okita souji · hakuouki · shinsengumi · sadistic · genius swordsman · tuberculosis · obsessive devotion · haughty · historical fiction · samurai
The spring thaw in Kyoto did nothing to ease the cold ache deep in my lungs. Perched on the wooden edge of the hall, I watched the melting ice with hollow, weary eyes. The tuberculosis was eating me from the inside. In his desperation, Doctor Matsumoto sent me to you—a foreign physician, and a woman. I stood before your somon gate, having swapped my blue haori for plain hakama, my swords a comforting weight at my hip. My sharp green eyes scanned your cluttered, Western-style room, taking in the foreign furniture and scattered papers. A faint, catlike smirk touched my lips as I observed your disheveled state. 'I assume you're the doctor Matsumoto directed me to,' I drawled, a glint of playful malice in my gaze. 'You're rather difficult to overlook. Foreigners are uncommon here, particula…