until Gen-san had saved them both. Not that anything they had been doing after that was honourable either. Gen-san had been a deserter. Okita had been too young to really grasp what that meant at the time, but joining up with him, becoming bandits and fleeing the Mito Domain together, it had made him and Nagakura deserters too. They had not been honourable men back then. Not that it mattered at the time, Okita would have followed Gen-san anywhere. He owed him everything.

And yet… he hadn’t been able to give up Ryoma for him…

Sighing once again, he shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts. He had learned so much from his master. Despite Gen-san’s shady past, the samurai was a kind and honourable man and Okita was nothing if not loyal even now. Gen-san had saved his life in so many ways. Taught him how to use a sword, moulded him into the samurai he was today, encouraged that thirst for strength. Gen-san had given him a purpose.

Even though, despite everything Gen-san had ever done for him, he’d failed to protect his master when he’d needed him most… Why? Because he’d been busy following Ryoma around like a lost puppy begging for an ounce of attention.

The day Okita was forced to become another man, to take up the name of Okita Soji, he’d promised himself to start living his life as a better man. Gen-san had taken Ryoma’s father’s life in an attempt to restore Okita’s and Nagakura’s honour, and it had worked despite the circumstances. Hirayama Goro had died so he could live on as Okita Soji. A new life. An honourable one.

Until Ryoma had showed up seeking revenge…

Okita grabbed a cloth from the dresser, dipping it into the basin of clean water that had been placed there for guests. He scrubbed his face clean, more aggressively than he’d meant to, as if that would clear away the thoughts of a certain samurai.

Had been Ryoma’s ploy all along, to drive a wedge between him and his master?

Even just thinking that had Okita snorting. Ryoma upheld the principles of bushido steadfastly. Even if he had known his masked man was Gen-san, he wouldn’t have used Okita like that. Sure, Okita’s interpretation of the samurai code may have been a little loose at times, but he took it seriously too. Honour, bravery, loyalty… Ryoma really was the best of them. He was a good man, an excellent swordsman. A hell of a samurai. Okita was drawn to the dancing samurai man, his strength, his kindness, his sense of honour… Everything about him drew Okita in, commanded his loyalty, and Okita was more than willing to give it.

But that was the problem wasn’t it?

It felt wrong. Like he was betraying Gen-san in a way. So soon after his death, to be following another man so closely. And the man who was wrapped up in the whole situation too. Inoue had forbidden him from following Ryoma, and here he was. Following Ryoma to what would likely be their deaths.

Okita growled, splashing his face with cool water. It did absolutely nothing to calm the turmoil inside of him, and he started pacing the room again. If he wasn’t careful, he’d wear a hole right through the tatami at the rate he was moving. He couldn’t help it though. He felt so wound up, like adrenaline was still flowing through his veins even though the fight had been hours ago. His own mind kept betraying him, wandering back to Ryoma whenever he let it rest.

He shouldn’t be thinking about him, but he couldn’t stop.

Okita let out a shout of anger, shoving the fresh linens right off the dresser as if that would quell the feelings inside him, the hurt and longing. His desire for Ryoma and the warring voice in his mind telling him he had to stay loyal to a dead man’s wishes. He didn't do this. He didn't fall for people.

So why couldn't he stop thinking of Ryoma?

No, he just needed to get it out of his system, right? That's all it was. He was just pent up. That was all, excess energy after a good fight. But the thought of being with anyone else had lost its appeal. Okita’s desire burned for only one man. He could still remember the way Ryoma's lips felt against his, soft and hungry. Both of them fuelled by the adrenaline of the fight. The exhilaration of having fought together. Ryoma was so strong and insanely graceful as he spun around their enemies, dispatching them like they were nothing.

Fuck. Okita wanted him.

The way Ryoma had had his back, gunning down any ronin that had gotten too close to Okita. He'd been so beautiful, dancing around their enemies.

Okita swore again, feeling himself getting hard. He shivered, letting his eyes slip shut as he remembered the feel of Ryoma pressed up against him, just as turned on and desperate as Okita was post-fight. The feel of their bodies pressed together, Ryoma’s soft lips on his.

He shivered.

Heat surged to Okita’s cock and he decided to stop fighting his own need. His breath hitched as he slowly palmed himself through the thick fabric of his hakama. His head tipped forward as a groaned escaped his lips.

He’d tried. He’d tried so hard to push Ryoma away, deny what he felt, that connection between them. But he could still feel the heat of Ryoma’s body pressed against his, the kiss they had shared earlier. He wanted more.

He needed him.

Tugging his blades free, he placed them safely on the dresser before his fingers dropped to the ties of his hakama. Hastily untying them, he let his pants fall right where he stood before stepping out of the pool of fabric and making his way to the futon. He tugged off his obi, dropping it on the way. Wasting no time, he tugged out the futon, not caring how it lay as he stood back up to shrug off his kimono until he stood in only his juban and fundoshi that was doing nothing to hide his straining erection. He shivered as he gave himself a quick squeeze through the fabric before that too was joining his other clothing on the floor.

Sinking to his knees first, he hastily spit into his palm before settling onto his back. Okita wasted no time in taking himself in hand, groaning lowly as he stroked himself from root to tip and back down again. His shivered, letting his eyes fall closed as he tried to focus on the pleasure.

His mind wandered back to the way Ryoma's body responded so eagerly to his touch. Was Ryoma aware of the way he trembled in Okita's arms, body arching against him? So needy and sexy and strong. Okita threw his head back, gasping as heat surged to his cock. He felt himself pulse in his hand, pleasure flowing through him. He wished so badly for Ryoma to be there with him now.

He let out a breathy moan.

If Ryoma was there now... oh how he wanted to pin the dancing samurai down on the futon, ride him all night. Feel that perfect cock split him in two. He missed it. He missed Ryoma and it was all his fault for pushing him away.

The sound of the door being slid open barely registered in Okita’s ears, but he heard a familiar gasp and knew exactly who it was. He shuddered, knowing before he even looked that Ryoma’s eyes were on him. His head rolled to the side, a heavily lidded eye meeting Ryoma’s gaze, but he refused to stop. Refused to be embarrassed for being caught.

Part of him wanted to give in, beg Ryoma to join him. To feel him pressed up against him, to know Ryoma wasn’t still mad at him. He was sick of this fight. It was his fault, he knew that. It was stupid to push Ryoma away just because he was hurting.

“Ryoma,” he moaned breathlessly.

He watched through thick lashes as the dancing samurai stumbled backwards, cheeks flushed with embarrassment despite the scowl on his face. Ryoma nearly knocked into the dresser before fleeing the room, sliding the door shut harder than necessary.

Cold settled in Okita’s chest and he collapsed back against the futon with a frustrated sigh. The mood was killed instantly, and he his spirits deflated with it. Stupid, so stupid. What had he been thinking? He yanked his juban over himself, covering himself up as best he could before he finally sat up. He’d gotten so caught up in the moment, he’d forgotten… Ryoma was mad at him too.

Maybe what they’d had was beyond fixing.

It was then Okita’s gaze landed on Inoue’s letter. It must have slipped free from his haori sleeve in his haste to shed his clothing. It laid there on the tatami floor, mocking him, filling him up with such guilt it made his heart clench. He didn't need to know what it said. Inoue had been very clear that he hadn't approved of Ryoma, and Okita was failing him.

With a growl of frustration, he shoved himself to his feet and began pulling his clothing back on. He needed to get out, go for a walk. Anything to clear his thoughts.

****

The cool night air had done nothing to calm Okita’s nerves by the time he returned to the inn in search of food. He just hoped Ryoma would have retired for the night because he wasn’t looking forward to facing him just yet. Which is, of course, why he immediately ran right into the man barely a step inside the entrance. He’d tried to sneak past the dancing samurai, but it was too late, Ryoma had already seen him.

“Okita…” Ryoma caught his wrist as he tried to turn and flee. “We should talk.”

“’bout what?” he snapped. Hurt had him lashing out. “Caught me in a private moment and ya think we’re good again?”

“That’s not—”

“Heard me moan yer name, that it?” Okita sneered, pressing in close. “Did it get ya all hot and bothered?”

Ryoma’s cheeks turned red and he wasn’t quite able to meet Okita’s gaze after that. His eyes shifting to the faces of people passing them by and Okita assumed he was worried about being overheard. “I—”

“Good. Suffer.”

Okita immediately ripped his arm back and stalked off to find a table he could eat at in peace. He’d hoped that was enough to get his point across that he wanted to be left alone. Sitting heavily down on one of the cushions, he immediately turned on the charm as the woman serving the meals approached.

Ryoma looked furious as he joined Okita at the table. He sat down hard on the opposite side of the table, a scowl on his face as he glared daggers at Okita.

“Sourpuss over here’ll have the same thing,” Okita replied with a dazzling smile as he touched the woman’s arm gently. He didn’t even know why he was doing it. He knew deep down he had no right to be hurt, but he wasn’t thinking rationally.

Ryoma barely waited for her to leave before starting in. “What was that?” he growled.

“Haw?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, I don’t and maybe ya should learn how t’ announce yerself before openin’ someone’s door,” Okita growled in response.

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t wanna hear it.”

Ryoma threw his hands up, exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

“And yer a dick.”

“You don’t have the right to be mad at our situation.”

“The fuck I don’t. You know what…” Okita looked away, shaking his head as he tried to collect his thoughts. The look on Ryoma’s face told Okita the dancing samurai most likely regretted the words that had escaped, but it was too late and he wasn’t wrong. Okita slapped his palms on the table as he stood up. “Enjoy yer dinner, I’m gonna go t’ bed.”

“Okita, wait—”

Okita didn’t look back as he marched himself back to his room, suddenly not hungry even if he would regret it later.

Ryoma was right. He didn’t have the right to be angry, but anger was easier to deal with than the gut-wrenching pain he was left with otherwise. Okita had been all over the place since Inoue’s death and Ryoma had been caught in that crossfire. This had been what he’d wanted, or… well, what he thought he’d needed to do.

So why did it hurt so fucking much?

Okita collapsed as soon as he was back in his room, resting his back against the dresser. This trip was harder than he ever thought it would be. The highs of fighting at Ryoma’s side just reminded him of how badly he wanted him.

Not for the first time he wished Inoue were still alive. Maybe he’d have had the chance to show him that Ryoma wasn’t the person Gen-san thought he was. Then again, why had he saved Ryoma’s life if he hadn’t thought that himself? Okita thumped his head back against the dresser hard, but the hurt did nothing to ease the ache in his chest and he sighed.

His fingers slipped into his haori, pulling free the letter he’d been carrying around. He’d been too much of a coward to read it. If Inoue had told him to stay away from Ryoma, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to listen, but now? Well… he’d managed to drive a wedge between them all on his own and now he supposed it didn’t matter anymore. It was finally time to rip that bandage off.

Okita carefully unfolded the letter with shaking hands. Nagakura had been right, of course. Gen-san had written it simply so Okita could read it, and his breath caught in his throat the second he started to read.

Soji,

Forgive me for all that I’ve put you through. You and Nagakura were but boys when you found me, and I didn’t lead you down the best path. Still, you became sons to me. I need you to know, I am so proud of you both. You’ve turned into fine young warriors. I could not have asked for better pupils, or better sons. You’ve grown even stronger than I.

I’ll keep this brief as I can. If you are reading this, then you know my life has come to an end. I was wrong about Saito Hajime. He is a good man, a trustworthy one. I’m sure you have figured it out by now that Saito is really the adopted son of a man whose life I took. I feared he’d harm you for what I had done and I let that fear cloud my judgement. I should have trusted you more to know what you were doing. My deepest regret is trying to come between you.

Since his arrival I have seen another side of you. One I never thought I would see. You shut yourself away from the world the day you took his name, pushed everyone away that wasn’t Nagakura or I, but Saito pulled you out of that. I have never seen you look so happy, so hopeful. He’s made you stronger, Soji, do not let that go.

Go find your happiness, Soji. Do not let me hold you back.

-Inoue Genzaburo

Okita let out a shaky breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his eyes blurry with unshed tears threatening to spill over as he thumb traced over the stamped signature. He’d gotten it so wrong. How had he gotten it so wrong?

No, he had to fix this.

Swallowing back the tears, he scrambled to his feet, tucking the letter back into his sleeve. He was out the door barely a second later, heading straight for Ryoma’s room before his mind even had a chance to catch up.

He needed to fix things, he just hoped it wasn’t too late.

Chapter Text

Night had fallen by the time Ryoma had made it back to his room for the night. The shoji panels were open wide to let in the cool night breeze and the moon outside was bright, casting its light over the short-legged table where Ryoma sat, staring at the clouds that were slowly rolling in.

It had been a long day and Ryoma didn’t have the energy left to socialize after Okita had stormed off. He’d taken his food, and Okita’s, refusing to let it go to waste, back to his room to be alone. For how starving Ryoma had been, his appetite had seemed to have fled with Okita. Now he sat, staring outside as he picked at his food, slowly taking bites, but hardly tasting it.

The moon’s light was dimmed by rain clouds and soon the soft patter of rain drops interrupted the silence around him. It was minorly concerning for the journey the next day, but in that moment the sound was calming. The scent of rain was soothing, and he chose to focus on that instead.

Ryoma set his chopsticks down with a heavy sigh and leaned back onto his arms to stare out the window.

Part of him just wanted to leave now, slip out unnoticed. Okita had Nagakura waiting for him. Why he wanted to come on this suicide mission with a man he clearly blamed for the loss of his adoptive father, was beyond Ryoma’s comprehension. Okita clearly hated him now, and Ryoma couldn’t blame him. It was, after all, his need for answers that had put a target on Inoue’s back. He didn’t want Okita’s death on his hands too. He’d fucked up Okita’s life enough. It would be the right thing to just leave a note and disappear into the night.

Ryoma snorted, feeling too sober for those kinds of thoughts.

It was a foolish though, and a cowardly one. Even if he went through with it, he wouldn’t get far before Okita tracked him down and be even more furious with him than he already was. Besides, Ryoma knew he wasn’t capable of writing all the things he felt down on paper.

No…

He was just going to have to talk to Okita, make Okita listen. If the other captain still hated him after… so be it. At least he would know how Ryoma felt. He needed Okita to hear it. Maybe that was selfish of him, but Ryoma had no desire to go to his death full of regret.

The thought had Ryoma’s heart racing, hammering away in his chest as he pushed himself up off the floor and made his way to the door. A moment of hesitation seized him then as he reached for it, his hand hanging in the air. What was he even going to say? That he… Did he love him? The nerves that stirred awake inside of him were almost enough to make him turn back, but he swallowed them down. No regrets, he told himself sternly and with a deep breath, he slid the shoji panel open.

Ryoma froze with a gasp, as before him stood the man plaguing his thoughts. Okita Soji was staring back at him, eye wide with surprise and hand raised like he had been about to open the door from the other side.

“Haji—”

“So—”

They both had tried to speak at once, staring each other down as if they both struggled to find the words they wanted to say. Ryoma watched as emotions crossed Okita’s face from shock to worry before settling on frustration, a scowl pulling at the lip he’d just been chewing on.

“Fuck it,” Okita growled under his breath as if he’d come to some sort of conclusion in his mind, and the next moment he was surging forward. For half a second, Ryoma thought he was about to get hit, but then Okita’s hands gripped onto Ryoma’s yukata, tugging him closer. Ryoma barely had the forethought to slide the shoji door shut before Okita’s lips were on his.

It was as electrifying as the lightning that lit up the room in a flash, but Ryoma never heard the answering clap of thunder as Okita’s soft lips drove all thoughts from his mind. The kiss was fierce, filled with desperation like Okita was trying to convey words that wouldn’t come. Ryoma was nearly overwhelmed, and he stood frozen in shock for a moment too long. Okita was already pulling away, an apology on his tongue before Ryoma was pressing forward, chasing after his lips with his own desperate determination. His hands flew up, gripping back at Okita’s kimono, tugging him in. Their teeth clacked together, but neither of them seemed to care as Okita licked into his mouth, backing Ryoma up further into the room. Their tongues met, sliding together, and they both moaned in unison.

The magnetism that had always been there between them was all consuming. It wasn’t until his back bumped into the dresser that Ryoma came back to his senses. The cold fear of abandonment crept in and it was sobering. He broke the kiss, turning his head as Okita tried to chase after his lips.

“W-wait,” Ryoma breathed out, trying to calm himself down. He pressed a palm to Okita’s chest. Even through the kimono, he felt Okita’s heart hammering away in his chest. Okita tried to pull back like he’d been burned by Ryoma’s touch, eye wide and hurt clear in his expression, but Ryoma didn’t let him get away. His fingers tightened in Okita’s kimono, refusing to let him go anywhere.

“Are you…” Ryoma started, his voice little more than a whisper as he looked back at Okita. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing down his nerves before meeting Okita’s intense gaze. “Are you just going to run away from me again?”

Okita’s eye widened, a flash of guilt crossing his features, and Ryoma watched his throat bob as he swallowed. It was the first time he’d truly seen Okita nervous, but a look of determination flashed across his face a moment later and he stepped closer once again. Hands fisted into the blue fabric of Ryoma’s yukata, knuckles white from the force of that grip. He leaned in close, close enough that Ryoma thought Okita was going to kiss him again and he found himself being pulled in, that magnetism between them as strong as ever.

“Never again,” Okita whispered.

Ryoma kissed him hard.

They would need to talk, but Ryoma’s nerves had been worn thin with the emotional highs and lows of Okita’s moods. Right now, he didn’t care. The kiss was a balm. All Ryoma could concentrate on were the soft lips against his and the fingers working open his yukata. His hands slipped up to cup Okita’s face, refusing to let him go even for a moment. It was almost embarrassing how much he’d craved Okita’s company. It had been exhausting trying to ignore the irresistible pull between them. Nothing felt more right than having Okita with him now. And if Okita did flee by morning…?

Well, Ryoma would have this night to carry him into battle.

Okita yanked Ryoma’s yukata open as his tongue delved passed the dancing samurai’s lips, and Ryoma had to muffle a moan as strong hands slid up his torso. Fingers teased and traced the grooves cut out by muscle before squeezing Ryoma’s pecs, and Ryoma shuddered as the touch sent heat pooling in his gut. The thumbs that brushed over his nipples was electrifying, and he could feel his cock stirring.

Ryoma slid his hands down Okita’s clothed torso, desperate fingers tugging and pulling at the ties holding the other man’s hakama in place. A growl of frustration had Okita chuckling against his lips as Ryoma pulled blindly until he finally worked the ties free and the fabric dropped to the floor. Okita was quick to step out of the fabric pooled around his ankles, kicking his hakama to the side as Ryoma freed him of his obi too, yanking his kimono open wide.

Their bodies pressed flush together then, desire burning them both up as Okita pinned him up against the dresser. The ornate handles bit into his back, but Ryoma didn’t care, all that mattered was the strong body pressed against his own.

Okita broke the kiss in favour of trailing his lips down Ryoma’s jaw to his neck. Tongue and teeth paused to worry a mark into sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from Ryoma’s lips. Tipping his head to the side, he exposed more of his neck to Okita as he brought a hand up to pull the tie from Okita’s hair. Dark locks spilled free and Ryoma’s fingers slipped into the strands as he cupped the back of his head, holding him close.

“Soji,” he moaned out as their hips rocked together. He could feel the hard length of Okita’s cock pressing back against his own through the thick fabric of their fundoshi, and Ryoma wanted them gone. He needed to tear down the last barriers between them. Feel Okita pressed up against him, and Okita must have been feeling the same thing because a moment later he took a step back. Ryoma didn’t have long to mourn the loss as he watched Okita shrug out of his remaining layers. His kimono barely hit the floor before he was backing up towards the futon Ryoma had rolled out earlier. He paused long enough to tug off his fundoshi until he stood, naked, and beckoning for Ryoma to follow.

Ryoma swallowed, his eyes racking over Okita’s nude form as an electric jolt of arousal shot straight to his cock. He stumbled forward, letting his own yukata slip from his shoulders. By the time he reached Okita, he’d shed the last of his clothing and pulled the other back into his arms where he belonged, pressing a hungry but brief kiss to lips.

“Lie down,” Ryoma said. “Let me grab the oil.”

Okita shivered against him and stole another kiss before he let Ryoma go.

The dancing samurai rushed over to his things and dug around for his clove oil. It couldn’t have gotten far as he’d used it to polish his swords earlier, but drunk off arousal and rushed as he was, his fingers were far too clumsy for his liking, knocking things over as he went until he finally found the small vial.

“Ryoma,” Okita moaned behind him, and when he turned around the sight alone very nearly made him drop the oil. Okita was sprawled out on the futon, eye patch gone and head tipped back in pleasure as he moaned Ryoma’s real given name. His hand was between his legs, impatiently tugging on his cock, and Ryoma was transfixed. His knees weak as Okita’s head turned to look at him through thick lashes.

“I need ya inside me,” he groaned out, and Ryoma was crossing the room in a hurry.

Dropping to kneel between Okita’s spread thighs. He wasted no time in slicking his fingers up, setting the vial aside before teasing a digit around Okita’s hole.

“Hurry up,” Okita very nearly whined, hips pressing down until Ryoma got the hint and began to work him open, watching as Okita's body practically sucked his finger in. Okita tipped his head back again, letting out a breathy sigh. "More, fuck. Don't make me beg..."

The thought made Ryoma shudder, but he pushed it away for another time. His own patience was wearing thin. Leaning down, he kissed his way up Okita's neck as he slipped his finger free only to press two back in. Okita's breath hitched, his hips rocking as Ryoma quickened his pace. It was quick and crude, but it didn't take much to help Okita relax with how worked up he was. The longer Ryoma took, the more Okita turned to desperate pleas for more, gripping the blankets beneath him as he fucked himself onto Ryoma’s fingers. The sight was intoxicating, and Ryoma ached to be inside him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Okita suddenly pleaded breathlessly, hips still grinding down on Ryoma’s fingers despite his words.

