It was in the wee hours of the morning when Jarenna opened her eyes, her breath coming in ragged gasps. It had been the same nightmare all over again, terrifying in its intensity. She was reliving her days of slavery night after night, and she was sick of it.

She was sick of being afraid.

Pushing away the thin covers, she struggled to her feet, trying to shake off the aftereffects of the awful dream. She would get to work, then. It was out of the question to get back to sleep now; she didn't want the nightmare coming back. With a sigh, she changed into her working kimono--the weather was getting slightly chillier--and pulled her hair into a simple ponytail.

It's already been seven months, she thought as she folded her futon neatly before stepping out. Strange how it seems to be only yesterday.

In the darkness like this, it was entirely too easy to be transported back in time to that little hellhole she had crawled into, beaten, half-dead, and just a tiny step from being outright demented. It had taken her a long time to resume what she was before she was kidnapped, and she knew it would take her longer still for her to put the whole thing fully behind her. She was trying, kami knew she was, but it was the nights that threatened to undo her efforts altogether.

None of the staff were awake yet, she noted as she headed into the dark kitchen. It must be earlier than I estimated. Blindly locating the lamps and the box of matches, she was caught off guard when she lit the lamps and saw someone sitting on the windowsill not too far away from her.

She caught herself from screaming, though, because one, the blue haori he was wearing marked him as one of the Shinsengumi. Two, that person was Okita.

"Yukijurou-san," The man in question greeted, with a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Okita-san," Jarenna replied, recovering swiftly and noting that he was wearing his daisho pair and his full Shinsengumi uniform...had he just come back from patrolling the streets? "What are you doing in the kitchen at this time?"

"I was about to ask you the same question," he responded casually, jumping off the sill and landing nimbly in front of her, looking for all the world like it was perfectly normal that people sat in window sills and jumped off them in front of maids in the dead of the morning. His sudden closeness sent a strange bolt of warmth through her that she had to fight to conceal. Oblivious to her sudden discomfort, he looked her over for a brief moment before his eyebrows knitted slightly, his smile fading. "Are you well, Yukijurou-san?"

"Hai." Jarenna was surprised at the question. Why had he asked?

He studied her a little more before replying. "Why then, are you afraid?"

Nani? She should've known that there was nothing that she could possibly hide from a swordsman of his caliber. He had most likely probed her ki. Mustering up a faint smile to reassure him, she said. "It's nothing, really. It was just a dream."

He cocked his head slightly. "A dream that scares you enough for you not to get back to sleeping."

Jarenna made herself busy as she started the fires and began boiling water, anything to take her mind from what he was talking about. "I am simply rested enough. It has nothing to do with the nightmare."

"Then why are you shaking?" he asked.

He's good, she thought. For all his merriment, his sharp eyes missed nothing. She hurriedly set the pot down and instinctively put her hands behind herself. "With all due respect, Okita-sama, I must ask, what are you doing in the kitchen at this time?"

His reply was simple as he looked out the window. "To see the sunrise again."

She was pleasantly surprised. Was it because of what she had said yesterday? She knew that he'd just gotten in from patrolling, and he was bound to be tired, so...why? The question was out of her lips before she knew it.

Now it was his turn to be surprised. She caught a split second of his somewhat unreadable expression before he turned away from her. "It's just like you said, Yukijurou-san. Everyone needs hope once in a while, ne?"

"Hai," she said quietly, sensing that he would not reveal any more. She respected his privacy as she reached over to the rapidly warming kettle to check if it was ready. It was still too early for dawn. "Would you like some tea?"

"Aa. Arigato." He nodded slightly with a smile, finally letting himself relax. Even a Miburo grew weary sometimes.

Okita watched her move out of the corner of his eye. The occasional sounds of preparation distracted him momentarily, and he welcomed it. At least he knew that he wasn't by himself. He didn't know why, exactly, he felt that way, but this time, he really did not want to be alone. The duels, the endless fights against the Ishin, the killings...their death screams haunted his every step. And yet, he knew that he could not, would not, stop now. To do so would slight their memory, for, after all, what were they but men who died for their beliefs?

This time, he watched her openly. She had been touched by death and seemingly endless suffering, yet the deep light within her exotic hazel eyes refused to dim, to relinquish hold to the shadows that held sway over her heart.

