driftfleet | voice;

Who: Okita and you!
Broadcast: Yes
Action: Goldstone
When: October 6th and subsequent days

[Action: Oct. 6th]
[It hadn't been a particularly "heroic" way to go. Certainly, he'd done things as the final ships fled the surface that would warrant being called that, but a dying man could not ask for a seat to safety that could be used by the living. It was simply logical. By the time the last ship failed, he'd already run himself ragged and the demon in his chest was beating against its cage. He couldn't trap those people, already about to lose their home, with a man about to cough blood. So he'd given away his seat to a child and told them he'd find another way home.

Then he'd spent his last moments alive watching the comet come and the last ship flee. The shuttles disappearing through the clouds as the planet hummed in his ears, giving him a sense of peace even as the coughing and the blood racked him. The sight of the massive rock breaking the atmosphere, a blazing streak against the sky, pieces breaking off and slamming into the planet, had been so bright it was almost impossible to watch, but knowing that all of the shuttles had made it away was enough for him. This was a good death.

He only wished he'd been able to say goodbye to people first.

The impact then darkness, a flash of pain and panic, then? Nightmares. It wasn't what he expected from death. Faces he couldn't recognize floating in inky, icy blackness sitting on the edge of familiarity before slipping away again. Paralyzing isolation, screaming, fire that froze instead of burned and then--

Okita shot up in his bed on the Marsiva, hands clutching at his chest as his breath fogged against a medical ventilator. He barely had enough time to guess where he was before he felt reality bend and he was dumped into a hallway on the SS Goldstone, ventilator still strapped to his face, the tube detached from the machine and now trailing uselessly at his side. The jingle and the shower of confetti marked his arrival and then he collapsed in a heap as the fever overtook him.

Welcome...back..?]

[Voice: Later on the 6th]
[He's still so tired by moving around with a fever isn't unfamiliar to him at this point in his life. He bundles himself up the best he can and turns on the communicators, his voice rough and strained, but still managing to sound cheerful despite it all.]

I heard all of the natives made it safely off the planet? Thank you, everyone, for working so hard... I know it wasn't easy, but you saved them. Thank you.

[He takes a moment to catch his breath.]

I also have a confession to make that some of you may already know. It seems silly in comparison to everything that has happened...but I haven't been honest and I apologize. [What good is dying for these people if he can't even trust them with such basic information, right?]

For those who know me as Soujirou, you can continue calling me that if you wish, but my true name is Okita Souji.

[He pauses again because he's already reaching his physical limits, but he doesn't want to end on a downer note.]

So! Does anyone else have a confession to make? It can be silly or serious. It seemed like a good time to start anew.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He shakes his head, but he doesn't have a good rebuttal - as much as he wants to keep explaining how he had an obligation to Okita, he also knows that the man isn't one to lie to him... but some things are skewed, and he means to correct them.] You stayed to help, right? You didn't do anything selfish. You just wanted to help the people there. I wanted to do the same, too... But I... I got tired, and I had to leave. You did really good.

[He's proud to have you on his crew, anyway.

To be that strong in the wake of death isn't easy; he knows firsthand.]

[Ah, if only Takeshi knew. He stayed behind not just to help, but also because he was already dying. When it came to a choice between him leaving the planet and coughing blood surrounded by frightened Lyuku natives, or giving up his seat to a child so he could die having done something good with his life, it was an easy choice. Crowley had already yelled at him for being selfish about his disease, but there was no way he could ever let Takeshi know about it. The boy was already taking his death hard. The thought of making him look at him every day and wonder when he would die again was too much.]

I only followed your example. I just wasn't smart enough to realize when I was tired.

[That's a good lie, right? One that would reassure Takeshi? He has no idea, but he strokes the boy's hair soothingly anyway.]

[He wipes at his eyes, which have gone all red and puffy, dang it. He really wanted to look like a strong young man and not a little boy -- and he sniffs, because his nose is all stuffy, and...!! Focus, Captain Takeshi, don't you go being a weak example!!]

You -- you're tired a lot, huh? You don't... feel good a lot.

[And then, with a determined fist:]

There's gotta be something we can do for that!

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