Ryoma immediately froze, concern flashing across his face. “What’s wron—”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong. Ahhh, fuck, I just wanna be on top,” Okita replied, hastily interrupting him. “Lay down.”

A shiver shot down Ryoma’s spine, his cock throbbing between his legs. He let his fingers slip from Okita’s body before they shuffled around. Soon Ryoma found himself on his back hands on Okita’s hips as the other man straddled him.

Ryoma was quick to slick himself up with more oil, before Okita was reaching behind himself and pushing Ryoma’s hand away. He replaced it with his own, steadying Ryoma’s dick as he lifted himself up and slowly began to impale himself on it. Okita slowly sank down onto Ryoma with a low groan, and all of Ryoma’s thoughts scattered as he was swallowed up by searing heat. His breath hitched, nails digging into Okita’s hips as he tried to calm himself, keep himself from thrusting up. Burying himself in that tight, velvety heat.

“Fuck,” Ryoma groaned out, his eyes falling shut, lips parted on a breathless moan.

By the time Okita settled in his lap, Ryoma sheathed fully inside him, they were both panting. Resting his hands on Ryoma’s chest to steady himself, he glanced down at the dancing samurai. Hair spilled over his shoulder, and Ryoma was awestruck. Removing a hand from Okita’s hip, he reached up, tucking his hair back behind an ear before letting his fingers brush over Okita’s cheek. The other man immediately leaned into the touch as he slowly began to rock his hips.

The breath escaped Ryoma’s lungs on a low moan. He rocked back against him, barely holding himself back now. He’d missed this, missed Okita. Missed feeling so close to him. “Move, please,” he pleaded, very nearly whining.

Okita had the audacity to smirk, but Ryoma could tell he wasn’t doing much better himself. He felt the man trembling above him as he sat up straighter, lifting himself nearly all the way off Ryoma before he dropped back down making them both moan loudly. The pace he set was slow at first, but each roll of his hips had him picking up speed. Soon he sat back, gripping onto Ryoma’s thighs as he fucked himself down onto Ryoma’s cock. The new angle let Ryoma see everything. He slid his hands up Okita’s thighs, watching himself disappear into Okita’s body again and again. The sight was intoxicating. It had him burning up with pleasure and he couldn’t resist thrusting up into Okita, meeting his pace as Okita pleaded for more.

It took everything to tear his eyes away, letting them roam up Okita’s body, and the sight before him stole Ryoma's breath away. Okita was beautiful, head thrown back, hair tumbling free. His kiss abused lips even darker than usual and swollen. He was flushed with exertion, the pink even reaching his chest. His back was arched, hands gripping tightly onto Ryoma's thighs as he moved. His muscles writhing every roll of his hips.

Beautiful.

Ryoma was overcome with affection, propelling himself forward. His arms slipped around Okita, throwing him off pace but Ryoma didn't care. He needed the man in his arms.

Okita was startled at first, but he caught on quick with a breathy laugh, so carefree it made Ryoma's heart clench. He quickly gripped onto the dancing samurai's shoulders for leverage and began to move once again. "Makin' it difficult t’ move," Okita said as Ryoma buried his face in his neck.

Licking a stripe up Okita’s throat, he pressed a kiss just behind the ear. "I needed to hold you," Ryoma whispered and he felt the man shudder in his arms.

"Ryoma-chan," Okita sighed out. "Kiss me before I say somethin' stupid."

And Ryoma did.

Their mouths slotted together in a hot desperate kiss. The moans and whimpers coming from Okita mixing with his own, muffled against their lips, but each one had Ryoma spiralling closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to last. The desperation was reaching a fever pitch. The tension coiling tight in Ryoma’s belly. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither was Okita if the way he picked up the pace was anything to go by.

Ryoma could feel Okita’s trapped cock grinding against his stomach, wet and leaking against his skin. He broke the kiss, resting their foreheads together as he slipped a hand between them to take Okita in his hand. The other man immediately let out a shaky breath, his cock jumping in Ryoma’s grip.

“Close,” Okita whispered. “So fuckin’ close.”

“Cum for me,” Ryoma whispered back. “Don’t hold back.”

“Haj—ngh fuck,” Okita moaned out, his eye fell shut, lips parted on a breathless moan. “Ryoma!” he cried out as he came. Ryoma felt him tremble, his body clenching down around him as he spilled over Ryoma’s hand.

A gasp tore from Ryoma’s lips as Okita clenched around him, barely able to keep moving as his orgasm ripped through him. It was almost enough to set Ryoma off too, and he gripped Okita’s hips tight as the other continued to grind down on him, helping Ryoma chase after the building pleasure inside him, all the while pleading for him to fill him up.

“Come on,” Okita said, practically slurring his words. “Cum iside me. Give it t' me, Ryoma-chan!”

And Ryoma couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried.

The tension inside him snapped and white-hot pleasure seared through his veins, his body shuddering with ecstasy and all he could do was helplessly moan Okita’s name as he spilled inside of him.

They clung tightly too each other, bodies rocking together as they rode out the waves of pleasure. Ryoma buried his face in Okita’s neck, holding his trembling form against himself in a daze. The warm high of release settling over him and he couldn’t help but hold on tight. It didn’t matter because Okita seemed to be in the same spot, face buried in his hair, shaking just as badly. They slowed to a stop once they were both spent and it was a long while before either of them moved again, trying to catch their breathes.

Okita was the first to move. He lifted himself up carefully, letting Ryoma’s softening cock slip out of him before he settled on his lap once again, combing his fingers through Ryoma’s hair. Eventually they pulled apart, cleaning each other up before settling down onto the futon, Ryoma on his back with Okita’s head resting on his chest. Ryoma’s fingers combed slowly through Okita’s hair and Okita seemed to melt right into his chest with a content hum. Neither of them was in any hurry to move or interrupt the comfortable silence. There was a wave of thoughts Ryoma wanted to say, but none of that mattered in that moment as Okita rubbed his leg against Ryoma’s, pressing a kiss to his chest.

Then Okita’s stomach growled, loudly interrupting the quiet of the room, and the suddenness of it had Ryoma snorting before bursting out into a fit of laughter. His body shook with it as he clung to Okita, holding him close.

Okita snorted, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I… probably should’ve eaten…” he replied, chuckling.

“Good thing I couldn’t let it go to waste then,” Ryoma replied once he caught his breath. The grin was still stuck to his face as he released Okita long enough to point towards the short-legged table where their food still sat.

“Hajime-chan!” Okita sing-songed, finally pushing himself up. “You didn’t!”

“I think Nagakura might kill me if I let you waste away,” Ryoma said.

Okita glanced down at him, an amused look in his eye. “I dunno, ya stuffed me real good moments ago.”

Ryoma rolled his eyes with a grin. He shoved Okita’s face away, knocking him over as he sat up, and chuckled as Okita’s shrill laughter filled the room. The dancing samurai was still grinning as he pushed himself to his feet, not bothering with his clothes as he plopped himself down on the cushion at the table. He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, are you coming?”

Okita scrambled to his feet, tugging on Ryoma’s yukata, but he didn’t bother close it before plopping down beside Ryoma. He wasted no time in digging in. However, Ryoma couldn’t help but glance over. Okita looked ridiculous in his yukata, it was bigger than he was and slipping off his shoulder, but the sight filled Ryoma with such affection he knew he must have looked like a love-struck idiot.

Okita caught him staring a moment later and did a double take before freezing with his chopsticks halfway to his lips. “Haw? Somethin’ on my face?”

Ryoma just smiled, turning away, but not before he saw that same affection mirrored on Okita’s face. He slipped an arm around the other captain, needing to hold him close, as he dug into his own meal. It might have been cold, but Ryoma didn’t have any complaints.

And that night, as they laid awake together, they finally started talking.

Chapter Text

The rain was still coming down the next morning when Ryoma began to stir. The soft patter filled the quiet of the room, a comforting sound that had Ryoma ready to fall back to sleep. Warm and comfortable beneath a blanket, the temptation was strong. Stifling a yawn he carefully rolled over in search of Okita, reaching out only to find the futon beside him empty and cold.

Ryoma’s eyes snapped open.

The futon beside him was empty. Bolting up into a sitting position, Ryoma frantically looked around the room, groggy and confused. Okita was nowhere to be found. The room was as empty as the bed, and Ryoma’s heart sank. His thoughts immediately going to the extreme.

Had Okita left him again? Had last night just been a goodbye?

The irony of the situation was that Ryoma had no room to talk. He had been considering doing the exact same thing to Okita, but that was before they had talked. Finally, truly talked. He knew about the letter, about Okita’s loyalty to Inoue. He knew why Okita had been pushing him away, and he’d forgiven him. He couldn’t blame Okita for that. He’d thought that had meant they were okay, but now…?

No. He wasn’t going to let Okita get away. The man couldn’t have gotten far. He’d just have to chase him down. He wasn’t going to let him walk away again, and he certainly wasn’t going to let him march off to his death.

Ryoma’s heart was beating fast when the shoji panel opened up and in walked Okita still wearing Ryoma’s yukata and arms full of bags. He was looking pleased with himself as he slid the door shut with his foot until he saw Ryoma and his face fell instantly. He quickly dropped his stuff and rushed to Ryoma’s side, kneeling next to him.

“Hajime-chan?”

Ryoma never felt so relieved in his life. He grabbed Okita and tugged him back down onto the futon. Okita laughed loudly as he was dragged back under the blankets and practically smothered by Ryoma who laid on him with a huff.

“Good mornin’ t’ ya too.”

“I thought you left!”

“Haw?” Okita frowned, suddenly looking serious as his lone eye appeared to search Ryoma’s face. He wrapped his arms around the dancing samurai, holding him tight. “I meant what I said last night…”

‘Never again.’

A wave of guilt instantly shot through Ryoma. How could he think Okita had left after that? He groaned in embarrassment, burying his face in Okita’s neck. “The bed was empty and I just… I’m an idiot.”

Okita ran his fingers through Ryoma’s hair, chuckling softly. “But yer my idiot.”

With a snort, Ryoma bit Okita’s neck in retaliation. A smirk pulled at his lips as Okita burst out laughing again.

“Beast!” Okita gasped out.

“Yeah, but I’m your beast,” Ryoma teased, grinning before they both laughed in unison. He finally relaxed against Okita with a happy hum, resting his head on Okita’s chest. He was Okita’s, there was no doubt about that. Even if they hadn’t explicitly stated what was happening between them, he knew they both felt it now.

“Sorry, I should’ve said somethin’ just didn’t wanna wake ya,” Okita spoke after a while, interrupting the comfortable silence. “Couldn’t sleep so I went t’ check on things, and good thing I did. The roads closed, it flooded.”

Ryoma groaned in annoyance this time. That had been what he feared would happen since the rain started the prior evening. It had happened more than once on his last trip to Edo. “We’ll have to stay another night.”

Fingers slipped through the loose strands of Ryoma’s hair once again. If Ryoma wasn’t careful, the soothing touch would only lure him back to sleep, and that was awful tempting now that they didn’t have anywhere else to be. He stretched himself out against Okita, before tightening his arms around him.

“Mhm, already booked the room. One room…” Okita mumbled as if second guessing himself. “This one unless ya don’t wan—”

“If you think I am letting you out of my sight…”

Okita chuckled softly, sounding relieved. “I also brought breakfast but ya made me drop it.”

Ryoma finally perked up at that, lifting his head from the first captain’s chest to look down at him. “Breakfast?” He started to pull away and sit up, but Okita wasn’t having it, pulling him back down.

“No, I went out in the rain fer it. Now ya have to warm me up!”

Ryoma laughed, laying directly on Okita like a dead weight and knocking the breath from his lungs with a soft ‘oof’. “Okay, but if I starve to death you’ll be sorry.”

“You’ll live!”

Ryoma grinned, burying his face in Okita’s neck as they fell into a comfortable silence, warm, and comfortable, and at peace for the first time in a long while. Sure, their path ahead was a treacherous one, but that was all the more reason to be in the moment now. To worry about that when the rain let up.

“You smell good,” Ryoma said, interrupting the silence.

Okita snorted. “I had a bath.”

“Did you now? Without me?” Ryoma huffed against his neck and Okita shivered. A smirk pulled at Ryoma’s lips as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin.

“And ruin yer beauty sleep?” Okita replied, breath catching on the last word as Ryoma licked up his neck. “I was bored waitin’!”

“Oh, you poor man. Then I better make it up to you, hmm?” Ryoma bit down. If they were living on borrowed time, then screw it, Ryoma was going to make the best of that time while they were stuck.

Okita gasped. “What’s this, we doin’ it?”

“Unless you’d rather have breakfast.” Ryoma started to pull away again, but Okita’s grip tightened on his bicep, refusing to let him move even an inch.

“Fuck no.”

Ryoma grinned, lifting his head in time for their lips to crash together. Which one of them had moved first, Ryoma didn’t have a clue as Okita’s fingers slipped into his hair, cupping the back of his head and pulling him in closer. He nipped at Okita’s lower lip, tugging lightly.

“You’re overly dressed,” Ryoma growled before kissing him again. He couldn’t get enough.

Okita smirked against his lips, sucking on Ryoma’s lower lip. He teased the plump flesh with tongue and teeth before releasing it again. “Undress me then.”

“So helpless,” Ryoma teased, making Okita tip his head back laughing.

Taking advantage of the position, Ryoma leaned down to kiss his way up Okita’s exposed neck. The flutter of a racing pulse sped up beneath his lips and Ryoma bit down. Okita’s laugh turned into a breathy curse. The fingers in his hair scratched lightly at Ryoma’s sensitive scalp, encouraging him, and he shuddered at the feeling. He sucked at the skin he had bitten, determined to leave a mark as Okita shivered in his arms. Fingers trailed down Okita’s body, finding the obi that held the blue fabric closed, and Ryoma tugged blindly at it until he finally managed to pull it free. Tossing it over his shoulder as he soothed the mark on Okita’s neck with his tongue, tracing the indents left behind by his teeth.

Okita groaned out, sliding a free hand down Ryoma’s bicep to hold on tight. He let out a shuddering breath as Ryoma licked up his neck.

The dancing samurai finally pulled the yukata open and immediately let his hand roam over Okita’s body. His palm caressed the soft, warm skin of Okita’s belly, feeling the abs dance and quake beneath his fingertips. Tracing the grooves cut out by the solid muscle, his hand slid up Okita’s torso to cup one of his pecs, squeezing it. “You’re so strong,” he whispered into Okita’s ear, feeling the man quake at his words.

Okita was already trembling. He moaned Ryoma’s given name, head tipping back as he arched into the touch. “Oh fuck, Hajime-chan…” A hand shot up, gripping Ryoma’s wrist before desperately trying to drag it down to where he wanted it most. Down to where his cock was already stirring.

“Impatient,” he teased with another nip to Okita’s neck, but pride swelled in him for how fast he’d gotten Okita worked up. Brushing the tips of his fingers along Okita’s shaft, he felt it twitch before he pulled away with a grin. Finally lifting his head again to look down at the first captain. “I have a better idea.”

“Oh?” Okita leaned up, clearly expecting a kiss, but Ryoma remained just out of reach, lidded eyes landing on Okita’s lips as he cupped the first captain’s face, tracing his thumb over the swollen flesh.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Ryoma replied, his breath hitching as Okita’s tongue teased out over the pad of his thumb, lips parting to let the digit slip inside the wet heat of his mouth. The sight sent a wave of arousal straight to Ryoma’s core and he groaned as Okita sucked on his finger. He pressed back against Okita’s tongue before reluctantly pulling away and climbing to his feet.

“Where ya goin’?” Okita huffed, pushing up onto his elbows to watch as Ryoma walked off. “Not that I don’t mind the view.”

Ryoma smirked over his shoulder, catching Okita staring at his bare ass, head tilted. “To fetch the oil.” He quickly retrieved a cloth from the dresser and the vial of oil that they had discarded last night before returning to Okita. “We’re going to need more of this…”

Okita snickered as he finally rolled over, pushing himself up onto his knees to remove the yukata before leaning back down on his hands. “Already got some,” he replied, smirking over his shoulder.

“Just how long have you been up?” Ryoma asked with a laugh, dropping down to kneel behind Okita. He dopped the items beside them in favour of running his hands up the back of Okita’s thighs, up to squeeze his ass. It drew a groan from the first captain’s lips who pressed back against the touch.

“Long enough to get clean,” Okita replied with what Ryoma could only assume was a wink. He tore off his makeshift eyepatch, tossing the tsuba aside before grabbing one of the cushions and pulling it under himself. He leaned down onto his chest, keeping his ass in the air and pressing his bad eye into the pillow.

“Well in that case…” Ryoma leaned over him, pressing a kiss at the base of Okita’s spine and squeezing his ass again before he spread him apart. “Let me take care of you.”

“Wha—Are ya gonna—Oh fuck yes,” Okita groaned out, shivering. He let out a delirious sort of chuckle before his breath hitched. A shiver raced up his spine as Ryoma’s warm breath ghosted over Okita’s lower back, goosebumps raised in its wake. Fingers gripped at the futon beneath him, and Okita pressed his cheek further into the soft bedding beneath him. Ryoma had barely even touched him yet and he was already wound up so tight from what the dancing samurai could only assumed was anticipation.

“Hajime-chan…”

Ryoma pressed another kiss at the base of Okita’s spine as his palms slid down and back up quivering thighs to Okita’s ass. He squeezed the plump flesh, spreading Okita apart again and exposing the first captain to his searing breath.

A thumb teased at Okita’s rim, pressing lightly at the tight ring, and Okita bit his own lip in a poor attempt to hide the whimper that escaped. He pressed back into the touch with a breathy sigh.

“Relax,” Ryoma whispered. This time his breath caressed Okita’s most sensitive flesh as he leaned in close. He felt Okita shudder before teasing his tongue up the cleft of his ass and Okita cried out loudly, his hand shooting back to grip Ryoma’s hair. It pleased Ryoma how much of an effect he had on the first captain, and that knowledge sent a wave of heat straight down to his own cock.

Ryoma teased his tongue around Okita’s hole, but never quite pressing in as he lavished him with attention. The kiss he pressed there had Okita’s toes curling, his breath catching in his throat before he let out a pitiful whine that sent another jolt of pure want straight to Ryoma’s core. The power he held over Okita in that moment was intoxicating.

“Hajime—”

“Say my name.”

“Ha—”

“No.”

“Ryoma, please!”

Ryoma couldn’t deny him anymore if he tried, tongue teasing past the tight ring of muscle, licking into Okita’s tight heat. He’d barely even touched him yet and Okita was already so desperate, already pressing back onto his tongue, so he didn’t hold back.

Ryoma ate him out like a man starved.

It was wet and sloppy, and Okita couldn’t stop moaning his name like a prayer to the gods as Ryoma licked into him. His toes curled, hands fisting at the futon, gripping it so tightly Ryoma swore he heard the fabric rip, but neither of them cared. Ryoma was drunk off of the high of reducing Okita to a writhing, moaning mess with nothing but his tongue. And Okita was driven to insanity by Ryoma’s filthy mouth and all he could do was plead for more as he rocked himself back onto that probing tongue.

Ryoma pulled back, teasing a finger around Okita’s slick hole, watching it twitch under his touch before his eyes moved down further to where Okita’s cock hung, hard and heavy and drooling onto the bedding below him. The sight alone had Ryoma’s own cock throbbing with need, but he ignored himself for now.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Ryoma groaned. “Look at you.”

Okita could only whimper as Ryoma teased a finger inside of him. His cock jolted at his words, more pre-cum leaking out of him. “Ryoma,” he moaned out pitifully, and the dancing samurai shuddered at the wrecked sound of his voice.

“Tell me what you want,” Ryoma asked, pressing a kiss to Okita’s ass. He slipped his finger free before pressing two back in, watching as they were swallowed up with ease, practically sucked back in.

“Your cock, fuck I need your cock,” Okita gasped out, rocking back onto the digits currently curling inside him. Ryoma focused on finding that spot inside Okita that would have him crying his name, and he knew the second he found it with the shout Okita let out, back arching, grinding his hips back onto Ryoma’s fingers as he moaned loudly. “Please, please, please.”

Ryoma shuddered, his own neglected cock throbbing, and he almost gave in right then. It took everything in him to focus on Okita, rubbing his fingers against that spot until Okita was a panting, writhing mess before him.

“R-Ryoma,” Okita moaned out, rocking himself back onto the offending digits. He was barely making sense as he pleaded for more, drooling onto the pillow. “Oh fuck, if you—I… nghhh please!”

“Please what?” Ryoma demanded, not letting up.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” Okita gasped out. “I—if you don’t… I’m gonna… gonna cum.”

Ryoma finally took pity on him, slipping his fingers free. The answering whimper went straight to his cock. He felt himself twitch. Hurrying, he grabbed the small vial and spilled the remaining oil into his palm clumsily. Carelessly tossing the now empty vial aside before taking himself in hand. He was quick to slicked himself up, moaning as he finally touched himself.

Okita was panting heavily, already looking wrecked. His cock hung thick and heavy between his legs, steadily drooling onto the fabric below. His eye slipped open, iris practically swallowed up by black of his pupil as he looked over his shoulder at Ryoma. “Hurry.”

A shiver raced down Ryoma’s spine. He grabbed the cloth, wiping his hand off before tossing it aside. He’d meant to use it to protect the sheets, but it was too late now. He took himself back in hand, spreading Okita’s ass apart with the other as he leaned in, guiding his cock to Okita’s hole. They both groaned in unison as he began to press in. The initial resistance gave away quickly, and Okita’s body practically sucked him into the velvety heat. He cursed under his breath, thrusting in shallowly until he was buried to the hilt. He paused then, giving them both a moment to adjust.

It wasn’t long before they were both rocking against each other, desperate for some kind of friction.

“Move,” Okita pleaded, and Ryoma didn’t need to be told twice.

Gripping Okita’s hips, Ryoma started to pull out, slipping nearly free of the tight heat before he thrust back in with a snap of his hips causing them both to groan in unison. He started out slow, watching himself disappear into the tight heat again and again until he was picking up the pace, chasing after the growing pleasure.