Finally, she offered a steaming cup of tea to him with an awkward smile. "Ano…it's not exactly the best, but--"

"Arigato, Yukijurou-san," Okita accepted the cup graciously, the familiar scent of green tea tickling his nostrils. "It's been quite a while since anyone made tea for me." He glanced over at her curiously as she resumed her business. "You're not having any?"

"I don't drink tea."

"You're quite skillful with it nonetheless."

Her tone was wry. "Not all of my masters were belonged to the lowest classes, you know. I had to learn, or I'll be beaten. Not much of a choice."

Okita took that in for a moment before he finally asked. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"How do you do it, Yukijurou-san?" he asked again, this time staring straight at her with a mixture of amazement and respect.

She blinked, confused at his question. "Pardon me?"

"How do you walk around like none of those monstrous things never happened to you?" What stopped you from going totally crazy?

This time she was the one who looked away, breaking eye contact. When she finally answered, it was so soft that he had to strain to hear it. "Because having them haunt my nights is enough. I do not need to dwell on them in the day."

So that explained her terror earlier.

"The ghosts never stop haunting you, yes?" Okita said as he gazed outside. He sighed, and Jarenna saw something that she was sure no one else saw.

The true face of Okita Soushi.

Not Okita Soushi, Shinsengumi Ichibantai Taichou, but Okita Soushi, the man within all the masks he wore.

"You are lucky, Yukijurou-san. You have a chance to put your ghosts to rest. Yet I shall carry my burden for the rest of my life." He looked at her for a long moment, then forced a loud laugh. "Look at us, it's barely the new day and yet we're depressing ourselves with this kind of talk!"

She did not return his smile as she watched him carefully, her expression thoughtful. "Does it get easier?"

"What does?"

"Getting into that mask and hiding from the world. Does it get easier?"

Okita felt a momentary flash of anger. How dare this girl even…

Even what? A snide voice questioned deep within his mind. Even state what is true?

He glanced sharply at her, but already she was off doing her chores. Apparently, she was not interested in the answer. Even then… "Like what you said, Yukijurou-san, no one needs to dwell on awful things in the daytime too. Just facing them in the night is enough."

He knew that that was totally irrelevant, but it felt good for him to say it. Maybe then he would be able to believe it.

A long silence stretched between them before Jarenna bowed and said. "Gomenasai, Okita-sama, I have overstepped my boundaries."

"Iie, Yukijurou-san. I quite appreciated that." He was surprised to find that he actually meant it. He didn't know what it was about her that made him unable to don his customary happy-go-lucky chap in her presence, and he definitely did not know what it was about her that made him feel strangely…vulnerable and strong at the same time. It was strange and new, yet not entirely unpleasant.

He knew, that if it were any other person, he would've just laughed, cracked a few jokes, made them think he was fine and dandy, that nothing bothered him, and waltz out intact. But with her…she seemed to see into his very soul, and those eyes…he knew he could look into them forever…

Ahou, a part of his mind snapped, disturbingly, taking on the voice of his good friend Saito. This is no time to be getting mushy and soft! A few words and you crumble to her?

But then again, he was only human. No matter that he was one of the top swordsmen in Kyoto, no matter how many enemies he killed, he was still only human. And with being human came weaknesses; he had come to accept that long ago.

Once again, the kitchen lapsed into silence.

…

The next week and a half passed quickly, and before the crack of dawn of each morning, Jarenna would find Okita seated on the kitchen's window sill, looking out at the dark sky. He would ask her if it was the nightmare, she would make tea for him, and most of the time they would talk.

Apart from the first few awkward days, they began to talk about anything and everything, and Okita had been surprised that for such a delicate and demure little thing, she was indeed a woman with strong opinions and feelings. They had even discussed poetry in depth, and the swordsman had rapidly gained an interest in her, wondering if there was anything else he had yet to know about her.

It was quickly becoming a ritual, watching the sunrise together, and Jarenna had begun to enjoy the two hours she had with him. He was good company, and for some reason, she had begun to look forward to his presence, especially after one of her nightmares. He seemed to have an innate ability to soothe her fears, little by little.

He would leave just after the sun rose, when the other maids started coming in, and she would go back to her work, not seeing him anymore for the entire day. He had told her that his squad was assigned to do patrolling during the day, which explained his absence from the compound. Maybe it was just as well, because Kimiko was seriously getting on her nerves about it. Of course, there were already rumors that she and Okita were involved, and no matter how much Jarenna vehemently denied it, Kimiko seemed to think that she was guilty, and proceed to give her the cold shoulder for kami knew how long, saying something about Okita being her dream.

