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[A completely new world was an understatement. After fighting tooth and nail to keep himself from being taken to the future (the only thing that convinced him was Tsurugi, honestly), he'd been too weak to fight it off completely, saying goodbye to the bakumatsu period and entering the future. A world of doctors who quickly diagnosed his tuberculosis and began treatment right away under Dr. Gouenji's orders.
Thankfully, they caught it before it was too late. Barely, but they'd done it.
And while Okita hated almost everything that had to do with this, he'd complied, and started to notice that every breath he took was one more in this world, new or old. He owed it to Tsurugi to keep fighting. Speaking of his breaths, they were longer, and he could feel air fill them more little by little.
He felt more alive....
Most of the days he sat in bed while his few visitors stopped by--mostly the kids from Raimon, a couple adults that claimed to be friends with Tsurugi...A lot of them wore very strange clothes--confined, straight, overly complex, western looking. Which he had to say his room felt like too. It wasn't anything like the room he was resting in back in his period...but he supposes that's more the future than anything.
He's currently inspecting his phone on his nightstand like it's some strange artifact when he hears the knock on the door, quickly placing it back (upside down) and returning to his bed.]
Who's there?
[His voice is sharp, edged...a natural reaction to someone wanting to visit.
(midori can't say she's particularly surprised by okita's reaction. not including the time period he came from, being stranded in a completely new world with very few people he can trust is more than enough to put anyone on edge. she's hardly phased by it in the slightest, walking into the room without even batting an eye.
she's dealt with far worse (this is where hakuryuu feels a chill down his spine).
in one hand, she holds a small bag containing the dvds of a few dramas to entertain okita while he's stuck in the hospital. in the other, a small container of rice balls to lift up his spirits and bring a little normalcy to his otherwise extremely hectic life. with a small smile, she holds up the more important bag, the one containing food, to wave at him.) I'm Midori. Not sure if you remember me, but I go to Raimon.
(at just a quick glance, she can already tell okita looks miles better than he did before. he looks more vibrant, more alive, not constantly bogged down with threats of collapsing or dying at any given moment.
and while it does warm her heart to see him so much healthier, she's also internally cursing it for making him look that much hotter. she's only one girl, she can't handle an ikemen like okita without support.
rest in pieces midori.
holding out the bag of food in the form of a peace offering, midori gives him a brighter smile. mostly to mask her amusement at seeing how he meddled with the phone only to put it back wrong. ah, the things they'll all have to teach him.) I made you some rice balls. I figured you'd probably be craving actual Japanese food by now.
(once he takes that, she shuffles through the other bag to pull out said dvds and holds them up for him to see.) And some of my favorite dramas, too. They can help pass the time until you're discharged.
[Midori walks through the door, and although he doesn't quite remember her enough to remember her name on his own, he clearly recognizes her from when he was sitting on the bench watching Kyousuke in his soccer game. She was one of the ones that had come to his time period, cheering from the sidelines as he had done (with a lot less yelling).
His face relaxes, eyes softening and lips less pursed as she comes in, his whole demeanor a lot more composed.] That's right...you were one of the girls from when Kyousuke and the others came to my time period.
[His time period...that felt so weird to say seeing as he is in a completely different one now. His hands wring the edge of the sheets on his bed. It was comforting, to say the least, that it was another familiar face visiting him, and not someone he had to pretend to be a random patient with.
He's about to continue, but Midori beats him to the punch and holds up the bag of food, proudly explaining its contents: onigiri.
Real food, and not whatever this hospital decided to throw on a plate and give to him (he only ate it for survival and nothing else).]
!!
[You can practically see the twinkle in his eyes return.]
You made me...onigiri?
[There it is, a true smile from Okita Souji himself.]
That's kind of you, Midori-san.
[He takes the bag gratefully, holding it in his arms as if it were some sacred treasure. To say he was craving actual Japanese food was a complete understatement, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not tear through the bag at this very moment.
(it's a relief to know he at least remembers seeing her with the other raimon players. if he hadn't been sure of who she was, well... things could have gotten pretty awkward. though she has to admit, seeing okita souji of all people relax and welcome her is more than she ever thought she'd get in her life, even after visiting his time period.
she nods in response to his question, shuffling through the dvds to decide which one to play.) Yep, that's right. I'm one of the managers on the soccer team.
(at least even with all the strangeness surrounding his circumstances, he still manages to take things in stride. accepting his new life and making the best of it. it warms midori's heart to see him slowly opening up to the new age of japan he's found himself in.
though that might just be in part because him smiling makes her heart skip a beat.) Well, after everything we put you through, I think a decent meal is the least we can do to make it up to you.
(she finally chooses a drama for both of them to watch, and of course, she's choosing one of her favorites. which just happens to be one based around okita. she turns to see him not quite eating yet, and with a quiet laugh, she points to the bag.) You can eat them, I'm just getting this set up.
(after fiddling around with the tv a bit, she finally goes to take a seat next to okita by his bed.) Dramas are like plays. But they've been recorded, so you can watch them any time.
It does more than that. [The sight of the onigiri was...needless to say, a lifesaver. When you'r stranded somewhere with no hope of returning to how things were, any kind of familiarity was like that. Tsurugi was his lifeline, the lone rope he held onto while he tried to learn to swim.