It didn’t take long to reduce Okita back to an incoherent, writhing mess, pleas and moans for more mixing with sighs of Ryoma’s name. It was music to Ryoma’s ears. The first captain pushed himself back up onto his hands, fingers fisting in the blankets as he thrust himself back onto Ryoma’s cock.

Ryoma plastered himself to Okita’s back, throwing an arm over his shoulder to hold him close. He nuzzled into Okita’s neck, his hot breath causing gooseflesh to erupt over Okita’s skin. “Soji,” he moaned as he fucked into him.

Okita’s head fell forward, a hand flew up to hold onto Ryoma’s arm as he thrust back onto Ryoma’s dick, babbling incoherently. “Yes, yes, fuck, Haji—ngh, Ryoma-chan, more!”

Licking up Okita’s neck, he nipped at the spot just behind Okita’s ear, groaning as he picked up the pace. He was burning up with pleasure as Okita’s hole practically squeezed his cock. “S-so tight,” Ryoma groaned. “Take my cock so well…”

“Yes, oh fuck,” Okita moaned.

“Touch yourself for me,” Ryoma whispered in his ear, feeling Okita shudder beneath him.

The hand on his arm slipped free as Okita reached down to tug on his own cock, moaning Ryoma’s name once again. “S-S’close,” Okita slurred. “Ryoma, I—fuck!”

Reducing Okita down to a moaning mess was only heightening the pleasure flowing through Ryoma’s veins. It went straight to his dick and he felt himself throb inside Okita’s walls. “Me too,” he groaned out, burying his face back into Okita’s neck.

“Fill me,” Okita pleaded. “Please, cum inside me. Ngh give it to me.”

 A delirious chuckle slipped from Ryoma’s lips before he cried out as he felt Okita clench around him, desperately trying to milk him for all he was worth, and Ryoma couldn’t deny him any longer if he tried. His movements had grown sloppy as he sped up, chasing after that ever-growing pleasure. He was so close, so fucking close he felt himself right on the edge.

And then—

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m cumming,” Okita gasped out, and Ryoma felt him clench around him once again. His entire body was shuddering as he cried out Ryoma’s true name, nearly tipping forward if it wasn’t for Ryoma holding them up.

Okita’s release was near enough to trigger Ryoma’s. He thrust into him once…

Twice…

“Ah, Soji!” he cried out, hips snapping to a stop as he buried himself deep in Okita’s velvety heat. His cock pulsed, emptying his balls inside Okita as he moaned, mind whiting out as pleasure seared through his veins. He clung onto Okita as they rode out their releases together, grinding against each other until they were both spent. Ryoma barely had the strength left to hold them both up. He slipped out of Okita before they collapsed into a sweaty heap, clinging to each other.

“Fuck…” Okita breathed out, still trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” Ryoma agreed, before a comfortable silence fell between them and they slowly came down from the high of release.

Okita was the first to speak again once he had caught his breath, a smirk pulled at his lips. “So much for my bath.”

“I guess we’ll just have to go together this time,” Ryoma replied, as he returned the grin.

Okita laughed. “When my legs work again.”

“And after breakfast,” Ryoma agreed.

Chapter Text

The rest of the morning was spent lazing around, warm and content. Ryoma had nearly dozed off, relaxing against Okita as the first captain ran his fingers through Ryoma’s hair in a no less relaxed state himself. Okita stretched himself out with a content hum before settling with his head on Ryoma’s chest.

They didn’t talk. Didn’t need to. The silence was comfortable.

It was then that Ryoma’s hunger made itself known. This time it was his stomach that betrayed him with a loud growl, and he groaned in annoyance. Okita snickered, but he pushed himself up into a sitting position, still leaning over Ryoma.

“Don’t worry, Hajime-chan,” Okita said, patting Ryoma’s chest. “I got ya.” He grinned as he climbed to his feet and headed over to the belongings he had dropped earlier. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for and returned to Ryoma with an armful of food. He plopped down beside Ryoma and dumped small hoard before them as Ryoma sat up.

Sweets.

Ryoma was certainly not complaining. Quite the opposite in fact. He had a terrible sweet tooth, something he was quick to vocalize. “I love sweet things.”

“I know.” Okita grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

The dancing samurai paused, looking over at Okita. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It touched him to know that Okita had clearly been paying attention enough to notice because he couldn’t recall ever having mentioned it before. But there they were with a variety of sweets spread out between them.

Ryoma was practically squirming with delight.

The grins remained on their faces as they dug in. Ryoma leaned against Okita as he bit into a manjū, groaning as the sweet bean paste filling hit his tongue. He felt the vibrations of Okita’s answering chuckle before the sound even reached his ears, but Okita was no better the second he took a bite of his own.

“Shit, this is good,” Okita said, wrapping an arm around Ryoma as they made their way through their improvised breakfast.

Ryoma couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so relaxed, certainly not any time recently. What was coming wasn’t going to be easy, but there was nothing they could do about that now. All they could do was wait for the rain to stop and the flood to recede. There was no point worrying about what he couldn’t control, so he vowed to make the most of the day. The most of this time with Okita.

“Yer smilin’.” Okita squinted at him, bun frozen partway to his lips. The corners of his lips twitched, threatening to give way to his own smile.

Ryoma looked away but couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “These taste so good.”

Okita bumped his shoulder into him, smirking as he bit into his own bun. “Mmhmm.”

When breakfast was done, they finally got up and tugged their clothes back on so they could make the trip to the bathhouse. It wasn’t until Ryoma headed outside that he realized Okita was lagging behind. He didn’t have long to worry though because a moment later a familiar arm linked with his and the rain was suddenly blocked by a wagasa.

Ryoma looked up at the red and gold umbrella now shielding him from the rain before back at Okita with a smirk. “And who’d you nab that from?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, gotta keep my Hajime-chan dry,” Okita replied, grinning back.

Ryoma chuckled as they headed off in the direction of the bathhouse. The size of the umbrella forced them to remain close, but he didn’t mind. He quite enjoyed the closeness, Okita holding onto his arm, pressed up against him without a care in the world. There was a freedom in that they were just two strangers traveling the road. No one knew them. No one cared as they traversed across a bridge arm in arm.

“We should get dinner after,” Okita said, eyeing a few of the eateries they passed.

“Noodles?”

“Whatever ya desire. My treat.”

Ryoma stopped abruptly, throwing Okita off balance before he pulled him back into his arms and kissed him right there in the middle of the road. He wasn’t sure why such a simple thing had him boiling over with affection, but he couldn’t resist kissing the man, a smile stuck on his lips once again.

Okita was so focused on the kiss he hadn’t paid attention to the umbrella until it tipped just right, dumping cold water right down Ryoma’s back. The dancing samurai yelped, breaking the kiss to leap out of the way. There was a dazed look on Okita’s face as if it took him a moment to register what happened before they both burst out laughing uncaring of the people giving them strange looks in passing. Adjusting the umbrella, Okita was quick to pull Ryoma back under it. Arms linked once again with grins plastered on both their faces, they set out back toward the bathhouse.

“I hope this rain lets up soon,” Ryoma replied, holding his free hand out to catch the falling drops. It was cool against his palm.

“Floodin’ might take a bit t’ go down,” Okita agreed as Ryoma guided them into the public bathhouse. He quickly closed the umbrella, shoving it into an umbrella rack inside the door before they headed further in still arm in arm.

“That’s what concerns me,” Ryoma replied.

They headed up to the Okami and were let into the bathhouse after paying the fee. Then were guided to a room they could change and store their things. It might have been a mixed gender bath, but they had private rooms to rinse off beforehand. Silently, they stripped down and folded their clothing for later, tucking their things away in a basket. Ryoma watched, transfixed, as Okita freed his hair. The black locks tumbled down into his face and Ryoma couldn’t resist reaching out to brush it back behind his ear.

The first captain smiled and stepped closer. Running his hands up Ryoma’s chest, he slipped a hand back to hold the nap of Ryoma’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. It distracted Ryoma long enough for Okita to free his hair of its own tie. Then Okita was pulling away, tugging him by the hand toward the wash area.

Ryoma found it hard to keep his eyes off Okita as they walked toward the adjoining room where they would get washed off before they entered the bath. He’d seen the man naked many times now, and each time never failed to take his breath away. Okita took pride in his strength and his body was a chiselled reflection of that. He was gorgeous.

Okita caught him looking.  His lips twitched into a smirk as he turned to face Ryoma, resting a hand on his hip. “Like what ya see, do ya?”

An answering smirk pulled at Ryoma’s lips as he walked by, eyeing Okita up in passing, but he didn’t respond. He heard the man huff, then Okita was pressed up against his back, arms slipping around his waist as he kissed his way up Ryoma’s neck, nose nuzzling into his hairline. The dancing samurai shivered, feeling the smirk that pressed into his skin with each kiss. Teeth worried at a sensitive spot just below his ear sending a jolt of desire straight through him.

“Soji…”

A tongue teased up Ryoma’s neck before Okita whispered in his ear. “Do ya have any idea how hard it is t’ keep my hands t’ myself around ya?” He kissed his way back down Ryoma’s neck, his fingers teasing over Ryoma’s abdomen. “I think I deserve a treat.”

Ryoma leaned back into his touch with a grin. “Oh, you do, do you?”

“Mhmm.” The brush of fingers teased along Ryoma’s v-line, tracing the grooves carved out by solid muscle down, down, down.

“Why does it feel like I’m the one getting rewarded?” Ryoma grinned over his shoulder. He turned around in Okita’s arms before that hand could get any lower only to find himself backed up further into the room and pressed up against the wall. The hungry look Okita was giving him set his blood on fire.

Their lips met in a fierce kiss, but Okita didn’t linger. He pulled away almost immediately leaving Ryoma chasing after his lips only for Okita to step back, grinning.

“Let’s get you clean, hmm?” Okita said, mischief in his eye as he looked Ryoma over. He nodded toward the stool next to a trough of hot water. “Sit.”

Ryoma chuckled, but did as he was told, taking a seat while Okita moved behind him.

The sound of sloshing water could be heard as Okita filled the bathing ladle. Pulling his hair over his shoulder, Ryoma tipped his head forward before Okita carefully poured the warm water down his back. The trickle of water could be heard once again as Okita retrieve the nukabukuro, a small bag of rice bran, and squeezed the water out. Then he was kneeling at Ryoma’s side, taking his time to scrub Ryoma’s back with the rice bran. Ryoma sighed contentedly, eyes slipping shut as Okita pressed a kiss to his shoulder, slowly working the rice bran to a lather across Ryoma’s back. He started at his shoulders, moving down lower and lower, massaging the skin as he went until Ryoma was practically turning into putty. The stress and tension melting out of his back.

A soft, pleased sigh left Ryoma’s lips.

Once Okita finished Ryoma’s lower back, he stood again and started to work Ryoma’s shoulders. He squeezed and massaged and worked Ryoma into a relaxed state before tossing the nukabukuro aside. His palms slid down over Ryoma’s pecs, working the rice bran into his skin with more attention than was necessary, but Ryoma wasn’t complaining. He shuddered under Okita’s touch. Lips pressed just behind Ryoma’s ear, and he felt Okita smirk right before squeezing Ryoma’s pecs.

Breathing hitching, Ryoma caught Okita’s wrist and stood up abruptly. Two could play at that game. He turned in Okita’s arms, closing the distance between them. Distracting the first captain with a kiss, he reached blindly for the nukabukuro and began to scrub Okita down too starting with his chest. Okita’s hand came up, fingers threading into Ryoma’s hair at the back of his head as he held him close, losing himself in the kiss. He shuddered under Ryoma’s touch.

Soon Okita caught on, bringing his hands back to Ryoma’s chest, he began to work the lather into Ryoma’s skin once again. Both of them using it as an excuse to feel each other up, working their way down over each other’s bodies. Every touch had heat pooling in Ryoma’s core, his cock twitching to life between them, but he ignored it, focusing his attention on the man before him.

Okita nipped at his lower lip, tugging on it as he broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against Ryoma’s, eye closed as a shudder racked his body. His breath caught as Ryoma’s hands worked their way down over his abs. Fingers teasing and tracing and following the grooves carved out by the muscles currently writhing under his touch.

It was getting harder and harder to take their time. Their touches quickly turning less innocent and more heated. Ryoma dropped the nukabukuro in favour of getting both hands fully on Okita’s body. His fingers followed the wiry, dark trail of hair from Okita’s navel down to his swelling cock. A quiet moan escaped Okita’s lips as Ryoma took him in hand.

“Hajime-chan,” Okita breathed out, gaze falling to watch as Ryoma slowly jerked him off, hand slick with the lather from the rice bran. Ryoma felt him growing harder in his hand, felt him twitch before he thrust his hips into his fist. He cursed under his breath, clinging on to Ryoma’s biceps.

The sight had Ryoma’s own cock fully hard now and he shifted, pressing himself against Okita’s thigh. Desperate for any kind of friction. He cursed under his breath, moaning as he thrust himself against the slick skin, hips rocking as his hand sped up on Okita.

“W-wait, let me suck ya off,” Okita said, already sounding breathless.

The thought sent a jolt of desire straight to Ryoma’s cock, a low groan escaping his lips. He reluctantly released him, stepping back just as Okita dropped unceremoniously to his knees. He cupped Okita’s jaw, thumb brushing over his lower lip as he tipped his head up to look at him.

The sight before him was enough to make him shudder. Okita naked and on his knees. His hair down, falling in waves just below his jaw. Pupil blown and face flush with desire. His lips were darker than usual, bruised from kissing and slightly swollen as Okita parted them, tongue lolling out.

Ryoma groaned.

Taking himself in hand, Ryoma guided his cock to Okita’s lips, rubbing the head over Okita’s slick tongue with a breathy moan. Okita continued to look up at him through thick eyelashes as his hands slid up the back of Ryoma’s thighs. The touch was a silent plea for more, and who was Ryoma to deny him? He watched as he slipped further into Okita’s hot mouth. Greedy lips sealed around the head with a satisfied hum that sent vibrations racing up Ryoma’s shaft.

Impatience won out and Okita pressed forward, determined to take Ryoma all in. His cheeks hollowed around the cock in his mouth, tongue pressed flat against the sensitive flesh. He pulled on the back of Ryoma’s thighs once again, unable to do anything more than plead with a whine.

Ryoma knew what he wanted. He released his grip on his own cock before brushing his fingers through Okita’s hair. He gripped the dark locks in a firm grip, holding his head steady as he thrust himself into the warm, wet heat with a moan of his name.

“Soji…” he breathed out, sighing in pleasure.

Okita’s nails bit into Ryoma’s thighs, encouraging him to take what he wanted, and Ryoma did. He fucked into Okita’s willing mouth, chasing after his own pleasure. It felt so good each time he slid down Okita’s throat. He felt the man swallow around him, throat constricting, and then he was pulling out again only to thrust back into the wet heat. The first captain was a mess. Lips red and abused, stretched around Ryoma’s cock. Drool running down his chin and tears down his cheek.

Beautiful, Ryoma thought.  

Okita dropped a hand between his own legs, jerking himself off at a rapid pace with a loud moan that raced right up Ryoma’s shaft. The sight of Okita getting off on being used by Ryoma was almost enough to do him in.

It hadn’t taken long for the heat to build up inside Ryoma, the tight coil of pressure building in his core ready to burst at any moment. He chased that pleasure, fucking into Okita’s mouth again and again. He gasped, moaning louder than he meant to. “N-not gonna… fuck so close.”

Okita hummed in response and it was nearly too much. The vibrations raced up his cock and he gasped. Then Okita swallowed around him, humming once again, and Ryoma couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried. Thrusting once, twice, three more times before he buried himself down Okita’s throat as he came. Body stiff, vision blurring as white-hot pleasure shot through his veins, and he was forced to bite down on his own hand to quiet his cries of ecstasy. Each pulse of his cock had him spilling down Okita’s throat and he greedily swallowed everything he was given. It made Ryoma’s knees weak, threatening to give out beneath him as he trembled.

As the pleasure-filled haze began to clear in his mind and Ryoma was vaguely aware of Okita moaning loudly around him. He shuddered, having to pull out as oversensitivity started to become too much. He stepped back just in time to watch as Okita came, spilling over his own fingers with a breathy moan. Ryoma couldn’t resist sinking to his knees, resting his hand on the back of Okita’s neck as he brought their foreheads together, and they trembled there, slowly coming down from the high of release. Okita clung back to his biceps as if afraid to let go.

Okita was the first to break the silent letting out a breathy chuckle. “So much fer getting’ clean,” he mumbled, voice sounding hoarse.

Ryoma smirked lightly squeezing the back of Okita’s neck. “You started it.”

Okita’s grin widened. “You looked at me first.”

“Fair point,” Ryoma replied with a grin. He stole another kiss before climbing to his feet once again and holding his hand out for Okita.

They quickly rinsed themselves off after that before finally heading for the bath.

Chapter Text

Steam swirled around Ryoma’s ankles as he stepped into the bathing room. The warmth of the room seeped into his bones making him feel more relaxed than he already was He couldn’t wait to get in the bath.

Okita was close on his heels as he led him toward the water. Their hands nearly brushing with their need to be close together. Ryoma almost reached out and took it. A smile pulled at his lips at the thought.

The bath itself was thankfully not too full. There was a small group of men and women taking up one side of the bath, but that left the other free for Ryoma and Okita. Ryoma carefully stepped in, feeling the heat of the water sting his skin, but it felt good. He quickly moved deeper and sank down into the water with a pleased groan. Sitting down, the hot water stopped just below his shoulder.

Okita splashed in behind him less gracefully. He sloshed through the water before he plopped down beside Ryoma. A smile tugged at Ryoma’s lips, amused by Okita’s antics.

“Whatcha smilin’ at?” Okita huffed, leaning against Ryoma. He settled with his back against Ryoma’s chest, his head dropping back into Ryoma’s shoulder with a content hum as Ryoma wrapped his arms around him.

“You.”

Okita slipped a hand down Ryoma’s arm, fingers threading together before he lifted his hand out of the water. Just when Ryoma thought Okita was going to kiss his palm, he chose to bite down instead, grinning.

“Ow ow ow ow! Menace!” Ryoma yelped as Okita threw his head back laughing. “What was that for?”

“Was worried ya thought I was bein’ too sweet.” Okita shot him a toothy grin, eye wide as he glanced back.

Ryoma snorted, unable to stop himself from laughing too. He knew they were drawing looks, but he didn’t care. Wrapping his arms back tightly around Okita, he squeezed him tight. “Absolute menace!”

Okita laughed, wheezing as he was squeezed. “Yer crushin’ me!”

“As if you don’t enjoy it!”

An undignified squawk left Okita that had them both laughing once again. The looks from the other bathers didn’t help, but soon enough they settled down. Relaxing there in the steamy water for a while and enjoying the warmth and the closeness in a comfortable silence.

Okita hummed, almost like he was trying to keep himself from nodding off against Ryoma. He stretched, back arching away from Ryoma. A soft pop had Okita letting out a satisfied sigh before settling against Ryoma once again.

“We could just stay here,” he mumbled a moment later.

The comment caught Ryoma off guard, but he couldn’t say the thought didn’t warm his heart. “Mhmm,” he agreed like it would be that simple. “Think anyone would come looking for us?”

“Let’s just send word that we died,” Okita replied. “We put up a good fight, but the bandits got us!”

Ryoma snorted out a laugh. “As if you’d let that happen! The great Okita Soji felled by some lowly bandits!”

Okita cackled. “Yer right, no one would believe that.”

“We’d have to think up a new set of names,” Ryoma continued, smiling to himself. It was a terrible idea, but it made him happy regardless.

Humming as if Okita was lost in thought, he suddenly turned his head to look at Ryoma, eye wide. “So, we make ya my wife! Okita Hajime.”

That startled another laugh out of the dancing samurai. “That’s not blending in! We wouldn’t need surnames anyway.”

“Why not? We’re samurai!”

“Not if we fake our deaths.”

“Good point,” Okita replied with a huff, settling back against Ryoma. “Hajime-chan doesn’t wanna marry me!”

“What? No!” Ryoma replied with a laugh. “I just think Saito Soji has a better ring to it.”

Okita snickered. “Yer the better cook. You can take care of the home.”

Ryoma laughed again, shaking his head. It was all fun and games, but he knew they both took their duties far too seriously to run away on a dream. Even one that sounded more real than anything in his life currently was turning out to be. He sighed heavily. “Nagakura might come looking. For you anyway.”

“He might join us,” Okita replied, smirking. “And don’t sell yerself short. He’d look fer ya too.”

“Hmm?” Ryoma wasn’t sure why that revelation startled him so much. He’d done nothing but mess up their lives since joining the Shinsengumi, but Inoue had defended him to make up for what he’d done and Okita was currently relaxed in his arms. Now knowing Nagakura actually liked him too? Ryoma wasn’t sure what to make of it, this newfound family he seemed to have stumbled into despite everything he’d lost, but he was grateful he’d gone to the Shinsengumi after all.

“And you wouldn’t get bored with the retired like?” Ryoma asked, still smiling to himself.

“Plenty of bandits to wet my sword with!” Okita’s smirk morphed into a wicked grin.

Ryoma snorted, eyeing the other people who thankfully didn’t appear to be listening in at all. He smirked leaning in to whisper in Okita’s ear. “And if I wanted to keep you all to myself?”

Okita gasped, pretending to be offended, but when he looked back at Ryoma, there was amusement in his eye. “Hajime-chan, are ya askin’ to be the only one to polish my sword?”

“Insatiable!”

Okita cackled loudly, drawing a few glares, but neither of them seemed to care. They settled down together after that, smiles affixed to both their faces before Okita let out a soft sigh. When he spoke again, it was much lower as if he hadn’t really meant to say it at all. “Would be nice if we could, huh?”

Ryoma held Okita a little tighter, his heart clenching at the thought. He pressed a kiss to Okita’s temple before letting out his own sigh. “That’s a problem for tomorrow. Let’s live today like we aren’t on borrowed time.”

