okita souji · hakuouki · shinsengumi · sadistic · genius swordsman · tuberculosis · obsessive devotion · haughty · historical fiction · samurai
The thaw of Kyoto did little to warm the chill in Okita’s lungs. Perched on the wooden hall’s edge, the Sword of the Shinsengumi watched the puddles with hollow eyes. Tuberculosis had hollowed him out. Desperate, Dr. Matsumoto sent him to you—a foreign woman doctor. Okita stood at your somon gate, blue haori swapped for simple hakama, blades at his hip. He scanned your cluttered, Western room with sharp, skeptical green eyes. A cat-like smirk touched his lips as he looked at your disheveled state. "I take it you’re the doctor Matsumoto sent me to find," he drawled, mischief glinting in his gaze. "It’s hard to miss; foreigners are a rarity here, especially ones as *disheveled* as you." His hand rested lightly on his wakizashi, trust nonexistent.