Finally, Jarenna had had enough. One fine afternoon, she gathered the clothes and stuffed them into the large bucket in front of her, staring steadily at an irate Kimiko, who had apparently heard that she and Okita were having a secret affair. Kimiko was a lovely girl, really, but when she got like that, there was no reasoning with her. "I'm not going to say this again, Kimiko-san. Nothing happened between us. If you want to sulk, go and do it somewhere else. I have work to do."

The underlying irritation in her words annoyed the younger girl even more as she crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "You always tell me that, Jarenna-san, but if there is really nothing between the two of you, why do I keep hearing those blasted rumors?"

"Ask those people who started it," came the reply.

Kimiko followed Jarenna's brisk footsteps outside. "Look, I'm just saying that if there's anything--"

"There's nothing between us, Kimiko-san."

She snorted. "There better be…I mean, there are so many men in the Shinsengumi clamoring for your attention, why do you have to find Okita-sama, right?"

Jarenna couldn't help but roll her eyes. Her friend got so ridiculous sometimes. "Clamoring for my attention? Hardly."

As if to put lie to her words, a shout came from opposite the courtyard. "Oi, Yukijurou-san!!"

It was Harada, who was now hurrying across the yard, looking as good as new and with a twinkle in his eye. He really was a handsome man, even with that customary plant stalk in his mouth. Roguish, but handsome.

Both girls started to curtsey, but Harada plucked the heavy bucket from Jarenna's arms and stopped her. "There really is no need for that." He inclined his head briefly towards Kimiko and smiled slightly before turning his full attention to Jarenna. "Now, where do you want this to go?"

Jarenna shook her head. "Harada-sama, there's no need--"

"Nonsense," he snorted. "You've helped me a lot, and it's time for me to return the favor. And call me Sanosuke. Where does this go?"

Behind him, Jarenna caught the raised eyebrow and smugly questioning look Kimiko gave her. She would've returned that with a glare, but with the Tenth Squad Captain looking at her, she couldn't quite possibly do that.

And to make things worse, Kimiko had hurried away. Great, now she was going to be able to live this down. As they walked across the yard to where the clothesline was, Jarenna's mind turned to more important things. Like why in Kami's name he was out of bed, for instance.

"Sanosuke-kun, don't you have to rest? Your wounds--"

He flashed her a crooked smile. "Two weeks is more than enough for me, Yukijurou-san. What do you think I am, a weakling?"

"I'm not the one who took on almost sixty Ishin men and still came out alive."

"True. But if it weren't for you, I'd be dead. So…thank you." He stopped, and Jarenna had stopped with him. His dark eyes held an intensity that was not common for him, and she squirmed under his gaze, feeling slightly uncomfortable. And it really didn't help matters that he practically towered over her.

"There's no need for that, Sanosuke-kun. I was just doing my job."

Again with that disarming roguish smile. The Tenth Captain was very well-known for that. "Oh? I don’t see the word 'doctor' in your job description."

A doctor?? "All I did was stitch you up and make sure you weren't infected. It was lucky." She tucked an errant strand of hair back and glanced over where a couple of the Shinsengumi men--most likely from his squad--were watching with mild interest. "Thank you for helping me carry the bucket, Sanosuke-kun, but maybe you should get back before your men think we're staging a play."

Harada returned her smile and set the bucket down before heading in the direction of where his men were standing. "Aa. I'll see you around then, Yukijurou-san."

…

"Kami-sama," Junko groaned one night as she sorted through the bloody mess that was called laundry. "Look at all the blood!"

Kimiko, who had been passing by on her way to her sleeping quarters, poked her head in curiously. "Junko-san?"

The old woman sighed and began pouring warm water on the clothes in a bid to get out the blood. "Kimiko, what are you doing still up?"