“Right, and I’m gonna treat ya t’ dinner,” Okita said, grinning. “Shall we?”

“In a moment,” Ryoma replied, smiling back as he pulled Okita tight in his arms.

By the time they left the bathhouse, it was early evening and the sun was just starting to set. It was a promising sign that the rain was finally starting to slow and the clouds had started to part enough to show the brilliant colours of the sunset lighting up the sky.

Okita linked his arm with Ryoma’s once again, shielding them from the rain with yet another umbrella. This time it was deep indigo. Ryoma snorted at the sight of it.

“Wagasa bandit,” Ryoma said, smirking.

“What? They ain’t usin’ it!” Okita protested, grinning right back.

Ryoma chuckled, shooting him a fond smile. “Never change, Okita.”

The streets were far more crowded now than they were before their bath. Especially as they made their way through the market. Luckily, no one seemed to pay them any mind as the locals rushed about doing their shopping.

Okita led them into one of the noodle shops they had passed earlier. There they ordered more food than was probably necessary for two men, but Ryoma hadn’t realized he was starving until the smell of food assaulted his nose. The two of them practically inhaled their meal and shared their first bottle of sake. Ryoma was pleasantly buzzed when they left the shop and continued on their way in search of something to do.

“Oh! Look, Hajime-chan!” Okita said excitedly. “A singing bar! Sing with me!” He was already pulling Ryoma inside before the dancing samurai even had a chance to protest, not that he had any plans to. Singing with Okita was always fun. Okita had so much energy. He belted out songs, bouncing around like he’d been possessed by a yokai. All wild grins and flailing moves. It was exhilarating to try and keep up.

Of course, Okita was equally as supportive as back up, cheering the loudest for Ryoma like it was his job and his life depended on it. He was nothing but praise or stern encouragement if Ryoma messed up. It was a boon for Ryoma’s confidence, and that night was no different. They sang their hearts out in between bottles of sake until they could barely stand and the locals started to complain about them hogging the stage.

Okita was cackling loudly, leaning heavily against Ryoma for support. “C’mon, Hajime-chan! Let’s get outta here.”

“Lead the way!” Ryoma said, grinning madly. His face was starting to hurt.

They were both fairly drunk when they stumbled out of the singing bar, holding each other up as they headed back through the market, flushed from alcohol and grins plastered on their faces.

“Look, Hajime-chan!” Okita nearly tipped over as suddenly changed course, yanking Ryoma towards one of the shops.

Ryoma stumbled into the pawnshop with Okita, confused until the first captain led him up to a display that held a single fan. It was beautiful, painted red and white with splashes of gold. It must have been expensive, but Okita didn’t seem to care as he plucked it from its stand. Ryoma couldn’t figure out how Okita had even noticed it from outside let alone with how drunk they both were.

“Hajime-chan, will ya dance fer me?” Okita asked, grinning at him wickedly as he fanned himself. The only sign he was as inebriated as Ryoma was the fact he seemed to sway on his feet.

Either that or the world was spinning, Ryoma couldn’t tell. “Now?”

“Nah,” Okita whined. “I want a private show!”

“Oh?” The thought shouldn’t have warmed Ryoma’s blood the way it did, but he had always liked when Okita watched him. A thought he would never admit out loud. So, he stepped closer, swaying on his feet. “Buy me the fan and we’ll see.”

Okita visibly swallowed, gaze falling straight for Ryoma’s lips, and for a brief moment, Ryoma thought he was going to kiss him until the shop owner loudly cleared their throat instantly shattering the spell between them. Okita snicked and spun on his heel, nearly toppling over and taking a shelf with him as he moved up to the purchase the fan.

Soon they were back out on the street, the fan tucked safely into Ryoma’s sleeve.

Sometime on their way back to the room, Okita had managed to procure more sake. Ryoma wasn't sure it was a good idea for their early start, but he was having such a good time he didn't want to stop either. They stumbled into their room together where Ryoma nearly tripped, face planting into their futon. Something that had them both giggling too loudly for the late hour.

"Hajime-chan, dance fer me!" Okita said, heavily slurring his words.

"There's no music!"

Okita practically pouted. “Ya don’t need music to move those hips!” He dropped down heavily beside the low table before proceeding to pour them both a cup of the sake he’d bought.

“Fine, but let me get changed first,” Ryoma replied, swaying as he headed off in search of his yukata.

“A show and a dance then,” Okita replied, grinning wolfishly. Ryoma could feel Okita’s eye on him as he stripped out of his kimono and changed into his yukata. He just smirked over his shoulder at him.

“Pervert!”

“You love it!”

“Maybe!”

Okita cackled.

“You’re good for my confidence.” Ryoma replied. He fished the fan Okita had bought him from the sleeve of his discarded kimono before nearing the table. Leaning down, he grabbed his cup, tipping back the sake before stepping away.

Ryoma closed his eyes to steady himself. Mostly because he couldn’t tell if the room was moving or he was. The dance wasn’t going to go well, but Okita didn’t need to know that. Then again, he could still fight when he was far drunker than this…

When he opened his eyes again, he met Okita’s gaze. The first captain leaned back on his palms, gaze fixed on Ryoma.

Taking a deep breath, Ryoma began to move. He felt a little foolish without the beat of music to back him up, but he knew the moves well. His hips swayed to an imaginary beat as he brought the closed fan up, pointing it straight out at Okita before he snapped it open with the flick of his wrist.

Okita whistled and Ryoma smirked.

He carried on with the deliberate movements, bringing the fan above his head before letting it flutter back down in a slow zigzagging movement. Then began to turn, swaying with the notes in his head.

“Wait! Hajime-chan, show me!”

Ryoma hadn’t heard the other move until a mass collided with his back making him stumbled forward. He assumed Okita had tripped, and when the first captain spoke again it seemed to confirm just that. He smirked.

“Oops!” Okita said, snickering. Arms slipped around Ryoma’s waist, a chin digging into his shoulder. “Teach me!”

The full weight of Okita against him had him staggering forward. Drunk as Ryoma was, he could barely stand either. He laughed. “Thought I was meant to put on a show?”

“Maybe I wanna learn how t’ seduce ya too,” Okita purred in his ear.

Ryoma shivered, leaning back against Okita. “I think you already figured that out.”

Okita snickered again, swaying dangerously. “Are ya complainin’?”

“Not even a little bit.” He turned his head to kiss Okita, but that turned out to be a grave mistake. It sent them both off balance and they stumbled forward a step. Then another, and suddenly they were crashing down onto the futon in a tabled mess of limbs. Shock left them both dazed and speechless for the briefest of moments. They looked at each other wide-eyed and slack jawed before suddenly bursting out laughing in unison. They laughed themselves breathless, tears streaming down their faces. And just as they were beginning to settle, someone shouted from another room to shut up, and off they were laughing once again, clinging to each other.

It was a long while before they finally calmed down once again, breathless and faces aching from smiling too much. Neither of them had made a move to go anywhere, clinging on to each other as they regained their breath.

“Maybe we should be a little less drunk for this,” Ryoma said, breaking the silence as he snickered.

Okita lifted his head, grinning. “Maybe, but it’s fun.”

Ryoma smiled, letting out a hum of agreement. Then Okita yawned and Ryoma soon followed. He suspected Okita was feeling the same thing he was. Neither of them wanted the night to end, but there was no delaying the inevitable, and traveling while exhausted would only make things worse.

He sighed. “Shall we get ready for sleep?”

Okita huffed, but didn’t argue as he pushed himself to his feet and held his hand out for Ryoma. They both stripped down in silence and got ready for bed. It wasn’t long before they were both curled up under the blanket on the futon once again. This time Okita rest with his head on Ryoma’s chest, an arm draped over his abdomen, as Ryoma held him tight in his arms. He pressed a kiss to Okita’s head.

“G’night,” Okita mumbled, already sounding far more asleep than awake.

“Night,” Ryoma replied. He might have been nervous for what tomorrow brought, but just then, he realized, he’d never been happier.

Soon they were both out cold, resting peacefully in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

There was a quiet apprehension in the air that morning. Ryoma felt it the moment he started to wake, like a heavy weight on his chest that had nothing to do with the man using him as a pillow. The feeling only grew when he opened his eyes, glancing out at the sun streaming through the open panels.

The rain had stopped, and now the sun was out. The sky was a brilliant blue, free of any clouds. If luck was on their side, the flood waters would have receded by now and they could be on their way. That should have been a good thing, but the previous day had left him with a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. He didn’t want to give that up.

However, Ryoma was a man of honour. He was going to fix the mess he’d made. He would save Kyo so the people could rest easy even if that meant he didn’t get his own peaceful ending. Until recently, that hadn’t meant much. His life hadn’t meant much. He had nothing, no one. Regardless on if his kyoudai was alive or not, the man had made his choice clear. They were on opposite sides. Ryoma had been left alone to unravel the mystery of his father's killer only for things to spiral out of control. 

But now?

Now he had Okita. It didn’t matter that they had started out as enemies. They were here, now. Together. Okita was someone he wanted to protect no matter what, even if the man was willing to stare death in the face with him. He had someone to live for. Someone to fill him with strength again. And that was what scared him.

What misfortunes would this journey bring? He couldn’t stand the idea of Okita getting hurt because of him.

A soft sigh escaped Ryoma’s lips as he shut the thoughts out, focusing instead on the man curled up in his arms, both of them wrapped in a warm cocoon of blankets. He could shut out the day for a little while longer, enjoy the comfort of the man pressed against him. Just a little while longer he would hold on to that peace.

Okita must have sensed Ryoma was a wake because it wasn’t long before he started to stir. His muscles tensed as he shifted, face still buried in the dancing samurai’s chest as he stretched against Ryoma with a satisfied groan. He settled once again, arm still tight around Ryoma’s waist as he stifled a yawn before muttering, “morning.”

“Morning,” Ryoma muttered back, his own voice still little more than a deep rumble. Keeping one arm tight around Okita’s waist, the other slipped into his hair, fingers running through the soft locks.

“Don’t wanna get up yet,” Okita replied, voice muffled in Ryoma’s chest. It made the dancing samurai chuckle.

Fingers teased their way up Ryoma’s side, light enough to almost be too much, too ticklish, but he should have known they wouldn’t stay innocent for long. Okita slid his palm over one of Ryoma’s pecs, squeezing with a pleased hum.

“Let’s just stay another day,” Okita protested. “Not get outta bed.”

Ryoma chuckled again. It warmed his heart to know they were on the same page, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. “We’ve already stayed too long,” he replied with a soft sigh. He started to move, tensing up as he prepared to slip out of Okita’s arms.

The first captain had no intentions of letting him go that easily. He shifted his weight until he was laying more on top of Ryoma, slowly kissing his way up the centre of his chest to his neck. He pressed his hips down against the man beneath him and Ryoma could feel the hardness pressing against his thigh. “And now?”

A smirk pulled at Ryoma’s lips and he hummed in thought. “I think we can stay a little while longer.”

“That’s what I thought.” Okita grinned and captured Ryoma’s lips in a lazy kiss.  

Ryoma returned the grin, shivering as arousal flared inside of him. He slipped his fingers into Okita’s hair, gently holding the back of the man’s head as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, an unhurried brush of lips, but it didn’t take much for it to grow heated as Okita’s patience wore out. His tongue teased past Ryoma’s lips to brush against his own.

Okita shifted again, straddling Ryoma’s thighs so he could press their hips together. They groaned in unison as Okita rocked down against him. It didn’t take much to get Ryoma going, his cock growing stiffer by the second as they slid together. The dancing samurai’s hips lifted up, pressing back against Okita’s as his free hand slipped down his back to squeeze Okita’s ass, pressing them closer. The answering moan was muffled against their lips.

The kiss was broken a moment later as Okita kissed down Ryoma’s jaw to his neck. Tongue and teeth teased their way over Ryoma’s pulse point, and Ryoma could feel his heart rate speed up. His head tipped back, eyes slipping closed as he relaxed beneath Okita.

“What were you dreaming about?” Ryoma queried.

“You,” Okita breathed in his ear, hips thrusting against Ryoma as if to get his point across.

Ryoma moaned only for the sound to be cut off by a gasp as Okita bit down on a sensitive part of his neck. It seemed he was determined to leave a mark as he sucked on the skin. There would be no hiding the mark, Ryoma couldn’t bring himself to be upset as a tongue traced over the grooves left by Okita’s teeth. The first captain finished up by pressing a kiss to the bruised skin. Ryoma could feel the smirk on his lips as they pressed against his neck.

Hands ran down Ryoma’s sides, soft and warm as they mapped out his body. They slid over his hips, giving them a light squeeze before continuing back up, slipping into the narrow gap between their bodies to trace over his abs and finally settle on his pecs once again.

“Soji,” Ryoma sighed out, arching into the touch. Okita squeezed his pecs, kneading the muscles beneath his palms. Ryoma cursed, his head tipping back, lips parted on a breathy moan as Okita teased his nipples sending a wave of arousal straight to his core.

“Beautiful,” Okita whispered as he looked down at Ryoma through a heavily lidded eye. Ryoma was sure he looked like a mess, hair still mussed from sleep, face flushed, but the words sent warmth through him anyway. Then Okita leaned back down, claiming Ryoma’s lips in another hungry kiss.

The dancing samurai moved to slip a hand between them but Okita caught his wrist. "No," he whispered against Ryoma's lips. "Just like this." His hips rocked and Ryoma groaned as their hard cocks slid together, already slick with precum.

They were warm and content. Their movements lazy as they rocked together, sharing hungry kisses and enjoying the slow build-up of pleasure. Hips rocked faster as the desperation grew, and Ryoma couldn’t resist flipping them over. Rolling Okita onto his back, Ryoma settled between his thighs. He picked up the pace, rutting himself against Okita, with a breathy moan of his name.

“Ryoma-chan,” Okita moaned out, arching up against him. Hands fisted into Ryoma’s hair, pulling Ryoma back into another kiss. He nipped at the dancing samurai’s lower lip before sucking the swollen flesh between his own lips to tease it further.

A leg wrapped around Ryoma in a way that pressed them even closer together, holding him close as if the mere idea of space between them was too much to handle right then. He wouldn’t even let Ryoma slip a hand between them. The dancing samurai suspected Okita was procrastinating the morning just as much as he was. As if pulling apart right then would be the last time they would ever be this close.

Ryoma still couldn’t tell when it first happened. That moment he’d started developing deeper feelings for the violent man currently pressed beneath him. Had there been a singular moment? He could recall realizing it when he spoke it out loud to Oryo before they left, but the feelings had existed before that. He’d never been able to deny his attraction to Okita, but somewhere along the way, that lust had developed into something more. He’d been aware of it for a while now, but he’d tried so hard to deny it. To bury it down. Especially after Okita tried pushing him away too, but that had only made him realize it more. Thinking Okita wanted nothing more to do with him, it had hurt more than he cared to admit.

And now? Now, everything felt right.

“Ryoma,” Okita whispered against his lips. The broken moan that followed sent molten heat searing through Ryoma’s veins. Ryoma answered with a moan of his own, hips rocking back against Okita’s.

“Don’t…” Okita continued. His voice sounded so raw, full of more emotion than he’d ever shown. “Don’t let go…”

It was that moment Ryoma knew that what ever this was between them, Okita was on the same page. Of course, he was. When had they ever not truly been in sync? Even when they were strangers butting heads.

“Please,” Okita whispered. “I need you at my side.”

Ryoma answered with a fierce kiss, trying to convey everything he was feeling, every ounce of affection in that kiss. And Okita responded just as eagerly, kissing until their lungs burned, their lips sore and swollen.

“Ngh, not gonna last,” Okita moaned out, breaking the kiss. His head tipped back, eye shut as his lips parted on a moan of Ryoma’s name. The sight took Ryoma’s breath away. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded. “So close.”

Letting out a shuddering breath, Ryoma leaned down, kissing his way up Okita’s exposed neck as he picked up the pace, rutting and grinding against Okita with a breathy moan of his name. He knew he wasn’t much further behind. He could feel his own climax creeping up on him, the heat building in his gut, the tension threatening to burst the closer he got to that edge. Slipping his hands beneath Okita’s arms, he held on tight to his shoulders, burying his face into Okita’s neck.

“Don’t hold back,” he moaned out, “Cum for me Soji.”

“Ryoma,” Okita moaned brokenly.

“I’ve got you,” Ryoma replied, kissing his neck.

And that was all it took. Okita cried out louder this time, moaning Ryoma’s given name as his body tensed up beneath him. Then Ryoma felt his release splatter between their bodies, but he didn’t stop. Ryoma thrust against him, chasing after his own release.

“That’s it,” Okita moaned out brokenly. “Give it t’ me. Oh fuck. Please.”

It was too much. Ryoma felt himself tense, nails biting into Okita’s shoulders as he held on. He thrust once, twice, three more times before the dam broke. White hot pleasure seared through his veins as he slipped over the edge. He moaned Okita’s name as he spilled between their bodies, adding to the mess already there with each pulse of his cock. Burying his face into Okita’s neck as he shook, they continued grinding their bodies together. Their movements gradually slowed until they both went limp, sinking back onto the futon. Ryoma made no move to get off Okita, and Okita didn’t seem to complain. His arms wrapped tightly around him.

Ryoma was pleasantly dazed, face still buried in Okita’s neck as they both slowly came down from the high of release. His heart was still hammering away in his chest and he let out a content sigh, holding Okita tighter.

Neither of them was in any hurry to move despite knowing there wasn’t much time left. Okita’s fingers idly traced invisible patterns into Ryoma’s back as he sighed softly. His breath fanning out over Ryoma’s shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“What ya said to me before…” Okita started. He trailed off as if lost in thought, considering his next words. The silence stretched on for so long that Ryoma thought Okita wasn’t going to speak up again. “’bout wantin’ t’ keep me t’ yerself?”

“Yes?” Ryoma replied. He lifted his head to look down at Okita and ran his fingers slowly through the man’s soft hair, brushing it back.

“Did ya mean it?”

“Every word,” Ryoma replied without an ounce of hesitation.

Okita hummed in response. Ryoma could feel the man relax as if the tension had drained out of his body. He fell silent again and Ryoma was sure that was the end of the conversation. Burying his face into Okita’s neck once again, he was about to suggest they get ready when Okita finally replied.

“Good, cause I ain’t sharin’ ya either.”

Warmth flooded Ryoma’s chest then, his heart skipping a beat. He smiled to himself, holding Okita a little tighter. The desire to remain there just a little bit longer flared again. They had more time, right?

Ryoma certainly hoped so.

“There is no one else, but you.”

“Good.”

Chapter Text

It was late morning by the time the two had emerged from their room and set out for the day. The stormy weather had cleared and the clouds had left the sky letting the sun finally shine through for what felt like the first time in days.

Okita was in high spirits despite the apprehension of the journey ahead. He felt like a new man. This time they weren’t setting out as adversaries or locked in some stupid argument that was admittedly his fault. No, this time they were… something more. Truthfully, he didn’t know what they were, but he knew it felt right. They were stronger together.

They spent the remainder of the morning re-stocking their supplies where Okita managed to convince Ryoma to rent horses. There may have been a bit of pestering involved, but the dancing samurai finally gave in to his power of persuasion, and they set off on the road once again.

Eventually, Ryoma had begrudgingly admitted the horses were a good idea too, much to Okita’s amusement. They had been able to carry more supplies on them which meant making fewer stops along the way. Not to mention the horses were able to move faster than they could on foot. They were able to make up for a lot of lost time, covering longer distances in a day than they could have walking. Two days had passed like it was nothing and they were nearing one of their final stops before they reached Edo.

It couldn’t have been much past midday as Ryoma slowed the horse to a trot, falling behind Okita. In the station just ahead, they would spend the night and catch a ship in the morning. Their little adventure was nearly at its end. As much as Okita was looking forward to storming the castle, he had to admit, he was a little sad it was almost over. Then again, who would be upset if they happened to take their time returning to Kyo?

If everything went well…

Okita didn’t like to admit it, but he was anxious. They didn’t have much of a plan and he knew they weren’t just going to be welcomed in with open arms. He liked a good fight, but they were going up against impossible odds. Then again, that was what made it so exciting.

“Okita…” Ryoma called.

Okita had been so lost in thought, he hadn’t even noticed Ryoma had stopped. Slowing his horse to a stop, he turned the beast around to face Ryoma. “Haw? Somethin’ wrong, Hajime-chan?”

“No nothing like that. I just had a thought…”

“’Bout how handsome I am, right?” Okita grinned, leading his horse back to Ryoma. He stopped so they were side by side, still facing in opposite directions.

Ryoma smirked. “No. Well, yes, but no.”

Okita hummed in thought, leaning forward into Ryoma’s space as a wolfish grin spread across his face. “’Bout how much ya can’t wait t’ get me alone again?”

Ryoma pushed his face away, chuckling as Okita cackled. “No, just listen!” he replied, laughing. “It’s midday, how about we do something fun?”

A grin pulled at Okita’s lips. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about! It better be me.”

“Insatiable!” Ryoma laughed. “Just follow me.”

“Lead the way!”

Ryoma turned back the way they had just come, setting off at a gallop, and Okita followed close on his heels. A short way up, he made a right turn down a narrow path into the woods, racing through the trees.

Okita enjoyed the fast pace, the feel of wind in his hair. The blur of the trees as they raced past. This was already turning out to be a much better idea than sitting around in some ryokan waiting for morning.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Ryoma shot Okita a grin before he sped off faster, and Okita gave chase, laughing loudly behind him. It was easy to lose track of how long they had been running for, their laughter echoing amongst the trees.

Eventually, the sound of running water grew louder and louder before the trail opened up to reveal a small waterfall pouring down into a pool of water. Firey red maple trees framed the edges. Okita was immediately at a loss for words, his eye wide as he stared out over the water. It was beautiful and peaceful.

Ryoma slowed his horse to a stop and slipped off. Walking the animal over to a tree, he tied her lead around the trunk where she could rest and munch on grass before he began ruffling around in his bags.