Midori...well, right now she was like a hand reaching out to help him hold on.]
Recorded...plays?
[Curious, Okita pulls out one of those DVDs, marveling at how lightweight the material it was made out of was. Plastic...something he's learning is widely used and widely versatile. Bags, tools...and these recorded plays. All plastic.
The seams on the edge of the case spark his curiosity even more, and...taking his knowledge of books and clasped boxes, he opens the case with little force from his fingers.
When it opens...that brow raises up, holding the case up and turning it.]
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no subject
Thankfully, they caught it before it was too late. Barely, but they'd done it.
And while Okita hated almost everything that had to do with this, he'd complied, and started to notice that every breath he took was one more in this world, new or old. He owed it to Tsurugi to keep fighting. Speaking of his breaths, they were longer, and he could feel air fill them more little by little.
He felt more alive....
Most of the days he sat in bed while his few visitors stopped by--mostly the kids from Raimon, a couple adults that claimed to be friends with Tsurugi...A lot of them wore very strange clothes--confined, straight, overly complex, western looking. Which he had to say his room felt like too. It wasn't anything like the room he was resting in back in his period...but he supposes that's more the future than anything.
He's currently inspecting his phone on his nightstand like it's some strange artifact when he hears the knock on the door, quickly placing it back (upside down) and returning to his bed.]
Who's there?
[His voice is sharp, edged...a natural reaction to someone wanting to visit.
After all, almost everyone was a stranger.]
no subject
she's dealt with far worse (this is where hakuryuu feels a chill down his spine).
in one hand, she holds a small bag containing the dvds of a few dramas to entertain okita while he's stuck in the hospital. in the other, a small container of rice balls to lift up his spirits and bring a little normalcy to his otherwise extremely hectic life. with a small smile, she holds up the more important bag, the one containing food, to wave at him.) I'm Midori. Not sure if you remember me, but I go to Raimon.
(at just a quick glance, she can already tell okita looks miles better than he did before. he looks more vibrant, more alive, not constantly bogged down with threats of collapsing or dying at any given moment.
and while it does warm her heart to see him so much healthier, she's also internally cursing it for making him look that much hotter. she's only one girl, she can't handle an ikemen like okita without support.
rest in pieces midori.
holding out the bag of food in the form of a peace offering, midori gives him a brighter smile. mostly to mask her amusement at seeing how he meddled with the phone only to put it back wrong. ah, the things they'll all have to teach him.) I made you some rice balls. I figured you'd probably be craving actual Japanese food by now.
(once he takes that, she shuffles through the other bag to pull out said dvds and holds them up for him to see.) And some of my favorite dramas, too. They can help pass the time until you're discharged.
no subject
His face relaxes, eyes softening and lips less pursed as she comes in, his whole demeanor a lot more composed.] That's right...you were one of the girls from when Kyousuke and the others came to my time period.
[His time period...that felt so weird to say seeing as he is in a completely different one now. His hands wring the edge of the sheets on his bed. It was comforting, to say the least, that it was another familiar face visiting him, and not someone he had to pretend to be a random patient with.
He's about to continue, but Midori beats him to the punch and holds up the bag of food, proudly explaining its contents: onigiri.
Real food, and not whatever this hospital decided to throw on a plate and give to him (he only ate it for survival and nothing else).]
!!
[You can practically see the twinkle in his eyes return.]
You made me...onigiri?
[There it is, a true smile from Okita Souji himself.]
That's kind of you, Midori-san.
[He takes the bag gratefully, holding it in his arms as if it were some sacred treasure. To say he was craving actual Japanese food was a complete understatement, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not tear through the bag at this very moment.
He'll wait til she finishes talking first.]
...
Dramas?
[Ah, technology.]
Are they thin books?
no subject
she nods in response to his question, shuffling through the dvds to decide which one to play.) Yep, that's right. I'm one of the managers on the soccer team.
(at least even with all the strangeness surrounding his circumstances, he still manages to take things in stride. accepting his new life and making the best of it. it warms midori's heart to see him slowly opening up to the new age of japan he's found himself in.
though that might just be in part because him smiling makes her heart skip a beat.) Well, after everything we put you through, I think a decent meal is the least we can do to make it up to you.
(she finally chooses a drama for both of them to watch, and of course, she's choosing one of her favorites. which just happens to be one based around okita. she turns to see him not quite eating yet, and with a quiet laugh, she points to the bag.) You can eat them, I'm just getting this set up.
(after fiddling around with the tv a bit, she finally goes to take a seat next to okita by his bed.) Dramas are like plays. But they've been recorded, so you can watch them any time.
no subject
Midori...well, right now she was like a hand reaching out to help him hold on.]
Recorded...plays?
[Curious, Okita pulls out one of those DVDs, marveling at how lightweight the material it was made out of was. Plastic...something he's learning is widely used and widely versatile. Bags, tools...and these recorded plays. All plastic.
The seams on the edge of the case spark his curiosity even more, and...taking his knowledge of books and clasped boxes, he opens the case with little force from his fingers.
When it opens...that brow raises up, holding the case up and turning it.]
I don't understand.
This looks like a mirror. A broken one, at that.