Kimiko shifted uncomfortably. It was quite impossible to tell her that she had been waiting near the gates for a glimpse of Okita-sama. She hadn’t seen him lately, so she was eager for just another glance. He couldn't talk to her, though, because Hijikata-sama had whisked him and the other captains off as soon as they stepped in. Something about a meeting. Nonetheless, Junko had no tolerance for Kimiko's dreams, saying that they were impossible and nonsensical. She had been on the receiving end of the older woman's sharp tongue enough times to learn not to make that mistake again. "I-I went to the kitchen for a drink. Couldn't sleep." She looked at the clothes that were filled with blood and resisted the urge to gag. No matter how many times she saw things like this, it still never failed to make her queasy. She hated blood. "Shall I wake Jarenna-san to help you?"

Junko shook her head. "I'll handle this myself. That poor child's been sleeping late and waking terribly early. She's going to burn out if she doesn't have more rest."

Irritation flared within Kimiko at that statement. Why the heck did everyone always seem to care about Jarenna so much? Okita-sama only spoke to her, Harada-sama gave her all his attention, and now even Junko-san was taking her side! What was wrong with the world? Was she invisible or something? It was terribly frustrating and unfair!

"Would you like to help, Kimiko-san?" Junko asked offhandedly.

She stiffened. Spend the entire night washing blood off this laundry instead of getting the beauty sleep she deserved? Definitely not. "Oh, Junko-san, I would love to, but--" she broke it off with a harsh sounding cough. "I think I'm not feeling well these days…"

"Go to sleep then," Junko replied, looking mildly disbelieving, but deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt. Kimiko had been looking slightly off-color these past few days, after all.

…

"I killed my friend."

The statement came out from nowhere, and the brevity of those four words made Jarenna stiffen considerably. They were in the kitchen as usual. She'd noticed from the bloodstains on his haori, his disheveled appearance, and the slightly crooked way his bandanna was tied, but had thought it was just another night of patrolling. He was quiet, but Jarenna had earlier sensed that something was very wrong, though she had it equated to some kind of conflict with other captains. It was not good to pry, after all.

But…

"Okita-san?"

His face was deathly pale, his eyes almost wild; she had never seen this side of him before, and it scared her. Hurriedly, she put down the pot and moved over to where he was seated, concerned. "Okita-san, are you all right?"

"No, no. I murdered my friend." He lowered his head. "I murdered Keisuke."

Jarenna stared at him, stunned. For the past week, news had been flying around that Yamanami Keisuke had deserted the Shinsengumi in the wake of the mess with Serizawa Komo and his minions. All in all, it had been a terribly messy week, full of conflicts between the men. She had not been witness to most of them, however, since she had been in the kitchens most of the time, but she had heard enough to be apprehensive.

But she did not know that it would come to this. Recovering, she reached and put a hand on his. She felt his stiffen slightly, but relaxed a little later, accepting the simple touch. The smooth leather of the armguard prevented her from connecting with his skin, but still. He was troubled, and that was all that mattered. "Okita-san," she said softly, catching his attention and holding it. He looked so much like a child then, like the seventeen year old he truly was. "Okita-san, speak to me."

He stared at her for a long moment, then he told her the story.

As he told her the story, a cold prickle of dread worked up her spine. Hijikata-sama had ordered Okita to hunt Yamanami down, Yamanami, childhood friend of both Hijikata-sama and Okita-san. Earlier, Okita had brought him back and under Hijikata's orders, commanded him to commit seppuku. Okita had been behind his childhood friend to cut off his head when the deed was done, which explained the blood.

Oh, kami-sama, she thought as she gazed at the man before her, quaking in his grief. It had taken everything Okita had to actually go through with it, and…she closed her eyes, suppressing a shudder. Hijikata was indeed a man who adhered to the law. So much so that he killed his friend for it.

When Okita was finished, the wild look in his eyes intensified, huge and searching and angry and lost even as he ripped his haori and threw it to the floor with a strangled cry.

The heartbroken sound struck her hard as she knelt down to pick up the jacket for him. Jarenna felt tears prickle in her eyes as she saw Okita break down, sobbing into his knees. Okita Soushi was just a man, after all. A man who had made his friend commit seppuku.

A man who had watched his friend die.

And in all honesty, he had never expected something like this to happen.

Feeling her heart break for him, Jarenna reached over and wrapped her arms around his hunched frame, blinking back tears. She felt him stiffen once again for a second, before she found herself crushed against him. She didn't know how he'd managed to stand, but he did. No words were exchanged; they were not important, what with Jarenna offering her silent comfort, and Okita, for the first time, drawing from her strength. He was just so tired, so tired…

They stood like that for a long time.

…

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