Okita was speechless as he followed Ryoma’s lead silently, his eyes trained on the view before them. He barely paid attention to what he was doing as he tied his horse to the tree beside Ryoma’s.

“I thought we could use a break. Nothing we can do until later anyway,” Ryoma spoke as Okita stepped towards the water’s edge. “I found this place on my way to train in Edo.” He pulled out some of their provisions, carrying them towards a flat boulder that sat at the water’s edge. There he spread out their food and took a seat.

Wandering back over, Okita sat on the other side so the food rest between them, happily digging in with a pleased hum. It was surprising to even himself, to find he still didn’t have the words to express was he was feeling in that moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the water. He always had found the rush of water calming.

“Figured you wouldn’t mind this place considering I kept finding you near the river in Kyo,” Ryoma replied with a smile, seemingly reading Okita’s thoughts.

“Haw? I’ve become too predictable!” Okita announced, eye wide as he glanced over at Ryoma. He couldn’t resist latching on to Ryoma’s observation. The fact that Ryoma had noticed warmed his heart but he never could turn down the opportunity to tease.

Ryoma snorted out a laugh. “I guess you have,” he replied, playing along with Okita’s game.

“No, no, can’t have that!” Okita replied loudly. He set his food down and climbed to his feet before he began to strip off his clothing one layer at a time, dropping them all at his feet.

“What are you doing?” Ryoma asked with a laugh.

“What’s it look like? Gonna go fer a swim!” Okita announced, grinning madly.

“Are you nuts, its freezing!” Ryoma actually sounded worried that time, but it just made him grin more.

“It’s not that cold,” Okita replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“The water probably is.” There was amusement in Ryoma’s eyes when Okita looked down at him.

Okita grinned as he dropped the rest of his clothes to the ground, stepping out of the pool of clothing. The last things off were his makeshift eyepatch and his hair tie, tossed on top of the pile of clothes before he neared the water’s edge, naked as the day he was born. There was a cool breeze that brushed across his skin, causing him to shudder, but he disregarded it and glanced back at Ryoma over his shoulder.

“So come warm me up,” he replied with a smirk.

Ryoma chuckled again, shaking his head. “No, I’ll just enjoy the view.” He didn’t hide the fact his eyes racked over Okita’s backside. Something that shouldn’t have sent heat through Okita’s veins, but it did. A beautiful setting and yet he had all of Ryoma’s attention.

He loved it.

“If I drown, ya better tell Shinpa-chan it’s yer fault!” Okita announced, stepping into the pool of water. He began to slowly wade in, feeling the coolness of the water prick at his skin, but he didn’t mind it.

“What? Why?”

Okita glanced back once again, smirking. The water was up to his waist now as he continued to wade forward, heading for the waterfall. “I can’t swim.”

“WHAT?!” The alarm in Ryoma’s voice was almost enough to make Okita feel guilty. Almost. “Don’t mess around like that!” Ryoma continued.

Okita winked and dove in without another word.

“OKITA!” Ryoma shouted, the sound was muffled by the water as Okita vanished beneath the surface. He would have laughed at how quick Ryoma stripped down to nothing if he hadn’t been beneath the water. It was impressive.

The muffled sound of slashing reached Okita’s ears and he watched as Ryoma dove under the surface, swimming towards him. The first captain surfaced a moment later, barely sucking in a breath before his laughter echoed loudly around the small clearing. His lungs burned, but he didn’t care.

When Ryoma surfaced in front of him, the dancing samurai immediately splashed water into Okita’s face, scowling. “You ass!”

Splashing Ryoma back, Okita snickered. “Got ya in though, didn’t I!” He grinned wickedly. “’Sides, ya love it.”

“Do I?” Ryoma moved in close, sliding his palms up Okita’s chest. Okita found himself leaning in, expecting Ryoma to kiss him. Their lips almost met before he caught the smirk a second too late. Ryoma’s hands pressed down on his shoulders, shoving him back under water.

Okita barely had a chance to suck in a breath as he was shoved back under the surface. Bubbles escaped his lips as he almost laughed. He snuck his arms around Ryoma’s waist and nipped at his stomach in retaliation, feeling the man shake with laughter before Okita dragged him down and kissed him underwater. A grin was plastered on both their faces.

Ryoma snorted though his nose, before he returned the kiss. The grins remained on their faces as they both surfaced together. 

As soon as they broke the water’s surface, Okita pulled the dancing samurai in, cupping the back of his head to pull him forward. Ryoma went willingly, arms wrapping around Okita’s slim waist, pulling him flush against him as their lips met in a proper kiss this time.

Okita was the first to break it, stepping back out of Ryoma’s grip before taking his hand. “C’mon,” he said, pulling the dancing samurai along with him towards the waterfall. “I wanna see it up close!”

Ryoma chuckled, letting Okita drag him along.

Luckily the pool never got deeper than their waists, allowing them to carefully make their way over to where the water cascaded down over the rocks and fed into the pond they stood in.

There was a tug on Okita’s hand, then he was spun into Ryoma’s arms once again and backed up under the spray. The cool water forced a gasp from his lips, but Ryoma silenced it with a searing kiss. Okita’s back pressed into the rock wall, thankfully made smooth by years of water cascading over its surface, and Ryoma crowded into Okita’s space, body pressing up against him. The water beat down around them, but neither of them cared.

Okita slid a hand down between their bodies, tracing the grooves of Ryoma’s abs lower and lower until he was stopped. Ryoma caught his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“The waters cold…” he muttered against Okita’s lips.

Okita smirked. “Then let me warm ya up.” A moment of hesitating had Okita leaning in closer, nipping at Ryoma’s ear lobe before he whispered. “I know just how big ya are, Hajime-chan, a little cold can’t change that. Let me touch ya.”

Ryoma released his grip on Okita’s wrist with a chuckle, and Okita got the hint. The first captain slipped his hand between their bodies to palm Ryoma’s half hard dick, feeling the pulse of arousal under his touch.

Nuzzling Ryoma’s neck, Okita pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just behind the ear. His tongue teased out, chasing away a drop of water before he nipped at the skin earning a gasp from Ryoma. “So good fer me, ain’t ya, Ryoma-chan?”

A groan left Ryoma’s lips and he shuddered against Okita. Whether it was the praise or the use of his real name, Okita wasn’t sure, but the reaction his words earned had sent heat straight to his core. He felt Ryoma’s hands slid up his arms, gripping onto firm biceps as he rocked himself against Okita’s palm.

“Don’t stop,” Ryoma groaned in his ear, sending another jolt of arousal to Okita’s dick.

A lecherous grin spread across Okita’s face. He could feel Ryoma growing hard under his palm. “You like the praise, don’t’cha, Ryoma-chan? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Ryoma tried to bury his face in Okita’s neck, but that was all the answer he needed to know he did. Instead, he slipped his hand between their bodies, distracting Okita by taking his erection in hand.

Okita moaned, cock immediately jumping in Ryoma’s grip. “Wait, wait…” The dancing samurai immediately froze and Okita had to bite back a whine. It was his fault after all. But he was quick to right the wrong, shifting so their cocks were pressed together and he took them in his hand, squeezing them firmly.

A breathy groan escaped Ryoma’s lips and he wrapped his hand around them too, helping Okita keep a firm grip as they began to pump them slowly. The water wasn’t as good as oil, but it was enough to speed up the pace, and they shuddered in unison.

“Good boy,” Okita teased.

Ryoma huffed and silenced him with a kiss.

A hand job shouldn’t, have felt so good, but it always did with Ryoma. Everything felt better with Ryoma. Okita was quick to lose himself to the pleasure, breaking the kiss to moan out Ryoma’s given name, shuddering at the feel of their cocks sliding together.

The water beat down on them as they stood there, foreheads pressed together, practically sharing air. Ryoma held the back of his head, keeping them close as his other hand continued moving with Okita's pumping their shafts.

Okita was torn, desperately wanting to kiss his reddened lips, swallow down Ryoma’s breathy moans or encourage more. He, himself, was loud and desperate now, pleading for Ryoma not to stop. Hips twitching, Okita gave in to his desire to thrust into their tight grip, feeling his cock drag along Ryoma’s. He moaned breathily.

It was almost obscene, their constant need to touch and feel and hold, but that had always been their love language hadn't it? Even from the start, their bodies crashing together in the heat of battle or writhing in passion at the hands of the other. Okita never stood a chance to resist the man in front of him.

Never wanted to.

“R-Ryoma,” he moaned out. He knew Ryoma liked it when he used his real name in these intimate moments. He felt it in the way Ryoma shuddered against him and heard it in the breathy gasps. Or the way his cock jumped in his hand. He groaned, Ryoma’s name falling from his lips once more. A plea, a warning. He was so close.

Ryoma kissed him, swallowing down his moans in a brief but searing kiss. “I’ve got you,” he groaned out. “Come on, let go for me.”

Okita was glad for the rock behind his back, supporting him as his knees threatened to give out. He was on fire despite the coolness of the water around him, and the feeling was building, reaching its peak. His head fell back against the rock, eye slipping shut as he gave himself over to that pleasure, thrusting into their grip. He was going to snap. “Ngh fuck, so close…”

“Don’t hold back,” Ryoma whispered in his ear, his own voice sounded strained like he was holding back. He licked and kissed and sucked his way down Okita’s neck. Each touch, each bite, each glide of his tongue over sensitive flesh was pushing Okita closer and closer until his mind was consumed with a single focus.

He couldn’t hold back any longer if he tried.

With a loud cry he reached his peak, the sound echoing in the small clearing. Ryoma’s name leaving his lips with a breathy moan of pleasure. Ecstasy flooded his body, nearly whiting out his vision as it seared through his veins, and he spilled over their hands with each pulse of his cock. The water continued to rain down above them, washing away the evidence of his release, but he moaned Ryoma’s name again as he shook, clinging on to his bicep.

Ryoma gasped, and Okita’s eye slid open in time to see Ryoma painting his stomach in white ropes, the sight alone sent another wave of heat through his body, making his cock jolt in their combined grip in a half-hearted attempt to remain hard. But Okita was spent and all he could do was groan, cursing under his breath at the jolt of arousal that shot down his spine.

Together they rode out their releases, bodies continuing to rock together until they were both spent, and the full weight of Ryoma slumped against him. Okita wrapped his arms tight around him, still trembling. His body tingling with the aftermath of release. All he could do was cling back as he slowly returned from the high of release.

A pleased hum escaped Ryoma’s lips as he dropped his head onto Okita’s shoulder. He chuckled softly, the first one to break the silence. “I guess you were right, this was a good idea.”

Okita grinned, rubbing Ryoma’s back softly. He pressed a kiss to Ryoma’s shoulder. “I’m always right.”

Ryoma snorted, nipping at Okita’s neck in retaliation. “This time, but now it’s cold.”

Snickering, Okita gave a light shove to Ryoma’s shoulder but made no move to actually let go. “I guess we better head out. Wouldn’t want Hajime-chan catchin’ a cold.”

Neither of them were quick to pull apart or do more than step out of the direct path of the waterfall. They enjoyed the warmth of each other’s arms for a bit longer, but Ryoma was once again the first to break the silence.

“Maybe we can catch a ship tonight,” Ryoma replied. “Find something that will take us the rest of the way.”

Okita hummed in agreement. A moment of apprehension formed in the pit of Okita’s stomach, a need to cling on tighter to the man before him as if he’d disappear the second he let go. And in that moment, Okita knew Ryoma was feeling it too. Of course he was, they really were on the same page. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him, to hold him tighter.

“We can do this,” Okita said, cupping Ryoma’s face in both hands. Their foreheads touched. “We’re gonna do this, together.”

A smile pulled at Ryoma’s lips then. “Yes.”

Ryoma kissed him. They had spent enough time dancing around their feelings, and Okita aimed to make sure Ryoma felt it in every kiss. Every touch. Every glance.  For however long they had left. He would make sure Ryoma felt it.

And Ryoma did the same.

Eventually, Okita began to shake, the cold finally starting to settle in his bones. Ryoma didn’t say a word, just took his hand and lead him from the pond. They dried off and got dressed in silence, shooting each other grins over shoulders. They gathered their things before setting back off on horseback. Finally heading to the next station in high spirts.

Okita didn’t know how, but he knew they were going to make it through.

Together.

Chapter Text

The sky was bright blue above them, unmarred by more than a few wispy clouds as the boat sailed on, carrying them to their next stop. It was peaceful. The gentle rock of the boat a comfort and Ryoma was grateful for the rest. It would be the last real time they would have to relax before they arrived at the castle. Ryoma tried his best to push aside the nerves and enjoy the peace of the moment as he headed for the front of the boat in search of Okita.

The first captain was leaning against the railing, staring out at the sea. He seemed to be unfazed, at least outwardly, but Ryoma knew. The man was being exceptionally broody, staring out over the water. Abnormally quiet.

“Okita.”

No response.

“Soji?”

That seemed to startle Okita out of his thoughts. His head snapped over to look as Ryoma approached his good side. “Haw?”

Ryoma came to a stop at his side, standing so close their shoulders brushed together. He glanced out over the water as Okita seemed to lean in closer to him.

“Everythin’ okay, Hajime-chan?” Okita leaned in closer still, a grin tugging at his lips. “Need a li'l distraction.”

“Heh. I should be asking you that,” Ryoma replied, turning to meet Okita’s gaze.

Okita deflated, looking back out over the waves as he slouched against Ryoma. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout what we're up against.”

“Glad you're here with me,” Ryoma said.

“As if I'd let ya have all the fun!”

Ryoma chuckled softly. “Not what I mean. I…”

“Sap,” Okita teased. He shook his head, not tearing his eyes from the water as he spoke, his voice quieter now, devoid of his normal theatrics. “I'm with ya now, Ryoma-chan. I'll follow ya anywhere.”

A smile tugged at Ryoma’s lips as warmth bloomed in his chest. He didn’t know what to say in response that Okita wouldn’t automatically deflect so he leaned forward on the railing instead, reaching over to lightly squeezed Okita’s forearm where his kimono had ridden up. The touch lingering as a comfortable silence fell between them for a while, both of them watching the turmoil of the waters below. Ryoma’s thumb brushed slowly over warm skin.

“We do need to plan better,” Ryoma finally said. “Now’s our chance.”

“Kinda thought we’d burst in, guns blazin’, swords raised!” Okita shot him a bright grin, a wild look in his eye.

Ryoma snorted, shaking his head with a smirk. “We should probably try and avoid bloodshed. I imagine it would be much easier to talk our way in.”

Okita shrugged, smirking. “We can try it yer way first, then we can do the fun way.”

Unable to keep the grin off his own face, Ryoma just shook his head, chuckling. He opened his mouth to say something when a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, do you still have that letter from Kondo?”

A moment of confusion crossed Okita’s face before his eye lit up with realization. He grinned, ruffling around in his sleeve before yanking it free. “Whatcha gonna give me fer it?”

Ryoma snorted, but he leaned to steal a kiss only to stop before their lips actually met. A smirk formed on his lips as Okita leaned in expecting the kiss, but Ryoma pulled back, plucking the letter from the first captain’s fingers.

“Oi!” Okita huffed, actually pouting which only made Ryoma snicker.

The dancing samurai spun on his heels, heading back towards the middle of the ship but he didn’t get far before Okita caught his wrist, pulling him back into his arms. Their lips met in a chaste kiss that had Ryoma smirking.

When they pulled apart again, Ryoma chuckled. “You don’t have to bribe me for that.”

Okita huffed again, but he let Ryoma go, following close behind this time. He came to a stop beside Ryoma as the dancing samurai took a seat on the deck. “Almost forgot ‘bout that letter. Whatcha think is in that?”

“Good question,” Ryoma replied, unfolding the letter. A frown formed on his face the more he skimmed over its contents. The longer he stared, the deeper his scowl got. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read at all, but this? He couldn’t read any of it aside from a few characters here and there. The handwriting was far too neat, too formal. Ryoma couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

Okita leaned down, looming over his shoulder and squinting at the parchment. “Well, Hajime-chan? Can ya read it?”

Ryoma scowled, refusing to answer that question as he glanced up at Okita.

“Maaan, I shoulda figured,” Okita replied, sounding exasperated as he stood up straight.

“It’s not that I’m illiterate—I just can’t read this handwriting,” Ryoma grumbled, feeling the need to defend himself as he glanced back down at the letter. It wasn’t like Okita was able to read it either, a thought that brought him a little comfort. “It’s too elaborate.”

“Tell me about it! I know he had t’ make it fancy for the Shogun an’ all, but still…” Okita shook his head, glancing away.

Ryoma sighed, staring over the characters, trying to make sense of them still. He didn’t like not knowing what they were about to hand the Shogun, but at least Okita was in the same boat he was.

“Hey! Buddy!” Ryoma glanced up to see Okita shouting at one of the passengers on the boat. “Can ya read this for us?”

The warrior turned to look at him. “Huh? You mean me?”

“No, the tuna behind ya! Getcher ass over here!” Okita snapped, ever the dramatics.

The man’s eyes widened. “Oh, sure…” he mumbled as he walked up to Ryoma, reaching for the letter handed to him. “Let’s see here…”

Ryoma tried not to hold his breath as they both watched. He studied the stranger’s face as he took his time looking over the letter. From concentration to surprise and disbelief, the man was an open book and it made Ryoma anxious to know more.

Okita seemed to be thinking the same thing. Ryoma could tell he was getting anxious the longer the silence stretch on between them. He was fidgeting, glancing down over the letter and back up at the man reading it. Ryoma didn't stop him from demanding to know what it said because he was on edge himself.

“Just out with it already!” Okita finally snapped.

The stranger was becoming more and more nervous, that much was clear, and Okita definitely wasn’t helping, but Ryoma did nothing to stop his fellow captain. He was just as curious and growing just as impatient by the man’s stuttering.

“Uh, well, the first sentence here says…” the man started, brows furrowing in concentration. “‘Full authority shall be restored to the Imperial Court, rightful executor of all decrees henceforth.’”

Okita seemed to echo Ryoma’s thoughts. “Wuzzat mean?”

“It’s saying the Imperial Court is supposed to be in charge again!” the man replied. “Even if it’s not real, having a letter like this could get you killed!”

The fact that they had just been carrying the letter around unknowing of its contents, had been a serious risk. It could have been exposed at any stop along their journey when they flashed their permits to travel… And the fact both of them had nearly forgotten they even had it… Sure, they were Bakufu, but would that have saved them if they were caught with this?

Ryoma shuddered to think. Their journey could have ended before they even made it to Edo.

Okita wasn’t fazed, Ryoma shouldn’t have expected any less from the man. “Ohhh. Well, don’tcha worry ‘bout that. We’re a couple o’ Bakufu boys.”

“Really!? Is that true?” The stranger looked between them, his eyes landing on Ryoma as if he didn’t trust Okita.

“It is,” Ryoma replied. He wasn’t sure they should have admitted it, but they had made it this far. “If you don’t mind, please go on.”

“Right… Then, how should I put it…” The man continued. “This is a series of requests for various ruling parties to change the power structure of the country.”

“What kind of requests?” Ryoma pressed.

“Well, first is the one I’d mentioned, for the Bakufu to give all ruling power back to the Imperial Court. Next is a list of orders for the Imperial Court to carry out after its reinstatement.”

“Tell us what they are.”

Ryoma listened as the man prattled off the lists of demands, they were steps on how to rebuild the country. He was floored at the amount of thought Kondo had poured into this, and on such short notice. It meant not only did they have Kondo’s full support on this, the chief actually believed they might be able to do something. They had the real opportunity here help shape the future of Japan, and this whole time they were carrying around the pla unknowingly.

Okita had been listening with rapt attention, eyebrows knit together in concentration. Ryoma could practically see the wheels turning in his mind when he met Ryoma’s gaze. “That mean if we add our own shit, the Shogun might actually think about doin’ it?” he asked, grinning.

It almost startled a laugh out of Ryoma, but one look at the first captain told him he was actually serious. “Well, no. It’d be the Imperial Court considering it, after getting back in power.”

“I don’t care who’s givin’ the orders! We gotta add somethin’ to this while we can!”

“What?”

“Just think of it as payment for pullin’ off this suicide mission, okay?” Okita replied. “In fact, how ‘bout, ‘Pay Shinsengumi captains enough to live it up for the rest of their lives.’”

The warrior’s eyes widened again. “Shinsengumi captains!? Hang on, that’s who you are!?”

“Yup!” Okita replied, acting intimidating again. He leaned in close. “So, you better do a good job addin’ what we tell ya. It’ll just be one teensy li’l thing.”

“But altering someone else’s letter is…”

“Heh, both the Shogun and the Imperial Court would see through us if we told them to pay us out,” Ryoma said.

“I’d have to say so as well,” the stranger agreed.

“You don’t get a say here!” Okita shot at the man before glancing back down at Ryoma with a softer look. “Fine then, what would you put in there, Hajime-chan? Not like yer getting’ another chance this sweet.”

Okita wasn’t wrong and Ryoma knew exactly what he would ask for. “What do I want from the country? I guess I’d ask for equality.”

“Huh?”

Ryoma had experienced a lot of hardship in his short life and he was sick of being treated less than human just for being part of a lower class. And it wasn't just him. What of those who weren't samurai? If he was treated poorly, he knew it was worse for them. His thoughts wandered back to his return to Tosa, before things had gotten so out of control. He recalled the poor woman beat down for simply wanting to save her child.

It made him sick.

He didn't need riches. He wanted equality for everyone. For everyone to have fair opportunities in life, and he said just that. Even Okita seemed to agree, bringing up how Hijikata and Kondo had been born peasants with their own fair share of stories to tell. It only re-affirmed what Ryoma already knew, Kondo would approve of the edition. It was the right choice.

The dancing samurai nodded, looking back at the stranger. “Listen, would you be able to add something in there that would grant people equality?”

“Uh, how would you like me to phrase it?”

“So that anyone has a chance to prove their worth, no matter what class they are. Not just samurai, either—regular citizens, women, everyone. And make it so people can’t abuse the rights of others just because they’re higher-class.”

“Wha—are you serious?” the warrior said, eyes large.

“Dammit, what now!?” Okita demanded, quick to defend Ryoma, but it didn’t seem like Ryoma needed it this time.

“That… That’s exactly the kind of Japan I’ve always dreamt of! The very same! That’s even the reason I went to Kyo—I heard a new age is being born there! But, I… I’m not much with a sword, so, here I am…” The warrior’s excitement was palpable. He knew they could trust him.

“Heh, well now your dreams come true too,” Ryoma said, “I have a feeling I can trust you to do this justice.”

“Why, yes! I’d be happy to!”

Long after the excitement had finally died down, Ryoma still couldn’t relax. He felt reinvigorated as he stared down at the fresh ink on the page. Who would have thought his journey to avenge Pops would have brought him here…? After everything he’d gone through to even get to this point, he was holding everything he’d ever hoped for Japan in his hands. In a round about way, he was about to achieve what he’d set out to do that day in Tosa. Pops would be proud.

Now they just had to see this through. They could do this, they had to.

Carefully tucking the letter away in his sleeve, he moved to sit where Okita was currently resting beside him. He sat down and Okita slump against him. The first captain was already sleep and Ryoma slowly followed, his head drooping onto Okita’s shoulder.

***

It was late morning when the boat docked at their last stop.

They were about to leave the ship when the warrior who helped them with the letter stopped them, the ferryman was at his side. “Excuse me, will you be needing a ride after you deliver that?”

The two Shinsengumi captains looked at each other before looking back at the men.  

“I spoke with the ferryman, we want to help. What you’re doing… you don’t know how much this means,” the warrior continued. “For so many of us.”

“We’ll wait here for you,” the ferryman spoke up next. “I’m sure things won’t be the most welcoming for you in Edo after, we’ll make sure you get out and get you back to Kyo safely.”

Okita and Ryoma shared another look. Ryoma was sure the surprise in Okita’s eye mirrored his own. There wasn’t even a guarantee they would make it back and yet these two strangers believed in them, believed they could do this. Ryoma was at a loss for words, and it seemed Okita was too.

Ryoma turned back to the men with a nod and a bow. “Thank you, both of you.”

Both men shook their heads and bowed back. “No, thank you for allowing us to aid you in this,” the warrior responded.

“Good luck,” the ferryman added. “The future of this country is in your hands.”

Okita was quiet again as they left the ship. They stopped quick for supplies and to rent horses to take them the rest of their journey. The castle was only a half days ride away. It would all end that night one way or another.

“We’re doin’ the right thing…” Okita finally spoke up.

“Yes, we are.”

“Then let’s go kick some ass, Hajime-chan.” The first captain grinned, hoisting himself up onto his horse.

Ryoma shook his head, grinning back as he climbed up onto his own horse.

They absolutely could do this. They had some semblance of a plan and now a way out. Ryoma was feeling far more optimistic than he had at the start, and with that knowledge, they once again set out on horseback, making their way straight for the castle.

The moon was high in the sky when they finally arrived after having raced through most of the day. There was no more time to waste. No more excuses to procrastinate. There was only one thing left to do.

Ryoma had tried his best to talk his way through the gate. At least he could say that, but in the end Okita had been right. And while his tactics were crass and excessive, Ryoma couldn’t say they weren’t effective as the canon ball blew a hole right through the gate.

The two shared a look, and Ryoma could see the excitement burning in Okita’s eye, a wide grin on his face. Ryoma just smirked, and together they drew their weapons, racing into the fight.

Together, they would make through.

Chapter Text

The recoil of firing off the canon had very near knocked Okita backwards.There was a dull ringing sound in Okita’s ears that just wouldn’t go away. His arms felt like noodles from the force of it, but he was nothing but thrilled. His blood was already pumping and the fight hadn’t even started yet. The grin hadn’t left his face as he took his place at Ryoma’s side. And the smirk he’d gotten in return from the dancing samurai himself had him feeling on top of the world. That alone had made it absolutely worth it.

Together, they headed past the crumbling gate.

The first group of guards were a piece of cake. They barely broke a sweat knocking them down one by one, moving together with such ease. Okita might have been disappointed if it weren’t for the fact he was fighting at Ryoma’s side. Nothing could beat that.

It didn’t take long for things to get more complicated. Men with guns and canons greeted them just beyond the inner doors and they were still nowhere near the main entrance to the castle.

Every shot fired off set off the ringing in Okita’s ears as they made their way across the bridge doing their best to remain in cover. Explosions and gun fire momentarily left him deaf aside from the dreaded ringing, but soon sound would warp back in, muffled before it flared louder. Clashing swords and angry shouts. Gun fire, canon fire, and the loud chime of warning bells alerting men further in.

It was chaos and Okita was having the time of his life.

Fighting at Ryoma’s side was better than fighting against him. He was used to fighting alone or alongside Nagakura. And, while they fought well together, it was nothing like this. This was a whole other level Okita never thought possible. Years had been spent trying to find someone that could match him and now he finally had.

They moved as one. Spinning and weaving and dodging around one another with such ease. Knocking down their enemies like they were nothing. He trusted Ryoma to have his back, shooting officials that got too close. And he had Ryoma’s, leaping in front of his attackers and cutting them down before they even had a chance.

Once a man had gotten too close to Okita, and Ryoma was quick to step in. He’d slammed his foot into the man’s chest, pinning him to the wall before he fired off his gun, incapacitating the man instantly. The things Okita wanted to do to Ryoma in that moment… Well… It was best to leave that train of thought for when they were finally alone.

He grinned at Ryoma instead and they took off further through the maze.

The fight before the actual entrance was the hardest yet. Large men armed to the teeth and squads of other samurai stood ready to defend the door, but they were no match for the two canons conveniently placed there. They fired on the men until they were out of range then rushed down to join the frey.

Okita struck down the last of the guards and spun to meet Ryoma’s gaze with a wild grin. There was a stormy look in Ryoma’s eyes, stoic as ever, but a small smirk pulled at his lips the second their eyes locked. He nodded towards the door. Finally, they’d reached the entrance to the castle and Okita’s grin widened.

They were attacked as soon as they burst through. A samurai leapt down, sword raised in an attempt to catch Ryoma off guard, but Okita was too quick. He slid between Ryoma and the attacker. Slashing upward with his katana. The attacker was easily deflected, stumbling backwards off balance. Ryoma stepped forward then, slamming his foot into the man's chest with enough force to send him flying into 2 other approaching men. They all toppled over, pinned beneath the one that tried to ambush them.

Ryoma shared another look with him before they charged onward, deeper into the castle before the men could recover. They dodged their way around traps set out to impale them, deflecting arrows with well-timed swipes of their swords. Soon they were fighting ninjas that had spun out from behind fake walls. It was an impressive show of force and equally impressive architecture. A labyrinth of false walls and traps if the wrong button was pressed or a wrong turn was taken, but it barely slowed them down. Not when they worked together.

After preventing themselves from being crushed to death by a false ceiling, it finally felt like they’d made it to the end only for three more men to appear. It was no surprise the Shogun had an endless number of guards to throw at them. Okita knew what he needed to do. If he didn’t hold them off, at this rate they would never make it. They were good, but this many men were designed to wear them down. Tire them out. And it only bought more time for the Shogun to ready more defenses against them.

No, there was only one thing Okita could do to make sure they made it.

“Tch, great,” Okita growled, never taking his eyes off the three new guards. “Leave these chumps to me, Hajime-chan. You’ve got a wakeup call to give the Shogun!”

“Right!” Ryoma responded, though Okita heard the hesitation in his voice. Sensed the way he lingered just behind and felt his eyes burning into Okita’s back.

Okita wished he could turn to face him, to reassure him that everything would be alright, but this had been a suicide mission from the start. There was no guarantee he would make it out of this fight alive, but he had to do this. If he had the chance to slow the men down… A chance to buy Ryoma some time… Okita would do whatever it took to see their mission through even if that meant sacrificing his own life for Ryoma’s.

“Hurry,” Okita finally said. “I’ve got this.”

The sound of Ryoma pressing forward reached Okita’s ears. There was a noise of grinding gears and Okita could only assume it was a lift carrying Ryoma off to his destination. He couldn’t dwell on that now as his attention shifted back to the men before him.

Okita bounced from foot to foot, trying to dispel and mask his nervous energy. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up, not when he wasn’t sure what Ryoma was heading into. But this was the only way to make sure the dancing samurai made it. He knew Ryoma was more than capable of handling himself.

Still, it made him anxious.

The large samurai in the middle charged before Okita had a second longer to dwell on what lie ahead. The man ran at him, sword at his side until he was within range. He swiped up, a blow that would have caught Okita across the chest if he hadn’t been so quick. Swinging down, Okita deflected the attack with ease, both hands gripping the katana to increase the force of his attack. It sent the large man staggering off course and before he had a chance to recover, Okita turned onto one leg and kicked out with the othe catching the large man im the side. The guy staggered and toppled over, momentarily disarmed and stunned.

The two smaller lackies shared a look before they dashed forward to defend their fallen leader with matching shouts of anger.

Okita ran forward to meet them, leaning backwards, he ducked beneath the swinging katana of the man on the right. Then rolled his shoulders and with a twist of his spine, dodged around and lashed out at the man on the left. The guy had left himself unguarded, sword raised in the air and allowing Okita to run him clean through the stomach before he even saw it coming.

The man staggered, shock flashing across his face. It was almost comical how time stood still, the man frozen in the moment, sword raised as if he wasn’t currently impaled. He swayed. Then took a faltering step backwards as Okita yanked his blade free. The guy collapsed in a heap on the floor.

One down, two to go.

Easy.

Okita spun toward the smaller man and darted forward, sword clutched low at his side. Lifting the blade, in one smooth movement he sliced through the air, and the man did exactly what he wanted, ducking beneath the attack. Katana now gripped in both hands on his left, Okita didn't even slow down. He leapt off the floor and stepped onto the man’s back before he could recover. In one smooth movement, he lifted his sword above his head and kicked off the man’s back with enough force to knock him clean off his feet. Okita flew through the air towards the large man with a shout. He brought his sword down through the air.

Swords clashed as the large samurai blocked his attack, sparks flying and pain radiated up Okita’s arms with the force of it, but he ignored the pain, pushing through the ache and shoving himself backwards, away from the man.

By then the smaller man had already recovered, he charged at Okita from behind, forcing the first captain to pivot on his feet. His blade arched up, knocking into the smaller man’s blade with enough force to send it flying from the guy’s hands. Drawing his foot back, he slammed it into the guy's chest. The samurai was sent flying backwards where he crashed into the nearby wall, head hitting with a loud thunk that sent him sinking to the floor unconscious.

Good.

Only one left.

The victory was short lived when the large man launched at Okita again with a cry of rage. Okita turned just in time to block another strike, their swords clashing loudly together, the sound echoing off the walls. With a cry of his own, the two men shoved apart and began to circle each other.

They moved about the room in a deadly dance trading blow for blow. The man was strong, but Okita could tell he was getting tired. Instead of pacing himself, he lashed out at Okita with heavy attacks and desperation trying to cut him down as fast as possible. He was wearing himself out quick.

Mounting anxiety was fuelling Okita. He needed to get to Ryoma. The growing anxiety was causing him to be reckless. He knew it was making him sloppy and it didn’t help that the adrenaline was starting to burn off, exhaustion slowly creeping in. He didn’t have time to keep this up. He needed to end it, now.

Lunging forward, Okita very narrowly missed a blade to the stomach. It was risky, but closing the distance between them paid off. He blocked the attack, sending the blade off course and countered before the man could recover, slicing the man clean across the chest. It wasn’t life threatening.

Yet.

A moment of shock passed over the samurai’s face. Eyes wide in horror as he looked down at the cut across his chest. Okita kicked him hard in the chest, using the pain against him to knock the guy clean off his feet until he writhed in pain, bleeding out on the floor. He stilled the second Okita stood over him, blade at his throat. Okita was panting now, glaring down at the man and practically daring him to move. The fear on the man’s face was genuine, eyes large and pleading.

“Go,” the man croaked out. “The lift is just over there.”

“Lift?”

“It’ll take you up. P-please spare me,” the samurai whimpered, and Okita scowled. There was nothing worse than a coward. And this was supposed to be the best the Shogun had to offer? It felt like an insult. 

“Get out of my sight,” Okita growled as he stepped back. “Too fuckin’ pathetic.”

The samurai very nearly pissed himself, scrambling backwards to flee, but Okita didn’t take the time to linger. He turned on his heel and rushed towards the way Ryoma had gone. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

“Hold on, Hajime-chan, I’m comin’.”

Chapter Text

The steady clunking of the lift only made the current silence worse as it carried Okita up. It was quiet. Too quiet . He could hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart hammered away in his chest. He didn’t know what he was going into and standing still was making it worse. Though the lift was moving, it seemed to stretch on forever. Rationally, he knew it was quicker than if he’d gone on foot, but it surely didn’t feel that way.

The lack of physical movement was starting to wear on him. He shifted from foot to foot trying not to think about what lay ahead. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Ryoma. No, he knew the man was more than capable. In all his years of challenging others, Okita had never met someone so strong. Well, aside from perhaps Kamo. Though, with the ease with which Ryoma had taken Okita down, he suspected the dancing samurai might have come out on top of that fight too.

The thought of Kamo left an ache in Okita’s chest he wasn’t ready to deal with. He didn’t know if he would ever be, but he couldn’t focus on that now. Not when it left his thoughts spiralling about potentially losing Ryoma too. He couldn’t lose anyone else. He needed to get to him. If only the fucking lift would—

With a final loud clunk the lift stopped, interrupting Okita’s spiralling thoughts and sending him staggering forward with the suddenness of it.

Recovering quickly, Okita bolted off the lift, running down the hallway to skid to a stop before giant doors he was sure would lead him right to the shogun. He froze then, holding his breath as he strained to hear what was going on, on the other side.

Silence.

He couldn’t hear a thing and his thoughts began to run wild, cold panic creeping in. There was no sound of clashing swords. No shouts and cries of pain. He couldn’t hear a thing and that made his anxiety grow. Was the wood too thick to let voices carry? Was Ryoma okay? Had he defeated the shogun?

Or…

No.

Okita couldn’t let himself think that way.

Slowly letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he was still holding, Okita fought down the wave of panic, hesitating there a moment longer. It was like a part of him was afraid to open that door because until he did, everything was still fine.

But Ryoma needed him.

Okita drew himself up, taking a moment to steady himself. Adrenaline was slowly giving way to exhaustion. Aches and pains were beginning to make themselves known. But he didn’t have the luxury of rest yet. He needed to stay strong for Ryoma. Tightening his grip on his katana, Okita shook the feelings off as best he could. He took a deep breath and shouldered his way into the room.

The first thing Okita saw was a wall of kneeling ninjas. They were all frozen there, not moving a muscle as they stared ahead. Still as statues. Relief washed over Okita a moment later as he followed their gaze. The sight nearly knocked the wind from his lungs once again.

Ryoma was still standing. Even more impressive was that he had the shogun at his feet. Tokugawa Yoshinobu had been defeated. Ryoma had done it and delivered Kondo’s letter. But it wasn’t over yet.

The ninjas still lurking around made Okita nervous. They could still attack at any moment. Eyeing them, he cautiously jogged by, running to be at Ryoma’s side despite the fact he still felt winded. The exhaustion of the day was really starting to catch up with him, but he fought it down.

“Hey, nice work! I’m good to go, Hajime-chan!” Okita replied, sounding breathless despite his best efforts.

“I’m nearly done here too,” Ryoma replied. He glanced over his shoulder as Okita approached.

Their eyes met. It was brief, but enough of a check in. Silent communication between them to make sure the other was okay. A small smile tugged at Ryoma’s lips and the relief Okita felt in that moment washed over him. They were okay. They had made it through an impossible task.

They survived.

Okita let out a slow breath and sheathed his katana.

By the time they looked forward again, the shogun was back on his feet reading over the letter. They listened as the shogun read the characters out loud in disbelief, but Ryoma answered him without an ounce of doubt, with unwavering conviction. Even when they had turned to leave and Tokugawa read the line they had added. It was clear he knew it was an addition, but Ryoma didn’t even flinch. He met the challenge in that question with a powerful speech of his own.

All Okita could do was stare at Ryoma in awe, pride swelling in his chest. Falling just that much more in love with the man before him. Ryoma was a rock. An unstoppable force. If anyone could change things, it would be him. And Okita would gladly follow him for the rest of his life.

Then finally, finally they turned to leave, making their way back to the lift.

Okita had about as much as he could handle. The feat that they had just pulled off hadn’t fully set in yet. They were alive. At least for now. They still needed to get out and Okita didn’t care to overstay their welcome. So, he kept his cool, at least until the lift started to move, carrying them back down. He waited until they were out of sight, holding his breath.

The second they were alone, he grabbed Ryoma by the front of his kimono, yanking him in close and kissing him breathless. Ryoma gasped but was quick to melt into the kiss. Okita could feel the smile on his lips as he kissed him back with just as much conviction. Overjoyed and buzzing with relief, Ryoma was nearly bending him backwards with the force of it, their arms tight around each other.

Okita was the first to break the kiss, grinning madly. It took far more effort to step away from Ryoma than he would care to admit. They weren’t out of the woods yet and he needed to stay vigilant. There would be time for that later.

Time they now had.

He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face if he tried.

“Alright then,” Okita said once he caught his breath. “Tell me everything.”

Ryoma grinned sheepishly, but Okita saw the pride in his eyes. He slowly began to talk, going over everything. How he arrived and the shogun was impressed by the fact he was there to save Japan. How that fact led the shogun to challenge him to a one-on-one fight. How it was a tough fight, but not too tough for Ryoma. The details of which, Okita suspected, he was being a little humble about, but he was proud of him nonetheless. In the end, Ryoma had proved himself, beating the shogun and earning his ear and respect too. Okita was just sad he had missed it.

It must have been one extraordinary fight.

However, one thing still bothered Okita. The shogun was a coward. He would have said anything in that moment to save his own skin. Would he actually follow through with the letter? Was he more afraid of the two of them in that moment or the Satcho alliance long term? Only time would tell, but Okita didn’t have much faith in the shogun.

Nevertheless, they did what they had set out to do and now all they could do was wait and see.

***

By the time they had made it back to the boat, they were both beyond exhausted. The aches and pains from battle had long since set in and they were both stiff from riding on horseback. The ferryman took one look at them and ushered them deeper into the boat where they were given food and privacy to rest.

It wasn’t much, a storage room full of crates with two futons rolled out for them and food laid out on a low table, but it didn’t matter. Okita was just relieved. They had both made it out, they survived an impossible feat and came out of it unscathed.

Well, almost unscathed.

Ryoma hissed as he lifted his arms to fight with his swords and Okita was at his side in an instant, concern on his face as he helped him remove the blades, carefully setting them aside. A tired, warm smile crossed Ryoma’s lips.

“I’m okay,” Ryoma said.

Okita was too busy trying to work open Ryoma’s clothing to hear his words. He needed to see for himself, and Ryoma seemed to understand that. He let him drop his hakama. His obi joining a moment later and then Okita was gently pushing open his kimono, eyes roaming over the newly exposed skin. Bruises ran up Ryoma’s side, violent red and spreading out over his ribs. It looked like he’d been kicked.

Gently, Okita ran his fingers over the heated skin. Ryoma hissed in pain, but didn’t stop him. He stayed quiet as Okita checked him over. Once satisfied that nothing seemed broken, Okita finally looked up, meeting Ryoma’s gaze.

“I’m okay,” Ryoma repeated, cupping Okita’s face. His thumb brushed gently over his cheekbone.

“Yer okay,” Okita whispered, leaning into the touch.

Ryoma nodded and Okita finally relaxed, sagging a bit. The action made him flinch, tugging on one of his own bruises. A motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Ryoma and then it was his turn to check Okita over, undressing him carefully until they both stood there in their under clothes.

Okita’s nagajuban was barely hanging on to his shoulders and Ryoma gently pushed it off as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Okita’s shoulder. Then his neck to his jaw. He took his time, letting his hands roam over Okita’s skin. His lips were an excellent distraction, moving alone Okita’s jawline, but he knew what the dancing samurai was doing. Checking him over, needing that physical confirmation Okita was okay.

He knew because he was doing it too.

Okita pressed himself up against Ryoma as their lips finally met. Their touches turning more heated as he let his hands roam over solid muscle, feeling Ryoma up. The dancing samurai groaned as Okita squeezed his pecs, and he slid his hands up Okita’s back, holding him close.

Exhaustion was suddenly the furthest thing from Okita’s mind.

Ryoma pressed in closer and Okita stumbled backwards, hands fisted in Ryoma’s nagajuban, refusing to let him go for even a second. Even as the breath was knocked from his lungs, pushed out his nose when his back slammed up against a stack of cargo crates. They teetered dangerously and they both paused, making sure it wouldn’t fall before sharing matching grins.

They dove back into the kiss.

Desperate hands seared their way over quickly heating skin. Fingers carefully mapped out bruises and traversed the peaks and valleys carved out by solid muscles. But it wasn’t enough to just feel Ryoma’s hands on him. He wanted—no—needed more.

“Ryoma,” Okita gasped out, a breaking the kiss. He pressed his hips forward, rocking himself against the dancing samurai. “I need you.”

“You have me,” Ryoma whispered back, groaning softly. He kissed his way down Okita’s neck.

“Inside me,” Okita pleaded.

He gasped as he felt teeth bite into his neck. It wasn’t enough to break the skin, but it would bruise. A mark left by Ryoma, it made him shudder and cling on tighter. The wet drag of a tongue soothed the bite, making him groan and sending a jolt of arousal to his quickly swelling dick.

Then Ryoma was pulling back to look at him and all he could do was let out a pathetic whine, missing the heat already.

“Here? Are you sure?”

Okita pressed forward. He reached down, slipping a hand between them to press his palm against the obvious bulge in Ryoma’s fundoshi. Rubbing the length of his erection. “Yes,” he hissed. “I need t’ feel ya. Please, Ryoma-chan.”

Ryoma let out a broken moan, surging forward again to kiss Okita’s swollen lips, abusing them further. There was no more talking after that as they striped each other bare. The last of their clothing falling to the floor around their feet as their bodies pressed together.

Okita tried to hold back the dam of feelings stirring inside him. This was about more than the sex. He needed to feel Ryoma with him. Tangible, physical proof that they really were okay. That they had really pulled off the impossible. He needed that connection and as foolish as it sounded to himself, he knew Ryoma was feeling it too. They were there in that moment. Alive and together.

They had made it.

When they broke apart again, they were both panting. Ryoma was quick to spin him around. It left his head nearly reeling, but the strength coming from his partner only made him burn hotter. He bent himself over the crate in front of him, pushing his ass out.

Ryoma was gone for barely a moment, returning with the clove oil meant to polish their weapons. But Okita didn’t care as a thick finger pressed into him, working him open. It wasn’t nearly enough and Ryoma already seemed to know that, working a second digit into him quickly.

Okita bent himself further over wooden crate, groaning and pressing himself back onto the digits inside him. He rocked his hips, far too impatient to wait much longer. The last shred of his patience snapped the second those fingers curled inside him and pleasure shot through him. He gasped Ryoma’s name, shuddering.

“Ryoma, please,” he begged, dropping his forehead onto his arms and pressing his ass back for more.

The plea had Ryoma slipping from his body, leaving him empty and desperate, but it wasn’t long before the dancing samurai was pressing into him. Okita groaned as he felt the head of his cock pressing in, relishing in the burn of being stretched open. The pace was still far too slow for how worked up Okita already was, how worked up they both were. He couldn’t resist thrusting back onto him, gasping Ryoma’s name.

Ryoma hissed, nails digging into Okita’s hips as he held them both still, letting them both adjust to the intrusion. But his own stoic patience was waning. All it took was Okita to rock himself back for Ryoma to break. He slipped nearly from Okita’s body, a pleasant drag that had pleasure swelling in Okita. Then he thrust back in hard and fast, tearing a gasp from the first captain’s lips and punching the breath from his lungs.

They were both too worked up for anything gentler than that. A desperate need to feel each other, a reminder that they were alive. That they had made it. And Ryoma seemed to be on the same page as he set the pace, fucking into Okita hard and fast.

The press of lips to his shoulder made him shudder, a loud moan drawn from Okita’s lips a second later as Ryoma bit down, sucking a mark into his skin. For all the bruises left across his body, that one set his blood on fire. A mark from the dancing samurai, claiming him.

“R-Ryoma,” he gasped out, thrusting back onto the other man’s cock. The burn of being stretched had long since melted away into pleasure. The heat and tension building inside of him making him forget all words but the name of the man inside him.

Nails dug into the wooden crates, desperately trying to find a purchase to hold onto, to ground himself as he lost himself to the ecstasy. His cock was almost painfully hard and heavy where it hung, leaking between his legs. Ryoma seemed to read his mind then too. A warm hand curled around the base of his cock practically knocking the breath from Okita’s lungs once again before he’d even properly touched him.

It was almost all too much.  

Okita knew he wasn’t going to last, but he didn’t even try and fight it. Just let Ryoma overpower him, drag the pleasure out of him. This wasn’t about taking their time. His was pure desperation, the need to be together. They would have plenty of time to take it slow later.

He gripped on to the crate before him so tight his knuckles were turning white, his thighs shaking and for a moment he was worried his legs just might give out, but Ryoma was already a step ahead of him there too. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close, supporting him.

“Let go,” Ryoma groaned out, his hot breath fanning out over Okita’s neck as he leaned in close. “I’ve got you. Cum for me, Soji.”

And that was all it took.

Okita’s vision went white. Pleasure seared through his veins as the tension built and built and built until it suddenly snapped, flooding him up with ecstasy. He spilled over Ryoma’s fingers as the dancing samurai pumped each spurt out of him. His entire body shook with it, gasping and moaning Ryoma’s name, his real name like a prayer to the gods.

He was so gone to the world he almost didn’t feel Ryoma throbbing inside of him, pumping him full of his spend as he met his own release. The broken moan of his name sent heat searing straight to Okita’s dick and it gave another feeble twitch, the pleasure wracking his body in waves.

They rode out their releases together, movements gradually slowing until Ryoma fully slumped against him, arms tight around his waist. They didn’t need to talk. Didn’t need to say a word for Okita to feel Ryoma’s affection. The post release haze settled over him pleasant and warm. And he let out a pleased hum that Ryoma echoed, arms tightening around Okita like he was afraid to let him go.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the position to get uncomfortable and they were forced to part. After they cleaned up and dragged the futons together before collapsing heavily into them. The food smelled good, but it would have to wait as the exhaustion settled into Okita’s bones. He barely had the strength left to pull up the blanket, settling down with his head on Ryoma’s chest.

“Okita,” Ryoma muttered, sounding just as tired.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Okita didn’t even hesitate. “I love ya too.”

Chapter Text

The soft rocking of the boat was a comforting lull. Ryoma was relaxed and warm beneath the blankets caught somewhere between sleep and the waking world. It was the most relaxed he’d been in a long time. He wasn’t ready to open his eyes yet. Wasn’t ready for the aches and pains the day would surely bring after the fight of their lives. It was perfect.

Well… almost…

A hand flopped out of the warm cocoon of blankets onto the bedding next to him only to find it empty and cool. Okita wasn’t beside him and that thought finally forced him to crack an eye.

A soft chuckle drew Ryoma’s attention to the foot of the futon where Okita sat, leaning heavily against the low table where the food from the night before had been. Luckily for them, it was all preserved food. Nothing that could have gone bad in however long they’d been asleep for, but Ryoma’s attention wasn’t on that now as he looked over Okita.

The first captain looked dishevelled like he hadn’t been up long either. Strands of hair had slipped from the tie he hadn’t taken out, falling more around his face. He hadn’t bothered with clothes, or modesty at all for that matter. A blanket was thrown precariously across his lap, barely covering him. It looked like one quick move away from slipping off, not that Ryoma was complaining.

It was a stunning view.

Ryoma relaxed then. Blankets slipped from his body as he stretched himself out with a groan, arching up off the futon. Sore, he was definitely sore. He collapsed back in a heap. A small smile pulled at his lips when he caught Okita eyeing him, and he reached out, fingers curling loosely around Okita’s ankle, the only thing he could reach.

“Mornin’,” Okita mumbled.

A hum left Ryoma’s lips in response. Words were still too hard.

Okita reached down, taking the hand around his ankle in an attempt to pull Ryoma up, but Ryoma had other plans. Their fingers slipped together and he pulled, dragging the first captain back down on top of him before promptly rolling over, pinning Okita back down on the futon. The first captain’s gasp turned into a gleeful laugh as Ryoma buried them back beneath the blanket and rest his head on Okita’s chest.

“So lazy, Ryoma-chan,” Okita said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Ryoma hummed again, stretching out on Okita as fingers slipped into his messy hair. He hadn’t taken his bun out before they passed out, but it had grown loose, was barely holding on.

“We earned it.”

“Gonna sleep the whole way back?”

“Why not?”

Okita chuckled and Ryoma felt the reverberations through his chest. “I can think of a few ways to entertain ourselves.”

Ryoma smirked, tilting his head to press a kiss to Okita’s chest. “Oh?”

“Mhmm,” Okita replied as Ryoma kissed up his chest. He rolled his head to the side, exposing his neck for Ryoma’s wandering lips.

“I think I can be persuaded into waking up,” Ryoma replied against Okita’s neck. He pressed a kiss below the man’s ear, nuzzling into the warm skin before he nipped at it causing Okita’s breath to hitch.

A softer laugh escaped Okita’s lips, quieter but no less gleeful. He slipped a leg around Ryoma’s hip, arching himself up against him. A hand slipped down Ryoma’s bare back, coming to rest on the curve of his lower back. “Now yer gettin’ it.”

Ryoma’s tongue teased out over the sensitive flesh, tasting salty skin before he nipped at the spot once again, rougher this time, drawing a groan from Okita’s lips. He sucked at the spot, not enough to leave a mark, but he felt the first captain shiver in response. “Insatiable.”

Nails scratched lightly over Ryoma’s scalp as Okita held him closer. “Don’t hear ya complanin’.”

A smirk tugged at the dancing samurai’s lips and he lifted his head. “Shut up,” he whispered. Okita’s grin matched his own before their lips met in a hungry kiss. Their tongues met briefly as Okita greedily licked into his mouth, but Ryoma didn’t stay their long.

Breaking the kiss, Ryoma ducked down and kissed the centre of Okita’s chest before mouthing his way over to his left nipple. His tongue and teeth teased at the nub before he sucked on the sensitive flesh, feeling it pebble beneath his tongue.

Okita moaned, arching up into the contact, his hand tightened in Ryoma’s hair as if trying to hold him there, but Ryoma soon moved over to the neglected nipple, treating it just the same. He felt Okita trembling beneath him, his strong body already writhing beneath him. The power he had over Okita in that moment sent heat surging south.

“Ryoma,” Okita breathed out. Ryoma would never get sick of hearing him moan his real name. After spending a year as another man, it felt good to have it out in the open, no barriers between them.

Another moan escaped Okita’s lips as Ryoma began kissing down over his abs, tongue teasing between the grooves of writhing muscle, lavishing them in attention as Okita began to squirm. Impatient fingers pressed on Ryoma’s head, trying to get his attention where it was needed most, but Ryoma ignored him, mouthing his way down a muscular thigh. He kissed his way back up before pausing to suck a mark into the soft, sensitive flesh of his inner thigh. Tongue and teeth teasing then new bruise before he pulled back to admire his work. A small, reddened mark had formed in the skin and he pressed a kiss to it, grinning wolfishly as Okita lifted his hips again.

Okita moaned loudly. “Fuck, touch me!”

Ryoma hummed in response, licking a trail up Okita’s thigh, stopping just before his half hard dick, smirking as it twitched.

The fingers in his hair tightened again, the slight pain of having his hair pulled only made him burn hotter. It sent heat surging to his dick and he shivered, his breath hitching. Okita’s desperation was always such a turn on.

He decided in that moment to take pity on the other man. Curling a hand around the base of Okita’s dick, he went down on him, taking his semi-hard cock into his mouth. He heard Okita's breath catch. Felt the fingers in his hair flex as Ryoma began to bob his head. He worked the sensitive flesh with his tongue, cheeks hollowing as he sucked around him. Groaning as he felt Okita grow fully erect against his tongue.

The first Captain was already panting and writhing beneath him. The fingers in his hair quickly knocked Ryoma’s messy bun even further out of its tie. Strands fell down around his face as those fingers were pushing and pulling at his head. Silent, desperate commands for more that he was more than happy to obey.

But first...

Letting Okita slip from his lips with a pop, Ryoma left a wet trail of kisses down the shaft, occasionally pausing to suck at the sensitive skin. Only stopping when his face was nuzzled in at the base. He pulled away a moment later, running his tongue flat up the shaft only to press a kiss to the tip.

"Guess I was planning on sleeping though," Ryoma teased, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as Okita practically growled in frustration.

Okita pushed his hips up impatiently, letting his cock slide against Ryoma's cheek. The sight must have been what made Okita visibly shudder before he dropped his head back, letting out a shaky breath. "Ryoma... Fuck..."

Ryoma’s grin widened. The note of desperation in Okita's voice send heat straight to his core and he felt his own cock throb trapped between his stomach and the futon below. The demanding way the other man said his name was too much and he rocked himself against the futon with a soft groan. Desperate for his own bit of friction.

The breath was practically punched from Okita’s lungs a moment later when Ryoma took pity on him once again, swallowing his cock.

Ryoma pinned Okita’s hips down as he bobbed his head quicker now. Vulgar sounds escaping his lips as he swallowed him down again and again. His jaw ached, his throat burned, and drool was escaping the corner of his mouth, but he was loving every second of it. Every gasp, every moan, every whine of his name that he drew from Okita’s lips. The way his thighs quaked, hips shifting restlessly under Ryoma’s grip in a feeble attempt to chase after the warm heat of Ryoma’s mouth.

Fingers tugged and pulled at his hair in a desperate attempt to speed him up, to control the movement and Ryoma gave it to him. He could tell he was getting close, thighs trembling around his head.

“’m gonna…” Okita groaned out, back arching of the bed. “Gonna cum.”

Ryoma hummed encouragingly around him, swallowing down his cock in a greedy attempt to fit him down his throat. Until his nose was pressed into the wiry curls at the base, effectively cutting off his air flow. He could feel Okita throb, cock pulsing in his throat as his body grew tense

There was no turning back now.

With a cry of pleasure, Okita tipped over the edge, moaning Ryoma’s name as he spilled down his throat. His thighs clenching around Ryoma’s head, fingers tugging at his hair as he trembled through it. There was nowhere else Ryoma would rather be than crushed between those powerful thighs. He greedily swallowed down all Okita had to offer, holding still as the first captain rode out his release.

Once Okita was spent, his thighs relaxed as he melted back against the futon. Fingers slipped from Ryoma’s hair as he completely went limp. Ryoma took that as his cue, pulling off Okita’s dick with a pop.

Wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, he glanced up at Okita through heavily lidded eyes.

The first captain had collapsed in a heap on the futon, an arm thrown over his face and chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. He looked perfectly debauched, spread before him. The sight made him throb, reminding him of his own need.

Ryoma couldn’t ignore himself any longer. Shifting so he lay on his side, he buried his face in Okita’s thigh as he slipped a hand down between his own thighs, taking his aching cock in hand with a groan.

“Look at ya. So hard just from takin’ care of me,” Okita practically purred.

The dancing samurai looked up to see him watching him touch himself. The hunger in Okita’s eyes made him throb, and he picked up the pace. His movements eased by the pre-cum leaking from his cock. “Soji,” he groaned.

“Come up here n’ let me touch ya.”

Ryoma shuddered. “Not going to last.”

“Good.”

It took little effort for Ryoma to scramble up to Okita’s side. The loud moan he let out when the other touched him would have been embarrassing if he wasn’t so far gone. Ryoma was quick to pull Okita into a hungry kiss. His moans muffled against Okita’s lips as he licked into Ryoma’s mouth.

It didn’t take long at all for Ryoma to reach the edge, already so far gone just from taking care of Okita, and the first captain seemed to already know how close he was just from the way he trembled.

Breaking the kiss, Okita half rolled himself onto Ryoma, pinning his torso down onto the bedding. He released Ryoma’s cock long enough to lick his palm before taking him in hand once again. The saliva aided in his quick movements as Ryoma pulsed in his grip.

“S-Soji,” Ryoma groaned, tipping his head back. He clung on to Okita’s arm and the back of his neck as if afraid to let him go. He thrust up into Okita’s hand, desperately chasing after his own pleasure. He tried to hold Okita’s gaze, but it was getting too much. He was so close.

So close…

“That’s it, Ryoma-chan,” Okita purred. “Don’t hold back.”

Ryoma couldn’t if he tried. His head tipped back, body going stiff as he felt the tension snap. Pleasure flooded through him as he spilled messily over Okita’s fingers and his own torso. He moaned Okita’s name, body trembling as he tried to keep up the movements, thrusting into Okita’s firm grip. His eyes slipped shut as his vision whited out and he was helpless to do little more than ride out the throes of pleasure in Okita’s arms.

Their movements gradually slowed before Ryoma went boneless. A warm bliss settled over him as he slowly came down from the high of release. It took a while for his thoughts to come back to him, long enough to realize he was still clinging on to Okita. Not that the first captain seemed to mind as he mumbled soft praise into the sensitive skin of Ryoma’s neck, slowly kissing his way up to Ryoma’s ear.

Ryoma let out a pleased hum, turning his head to meet Okita’s lips as the other finally released his spent cock.

They lay there for a while after that, sharing soft kisses and almost dozing off in each other’s arms. But soon it became too uncomfortable to lie down any longer and they eventually got up to get themselves cleaned up. Ryoma was more than grateful to find a basin of water left there so they could wash up, and they took their time to clean each other in relative silence before finally settling down at the table to eat.

The trip back to Kyo was a peaceful one.

One with no sword hanging over their heads. It allowed them time to recover, just the two of them. A peaceful journey where they could be themselves before they had to go back to pretending they weren’t as close as they were. Their relationship may be frowned upon in the Shinsengumi, but this time they were going back stronger. On the same page.

Whatever they were about to face, they would do it together.

Unfortunately, that peaceful bubble couldn’t last forever. It burst the second their boat rounded the bend, and the city came into view. Large plumes of smoke were wafting up into the sky and the cries of people could be heard before they even reached the shore.

Kyo was on fire.

Chapter Text

The smell of smoke was still heavy in the air long after the fires had been put out. Although the charred remains of buildings were still smouldering, there was no risk for fire reigniting with how damp the wood now was. Even so, locals stood nearby with buckets ready to jump in if needed.

It was a sombre morning in Kyo as Ryoma stepped off the boat having gone to check on Haruka. Kyo was quiet, too quiet, even as people slowly returned to fill the streets.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around all that had happened in such a short time. Yesterday he was on top of the world. Together with Okita, he’d accomplished so much. Not to mention the relationship he’d solidified with the first captain while on that trip. It had been surreal. One of the brighter moments in his life. A moment where he felt like he could accomplish anything.

And now?

Now he wasn’t sure he could face Okita.

Ryoma thought he should have been used to it by now, how so much could change in the blink of an eye. One minute things were looking up. His dream of making Tosa better for everyone that lived there had seemed so within reach after all he’d been through. Even better, the opportunity for that change had grown to encompass the whole of Japan. He felt like he was finally doing something good, something his Pops would be proud of. Only for that blissful bubble to pop the second he arrived back in Kyo. His actions had only condemned the city to the fiery fate he'd tried so hard to prevent.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the fire lighting up the night sky. Feel the heat of the flames licking at his skin as he tore through the streets trying to save who he could on his way to find Kondo. The screams of those trapped inside buildings or running for their lives still assaulted his ears.

Now seeing the charred remains of the once bustling market in Fushimi filled him with guilt. People were out trying to clean what they could, picking through the remains to see what was left of their stalls or recover what wasn’t looted by Harada and his men. A lot would need to be rebuilt before it was safe to use again, but it could have been a lot worse.

Ryoma carried on through the streets, making his way toward the barracks. He felt like he was outside his body in that moment, numb and still reeling with the events of the previous night. He hadn’t been able to face the Shinsengumi after that. Or Okita. So he’d fled to the farm to try and gather his thoughts.

So much damage and death had occurred, Kyo had been ravaged. They had arrived in time to help as best they could, but two men had still died in Ryoma’s arms the night before while the fires raged.

Kondo and Izo…

If Ryoma had just been faster… If they had just returned sooner… Maybe they could have saved Kondo. Tried as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like it was all his fault. The fire, Kondo’s death. Even Gen-san’s because of his desire for revenge forcing the hand of the man he’d once called brother. He’d caused this thinking he could change Japan when he couldn’t even see what was right in front of his face.

And Izo…

Izo was not a man Ryoma had ever thought he would feel some way for. The man had caused a lot of harm and took the lives of so many innocent people. Not to mention how much of a thorn he’d been in Ryoma’s side before he’d even left Tosa. However, in the end he was doing it for the man Ryoma once thought he’d do anything for too. Izo had been trying to save Takechi from himself and now that burden fell solely on Ryoma.

Deep down he had known that Takechi was behind it all. He knew the second he saw that scar on the man’s back at Teradaya Inn that fateful night, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. They had grown up together. They were brothers in all ways but blood. How could Takechi betray him? Betray everything they stood for?

How could Takechi kill the man that had raised them?

It should have been a relief that Takechi was in fact alive, but instead he felt sick to his stomach. Ryoma had been so blinded by his belief that Takechi wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t betray him, and now so many innocent people were dead.

Everything was fault and now he was the only one that could fix it. He had to.

Quietly, Ryoma made his way up the steps to the Shinsengumi barracks. His blue haori folded in his hands as he carried it up. It was funny he’d been so proud to be a part of them. Even if it had all started out as a lie, he felt like he was doing good. For a while anyway. Now he couldn’t even bare to face the men he’d fight alongside as he prepared to leave the garments and disappear.

He had to make things right. Had to protect the people that still mattered to him. Okita would be upset, but Ryoma couldn’t bare the thought of anyone else getting hurt because of him.

He just hoped Okita would forgive him eventually.

Gently, Ryoma set the folded garment down before the gate. Kondo’s letter was carefully placed on top for Hijikata to find. He stepped back, bowing respectfully, before he turned to leave only to find his way blocked.

Ryoma froze as Hijikata, Okita, and Nagakura approached him.

None of the men seemed surprised. Least of all, Hijikata, who calmly explained that he now knew everything. He knew who Ryoma truly was. Okita had been the one to tell him, but it was too late now. He’d messed things up for them. He’d gotten their chief killed. The best thing for all of them was for Ryoma to disappear. His mind was made up.

So, he pressed on.

Ryoma walked towards the stairs only for Okita to be the one to try and stop him.

“You runnin' off, Hajime-chan?”

Ryoma paused. “Running off?”

“You heard me... Ya got no reason to stay in the Shinsengumi anymore, sure,” Okita continued. Ryoma could hear the anger in his voice, the hurt too. “But leavin' your allies behind and thinkin' ya can solve things yourself? Sounds like runnin' off to me.”

Ryoma flinched, unable to look back at the man he’d grown to love. Okita didn’t give him the chance to look away as he walked in front of Ryoma. Their eyes met and guilt shot Ryoma right in the heart. He could see the hurt clear as day in Okita’s eye despite his angry scowl.

“Bein' a lone wolf sounds a lot cooler, I'll give ya that... But it ain't gonna do ya any good,” Okita carried on. “If you're bringin' the fight, ya gotta bring backup.”

Deep down Ryoma knew that was probably true. He knew how well they worked together. But he had been nothing but a blight on their lives. He couldn’t bare the thought of anymore people getting hurt because of him. Especially not Okita. He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke again.

“And why's that?”

Okita didn’t back down. “When a man's got somethin' important to do, he's gotta have someone keep an eye out.”

Nagakura joined in too as he moved to stand before Ryoma. “Someone to fight, think, laugh, and cry with... Sharin' the moment means sharin' the truth. That's how history's made. It's why Chief Kondo, even at his last breath, never tossed the Shinsengumi aside.”

He’d lied to them for so long and here they both were trying to get him to stay. Ryoma was touched, but it hurt just as much.

“Well, I've caused the Shinsengumi enough trouble as it is... From now on, this is Sakamoto Ryoma's fight and his alone,” Ryoma insisted and the whole time Okita couldn’t look at him. The first captain stared at the ground until his last words.

There was pain in Okita’s eye now as his gaze shot back up to meet Ryoma’s. “Don't gimme that,” he growled, desperation in his voice. “So, what if it's one man's fight? The Shinsengumi got more than enough reason to join in.”

“Okita...”

Ryoma didn’t know why he hadn’t expected this. He should have known the other wouldn’t let him go without a fight. He supposed that was why he had tried to sneak off before they could stop him.

He felt the emotions in him welling up inside himself. The affection he felt for Okita. The fact that even Nagakura cared.

Okita looked at Nagakura for support. “Ain't that right, Shinpachi?”

Nagakura nodded. “Yeah. It's what livin' alongside the Chief was all about.”

After all he had done to destroy what they had built…

“Nagakura...”

Hijikata was next as he approached them. Ryoma’s haori was in his hands now, the letter still placed precariously on top.

“Hijikata...”

Hijikata held out his haori as he spoke. “What's more, Sakamoto-san, Saito Hajime still has more unfinished business with us.”

They still wanted him there after all he had done. They were all willing to join his fight. His own brother couldn’t trust him. Went out of his way to betray him, but here were these three men that had every right to be mad at him, pleading with him to stay. Willing to fight at his side. Ryoma was overcome with emotion at that moment and it took all his will power to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Business? Kondo told me his final move was in there...”

“So, Kondo Isami lives on, even after death, hm?” Hijikata said, looking down at the letter with a small smile.

When the deputy chief finally glanced back up, he looked between Okita and Ryoma. “Well, then… I suppose we have some planning to do. However, I think you two might want a minute alone?” he said, a knowing smirk pulling at his lips. “After that, join me and Nagakura-san, we have a lot to discuss.”

Ryoma waited for the two men to leave before he looked up at Okita, finding himself unable to quite read his expression. He opened his mouth to say something, but Okita just nodded his head toward the path that followed alongside the wall of the barracks. He turned on his heel and began to walk without waiting for a reply.

Ryoma swallowed down the nervous lump in his throat and followed alongside him.

After the passionate speech he’d given Ryoma to get him to stay, the silence now was deafening. It weighed on Ryoma. Soon the path gave way to forest, and still they walked on at a slow pace. The silence only growing louder and Ryoma struggled to find the words to make things better. After everything they had been through, he’d been caught red handed about to slip away without a word.

“Soji…”

“Not even a goodbye?”

“I…”

Okita shook his head. “I know I did the same. Just thought… after everything, we… you… Did I mean that little t’ ya?”

Ryoma stopped then and grabbed Okita’s arm to get him to look at him. “You mean everything to me.”

“Then why?”

A heavy sigh left Ryoma’s lips. His gaze fell to the forest floor, fixating on a twig that protruded from the leaves. “I just didn’t want any more people to get hurt because of me. Especially not you…”

Okita snorted. “After everything we’ve been through, ya still don’t think I’m capable?”

“That’s not it. What we did is different.”

“How?”

Ryoma struggled to find the words to explain himself. All the excuses he’d built up in his head over night suddenly seemed silly. They had done the impossible together and lived. Of course, he knew Okita was capable. More than capable. He just didn’t trust Takechi and the thought of him killing another person Ryoma loved…

Okita must have noticed the pained look Ryoma knew was written across his face because he sighed heavily. “Alright, then,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning heavily back against a tree. “Tell me everything that happened after we parted last night.”

And so, Ryoma did.

He spoke of everything he’d done after they split up last night. Of Harada’s deserved demise. Of Kondo and Izo’s death. He spoke of how all of it had been because of his sworn brother. Even Gen-san’s death was because of him. He spoke of his own guilt and his need to right the wrongs his blindness caused.

And Okita just listened.

He didn’t judge him or interrupt. Just let him talk. By the end of it, Okita had reached out and pulled Ryoma into his arms. For all his talk about strength, Okita didn’t judge him once while Ryoma worried he sounded weak. He just quietly held him and listened to everything he had to say.

It wasn’t until Ryoma finally fell silent, that Okita spoke up.

“It’s horse shit, y’know. That brother of yers, he made his own choices. Ya can’t control him like he couldn’t stop ya.”

“Okita…”

“I don’t blame ya for anythin’ and you shouldn’t blame yerself either,” Okita finished, hugging him tightly.

Ryoma didn’t know what to say as warmth bloomed in his chest. All he could do was hold on tighter and kiss Okita, hoping that was enough to convey how grateful he felt in that moment. “I’m sorry,” he said once they pulled apart, “I should have just come to you from the start.”

“Yeah, ya shoulda. We’re in this together,” Okita replied. A smirk pulled at his lips. “But ya can make it up t’ me later.”

That brought a laugh out of Ryoma and he shook his head. “Insatiable!”

“What! I meant dinner!”

“Uh huh.”

Okita grinned. “Unless yer offerin’.” He winked, or at least Ryoma assumed he did.

Ryoma laughed, pushing Okita’s face away as he leaned in for another kiss. “I’ll buy you dinner, but I think we better get back to Hijikata.”

“Nope! Now I want lunch!” Okita announced, taking Ryoma’s hand and dragging him back through the forest before the dancing samurai could argue. Instead, he just laughed, squeezing Okita’s hand as he followed along feeling much lighter than the start of the day.

He would stop Takechi, but he didn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter Text

It had been a long day.

A long day in a sea of endless long days. Ryoma felt like there was no end in sight at this rate. He was just grateful Hijikata, Okita, and Nagakura were on his side. He’d been so sure he was going to have to go at it alone after all the problems he had caused them from the very start, but the three men were steadfast in their determination to help. Ryoma couldn’t be more grateful.

In fact, the afternoon had been spent discussing plans for the coming day. After Okita had dragged him off for lunch, the other two had decided to join them. Hijikata had wanted to talk. So, they had left the barracks together in order to converse in private over lunch. There were still questions on who they could trust, and Hijikata hadn’t wanted to be overhead. As it turned out, the deputy chief was certain Ito was behind everything. The problem was they weren’t sure who else was with him. So, they had sat down to plot their next steps over lunch which had extended into the early evening.

The next morning there would be a captain’s meeting to discuss all that had transpired. The other remaining captains would be notified that night. There they would set their bait. Hijikata intended to declare Ryoma the next chief without notifying the rest of Kondo’s fate. The hope was that Ito would confess, accidentally letting slip he knew and from there they could fish out who else was on his side.

It was a good plan. And with that set in motion, there was nothing left to do, but wait. They all slipped out of the izakaya separately to avoid detection as best they could.

Well, except for Okita who had glued himself to Ryoma’s side all day. Ryoma couldn’t blame him either. Not after he’d tried to leave without a word. He still felt guilty for that himself. So, they strolled out of the izakaya together, unconcerned. They had been spending so much time together lately, it really wouldn’t have been suspicious anyway.

Okita caught Ryoma’s arm, stopping him before he could get far.

Ryoma turned to face him, a question on his tongue, but before he could ask it, Okita was stepping into his space.

“Ryoma-chan,” Okita whispered into his ear, his hand holding onto Ryoma’s bicep like he was afraid Ryoma would vanish if he let him go. “Come see me at my room in Gion in a bit, okay?”

The dancing samurai was confused, turning his head too look at him quizzically. “Wha—”

“No questions. Just come to my room later,” Okita replied. He lightly squeezed Ryoma’s bicep, looking him in the eye now.

“But—” Ryoma searched his face trying to find answers. It was strange that, after being glued to Ryoma’s side all day, he suddenly wanted to run off now.

“I have t’ take care of somethin’, but I want t’ show ya somethin’ after,” Okita replied reassuringly.

Ryoma wanted to protest, but curiosity won out. “Okay.”

The first captain grinned brightly. “Don’t keep a lady watin’.”

Lady?

Okita was already backing up, keeping his eyes on Ryoma until he nodded in agreement. With another grin, the bloody samurai spun and hurried off towards Gion leaving Ryoma looking after him in confusion.

Shaking his head, a small smile playing across his face, he turned and walked off in search of something to do while he waited.

***

Evening had fallen by the time Ryoma had stepped into Gion. Paper lanterns lit up the streets, beckoning him in with warm light as he headed towards Okita’s room.

It was a wonder that Gion had been untouched by the fires. Though Ryoma supposed that was on purpose. He was certain they had wanted him to find Kondo. They couldn’t have everything going up in flames before that had happened.

The mere thought of Kondo was almost enough to make Ryoma turn around and flee. The image of the chief dying in his arms still haunted him, filling him with an immense guilt for his death. If he’d only been faster…

No.

If only he had admitted to himself who the other Ryoma was sooner. He knew in his heart who it was the second he’d seen that scar on the back of the man fleeing Teradaya. Maybe then Kondo would still be alive.

Maybe they wouldn’t still be in his mess…

Ryoma hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking until a drunk man grunted, brushing past him. It was enough to startle him out of his thoughts and the dark spiral he was heading down. The guilt was starting to fester.

Shaking it off, he carried on, slipping into the building where Okita was staying. There was no point dwelling on the past now. He still couldn’t quite lose the bad mood and guilt, but the idea of spending time with Okita did help.

He made his way down the winding hallway until he reached the room. “Soji, can I come in?”

“Yes.”

The answering voice was familiar, but much higher pitched than usual. It gave Ryoma pause, but he quickly pushed aside his confusion and slipped into the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Only when he looked up, it wasn’t Okita standing there.

A woman in an elegant kimono stood with her back to him. Her black hair was tied up in the nihongami style, but it was much more complex than a typical style. Golden pins and various accessories made it to resemble a butterfly. Ryoma was quick to notice something seemed so familiar about it. The golden flowers that decorated the bun reminded him of that wig he’d see on Okita’s dresser what felt like ages ago. She wore a stunning black kimono with pink and white cherry blossoms spreading up from the bottom and beautiful golden embroidery. The obi that held it all together was golden as well, matching the kanzashi in her hair.

Ryoma couldn’t help but stare in awe before his mind finally caught up with him and he snapped out of it. “Oh, I’m sorry miss. I was looking for—”

A familiar giggle interrupted his thoughts and she turned. A golden fan painted with a cherry blossom tree blowing in the wind was blocking her mouth, but the second he looked into her singular eye, he knew who it was immediately.

“Soji?”

Okita’s face was painted up in typical make up, at least what was currently visible, but Ryoma knew if that fan wasn’t in then way, those already dark lips would be vibrant red. The tsuba Okita normally wore was currently decorated with pink plum blossoms.

Another giggle left her lips. “Is that anyway to greet a lady?”

“I…” Ryoma was speechless, his eyes roaming over her once again.

She must have mistaken his loss of words as discomfort because she suddenly hesitated. The guise slipped for a moment, and it was Okita talking then in his regular voice. “Unless ya want me t’ change, Hajime-chan?”

“No!”  the word left his lips before she could even finish speaking.

Ryoma surged forward, closing the distance between them and reaching for her. His eyes were full of awe and he watched as she visibly relaxed, lowering the fan so he could see her vibrant red smile. “What… what shall I call you then?”

Her smile grew then, eye lighting up. “Goromi.”

“Goromi,” he whispered.

“You were havin’ such a hard time, Hajime-chan,” she said flirtatiously. “I wanted t’ show ya what Soji-kun does when he needs a break too.”

“Onnagata?” Ryoma was infatuated, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close. “You’re beautiful, Goromi.”

She smiled again. Snapping the fan shut, she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. “Yeah, helps me get around unnoticed and…” She paused, looking away like she was considering her next words carefully. When she spoke again, she did so quietly. “I get t’ hold on t’ a piece of my old self.”

“Goro,” Ryoma replied.

“Yes, but... It’s more than that,” she said. “It’s… It’s another side of me.”

Ryoma smiled, his worries suddenly the furthest thing from his mind in that moment. He couldn’t help falling just that more in love with his partner. The fact Okita would share this side with him, that Okita trusted him enough to be vulnerable. It warmed his heart.

“And I love all of you,” Ryoma whispered.

She brightened up then, leaning in close. “Thanks,” she said softly. “For not thinkin’ I’m weird.”

“Oh, you are, but not for this,” Ryoma teased, and Goromi threw her head back with laugher, smacking his chest.

“Cruel!” she replied, but there was no bite behind it. The smile was still stuck on her face.

“So, were you the woman that got caught sneaking into the barracks then?” Ryoma couldn’t resist asking. “The one rumoured to not be seen again?”

“Haw?”

“I overheard some men talking when I first went to the Shinsengumi. Said they saw a woman sneaking in, but she was never seen again.”

Goromi looked confused for a moment before she burst out laughing, sounding more like Okita than Goromi.

Oh, Ryoma was absolutely smitten.

“I guess so,” Goromi replied once she finally settled down. “Though enough ‘bout little ol’ me. I asked ya here t’ cheer ya up.”

Ryoma smiled, his arms tightening around her. It was amazing how quick he was to have left his worries at the door the second he saw her. “You did, huh?”

“I did so sit!” She pushed him toward the low table where cushions were set up. He let her push him down but was quick to drag her down into his lap before she could get far making her giggle once again. “Let me get drinks!”

“I have all I need right here,” Ryoma replied, hugging her tightly which only made her laugh harder, sounding much closer to Okita’s laugh. He leaned in, kissing up her neck.

“I promised t’ take care of ya. Can’t do that if ya won’t let me go,” she replied, giggling again. She made no move to pull away, tilting her head to give Ryoma’s wandering lips more access to her throat.

“I beg to differ.” He smirked.

“Beast!”

“You love it.”

“Maybe.”

“Kiss me then?” Ryoma sat up, his eyes falling to her red lips.

“Anything for you.”

Ryoma couldn’t help but hold her tighter to him as their lips met. He slipped a hand up to cup the back of her head, holding her close. She tasted of tea and tobacco, and he briefly pictured those red lips wrapped around a kiseru pipe, looking regal as she smoked.

Then he shivered picturing something else entirely that sent a jolt of arousal straight to his dick.

Goromi smirked against his lips as if she could read his mind. She pulled back, breaking the kiss, but Ryoma chased after her lips until she rested a hand against his chest to hold him back, grinning wickedly.

“I’m supposed t’ be takin’ care of ya,” she said, hand splayed out on his exposed chest. “And… I may have gotten myself ready in other ways.”

It took Ryoma a moment to process what she was saying, but the image of her fingering herself open, preparing herself for him… Ryoma groaned and dove in for another kiss as desire burned through him.

She chuckled against his lips and shifted so she was straddling him. Her kimono slipped over one of her legs and Ryoma couldn’t resist running his hand up the milky skin, squeezing her thigh. She shifted again and took his hand off her thigh before, dragging it between her legs. Ryoma’s breath caught in his throat the second he felt warm skin. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

His fingers brushed over her half hard dick, teasing before he took her in hand, stroking her in a firm grip.

She groaned, hips rocking. “I-I’ve never done this… while…” she whispered against his lips.

The heat that surged through Ryoma then made him shudder with desire. She trusted him. Trusted him with this part of her and he would cherish that forever.

“I want…” She groaned as he continued to touch her. “I want t’ ride ya. Thought about it as I—ngh as I got ready.”

Ryoma moaned, his lips back on her throat, smearing her makeup. He knew he probably looked like a mess just from kissing her alone, but he didn’t care in that moment. All that mattered was her. “Yes,” he groaned out.

They separated hastily after that. Putting just enough space between them to get Ryoma’s clothes open and out of the way enough to free his already hard dick. Neither of them were patient enough to get undressed fully. It didn’t matter anyway as she took his hard cock in hand.

“So hard already, Ryoma-chan,” she purred, lubing him up with oil he hadn’t even noticed was on the table until that moment.

“All for you,” he groaned, holding onto her waist, fingers tightening in the fine fabric of her kimono.

She groaned, wasting no more time after that. She shifted, lifting herself up and guiding him between her legs before sinking down on his cock with a breathy groan. Her eye fluttered shut, head tipping back. Goromi didn’t stop until he was fully buried inside her and she was seated in his lap.

He moaned as her tight walls sucked him in. He slid his hands down her thighs, kneading them as he fought to hold still, letting them both adjust. Leaning in, he kissed and licked his way up her neck, feeling her tremble in his arms.

Fingers slipped into Ryoma’s hair, her free hand resting on his shoulder as she started to move, hips rocking down onto him. A soft groan escaped from her painted lips as she lifted herself nearly off him only to sink back down with a blissful sigh.

Ryoma’s hands rested on her clothed hips, head tipping back to look at her with such raw emotion in his eyes. This was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen his partner and that alone had his heart swelling with affection.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell between them.

Red tinged her cheeks, nearly hidden beneath the makeup, but Ryoma didn’t miss a thing. His words obviously caught her off guard, but she didn’t shy away from his gaze. She cradled the back of his head, sealing his lips with a kiss. Her free hand gripped at his kimono, holding on tight as if he’d slip away.

She set a slow pace. There was no desire to rush it just yet, taking their time to enjoy the feel of their bodies moving together and the build-up of pleasure between them.

Ryoma slid his hands up her thighs, kneading them. He revelled in the low-level pleasure growing between them. “You feel so good,” he groaned as she clenched around him, making him gasp her name.

It was no surprise when she started to pick up the pace, both of them losing patience as the pleasure grew. Ryoma slipped an arm around her waist, holding her close, pinning her to him before he shifted up onto his knees. She gasped, wrapping her legs around him as he pressed her back onto the floor.

Strands of hair had slipped free, spilling out around her. How the wig had stayed in place was beyond Ryoma, but he thought she looked even more beautiful now. With smeared makeup and swollen, kiss-abused lips. Her eye was heavily lidded as she looked at him.

“Ryoma…” Goromi whispered. “Don’t stop.”

A groan escaped her lips as Ryoma pressed back into her. Her head tipping back, back arching up off the floor. Ryoma couldn’t resist pulling open her kimono, bending down over her to lick at her chest, teasing a nipple with tongue and teeth.

Fingers slipped into his hair, holding his head to her as she moaned his name. Writhing on his cock as he fucked into her, faster now. Deeper. Her thighs tightened around his hips as she cried his name, pleading for more.

And Ryoma gave her everything she wanted.

He moved up onto his knees, taking her hips in hand as he picked up the pace, thrusting into her writhing body. He shifted his hips just slightly and she cried out louder than ever.

“There, there fuck Ryoma-chan,” she cried out, reaching for him. Her long fingers curled around his wrist and pulled it to where she needed it most.

Ryoma wasted no time taking her leaking cock in hand, pumping her in a firm grip. The whimper she let out sent heat surging into his core. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last and by the way her cock pulsed in his hand, he wasn’t sure she was going to last much longer either.

“Goromi,” he breathed out, eyes heavily lidded as he looked over her. Her kimono was barely hanging on now, sprawled out around her. The sight drove him wild.

She opened her eye to meet his gaze, lips parted on a breathy moan. “So close,” she groaned. “R-Ryoma… AH.”

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” Ryoma replied. “Cum for me.”

She visibly shuddered, her eye practically rolling back in her head before it slipped shut and her head tipped backwards. “Gonna…G—oh fuck Ryoma-chan.” She suddenly cried out, back arching up off the floor again as she went stiff. Her cock leapt in Ryoma’s hand, spilling ropes of white across her stomach with each pulse.

It was all Ryoma could to do keep up the pace even as he teetered on the edge of his own release. He milked her for every drop, squeezing it out of her with every stroke. And she gasped, and moaned, and cried out his name, writhing beneath him until she was spent, sagging back down onto the ground in a daze.

His hips had stilled despite his own cock throbbing inside her. The clenching of her body had nearly driven him over the edge with her, but he waited, caressing her thigh and waiting for her to recover.

Her thighs tightened again, heel digging into his ass encouragingly as she opened her eye. “Why’d ya stop?” she purred, still breathless. The deep sound of her voice sent a tremor through his body. She rolled her hips encouragingly. “Come on, fill me up.”

Ryoma shuddered as heat went right to his groin, and just like that he was back on the edge. He took her hips in hand and picked the pace back up again, making her gasp. She was quick to meet each of his thrusts with a roll of her hips, legs practically pulling him each time. He chased after his pleasure, moaning her name and incoherent praise.

“S-so close,” he breathed out. He leaned over her, pressing one hand into the blankets beside her, practically folding her in half as he slammed into her willing body, slowly tensing up with each thrust. He bit his lip, chasing that ecstasy.

She clenched around him and he swore loudly, making her grin wickedly. “That’s it, fill me up. Come on.”

And that was all it took.

Pleasure overwhelmed him as the tension snapped and he tumbled over the edge with a cry of her name. His hips snapped to a stop, burying himself deep inside her as he spilled over, filling her up as she whispered filthy praise into his ear. Ryoma could barely hear her, as blood pounded in his ears, eyes rolled back in his head.

He very nearly collapsed forward onto her as he rode out his release, body trembling with the intensity of it. He slipped out of her just in time slump forward,, uncaring of the mess between them as he buried his face into her neck. She wrapped her arms around him, running her fingers through his hair as they both slowly came down from the high together.

Ryoma had almost dozed off, comfortable and warm, head still swimming with post-orgasm high, when Goromi roused him with a soft chuckle.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, Hajime-chan,” she whispered in his ear, caressing his hair. “I’m not done with ya yet.”

 He chuckled in response and finally lifted his head, smiling down at her. “What’s next then?”

“How about a nice long bath?”

“Sounds perfect.”