Disclaimer: I don't own jack!

Summary: He'd carved his path by the edge of his blade. She'd found her meaning through the force of duty. Now they're both inextricably tied together with a single goal in mind: The return home.

Pairing: Okita/Kagome

Suggested Listening: Revelation by Really Slow Motion

Of Pride and Honor

Chapter One: Edo, No More

It'd been an unusually cold winter in Edo. White blanketed the ground as transparent shells of ice coated the bare, spindly shaped branches of the forest's trees. Crops from the local villages had long since withered away and much of the game had travelled further south to escape the freezing temperatures. People were beginning to starve. Okita pressed forward in his mission. A rush of white air spilled from his mouth into the frigid mist. Snow crunched heavily beneath his feet with each step he took. It'd merely been a simple recruitment mission. They needed more men and word was that there were some promising warriors residing in Edo. However an unusually strong snowstorm had managed to tear apart the landscape in his short two-month journey. Emerald eyes narrowed as he came upon a small clearing blanketed in white. He needed to find shelter and fast. Judging by the pristine layer of snow, no one had passed through here in the last day or so. His eyes narrowed, he was too far from any of the nearby villages.

The nearest Inn was close to a three-hour walk from this distance. The storm would block out all the trails long before he'd have the chance to return. He glanced around the clearing. The forest was only lightly dotted with iced-over trees and shrubbery. There weren't any caves or hollowed out dens to be found anywhere. However there was one thing. The howling of the wind began to drown out the sound of snow crunching under his feet.

He lifted his hand and brushed a thick layer of snow from an object protruding from the ground. There was wood buried beneath its surface. The brown-haired man peered over the lip and into the dark abyss below. It was a well. There wasn't any water left running inside of it. He could also tell that it was quite old given the state of the wood. It was soft and rotting, the stench of its dampness still managing to burn his nose through the cold.

It'd be just as chilly in the empty shaft as it would be up here. However the wind would be blocked. Still, that left the risk of being buried alive by the blizzard. The space was too small to start a fire. He'd have to rely on his coat and simple sleeping blanket that he'd packed for emergencies. Emerald eyes narrowed. This was a dangerous route to take. He could possibly travel a bit further in the forest, but given the present surroundings he doubted he'd magically find another form of shelter from this frigid weather. He sucked a breath between his lips and immediately regretted it.

Tendrils of the icy cold wind seeped down his throat, virtually stabbing at his lungs as if they were a thousand blades. Okita's hand flew up to cover his mouth, but the gesture was already too late. A hacking cough made its way up his throat. This was the third time this week it'd happened. As the temperatures dropped, the coughing grew worse until his chest began to hurt and his throat had run dry. His legs collapsed beneath the stress of his coughs. He tried to cut it off midway. He smothered his mouth with his hand, taking shallow breaths between each hacking cough that forced itself from his throat. His chest constricted from the struggling, when finally, the irritating itch that caused the fit in the first place receded. The young man sighed into his hand. He closed his eyes and took a moment to gather up his strength once more.

He hated this feeling of helplessness. The fits were sporadic at first, only bothering him once a month or so. Now they were nearing a daily occurrence. He'd been lucky in that Hijikata hadn't noticed before he left on this mission. Okita was certain that had the commanding officer known then he would have likely been ordered to not leave his room until the coughing ceased entirely. He couldn't have that. He wouldn't be confined to that room until he'd seen this mission through to its end. Kondou needed men right now. He was the only one available at this point that they could send. He wouldn't fail. Not now, not ever.

Okita opened his eyes to find a trail of scarlet beneath his knees. His breath hitched in his throat. Pulling back his hand, he found it covered in the same horrific shade. Blood. He flexed his fingers, staring at the palm of his hand in stunned silence. He wanted to believe that it was simply the stress of the cold. He wanted so desperately to just brush it off as merely a reaction to his surroundings. Still, somewhere deep within him, Okita feared what he knew could very well be the truth.

Word of a fatal illness spreading from the western coasts through the mainland had caught on like wild fire. An illness whose symptom often described the blood he now found in his hand and beneath his knees. It was too much. It was far too much for just the simple cold. He stood on shaky feet. Eyes wide and breath hitched, he fought to regain his balance. He wouldn't die. Not like this.

The man placed one hand on the lip of the well. There wasn't any other option at this point. If he wanted to live to finish his mission, he'd have to take the dive into the abyss that awaited him below. Okita threw one leg over the ledge. With a great deal of caution he slipped his foot into the crevices between the old stones that lined the interior. Using both of his arms, he hovered his torso over the lip and slipped his other leg over the side. Once he was fully settled, he began the slow climb down. It was too far to simply jump. Too dark to just assume that there was nothing to cause him damage on the bottom. So he chose to take things as slowly and cautiously as possible. He narrowed his gaze as his lungs began to burn from the icy wind. He wasn't about to give up. Not now, not ever.

He'd managed to make it halfway down before he heard the tell tale crumbling of stone falling away from his feet. He glanced briefly to ensure that he was secure enough to keep going. However the moment he looked away the age-smoothed brick grasped in the palm of his hand gave way. His arms slipped as the feeling of weightlessness hit him. He was falling. Okita's teeth gnashed together. He reached out and tried to grab back onto the wall—a mildly feeble attempt at stopping his rapid descent. The rough texture tore at the frozen flesh of his fingers, ripping at the nails and leaving parallel lines of blood falling downward to the bottom on the wall's surface.

He growled in pain, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily. Was this how it was all going to end? He was going to die… because he climbed into an old well? This… was not how he envisioned his own demise. Frustration clawed its way through his chest and up his still irritated throat.

The man reached out once more to try to solidify his grip on the surface. Again, flesh tore and nails bled. The ground was inching ever closer now at a pace he could barely comprehend. He was going to die and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Okita grit his teeth. Damn it all to hell. His world went black and the last he saw was the white sky towering high above him through the tunnel of shadows. It was ironic how much like his own life that image reflected. Unconsciousness took his mind before the fall destroyed his body.

Okita woke to something cool and wet being placed on his forehead. His body was unbearably warm yet there was something soft under him. It wasn't like the futons he was used to sleeping in. Instead it felt closer to something like a bed of grass in the dawn of spring. He opened his eyes to find a white ceiling above him. It was strange though. It wasn't made out of wood or any material he'd known. Where was he?

"Oh, you're awake." A woman sighed in relief somewhere beside him. He tried to turn his head. "Ah!" She rushed into view, black hair spilling over her shoulders and next to the pillow where his face was. "You shouldn't do that. Your body is still too weak!" Indeed she was correct. All the muscles in his neck were stiff. Small movements were jarring to his senses—like the feeling of a vice clamping around all of his neck. The man stilled, choosing to allow this stranger to look over his injuries. He flexed his fingers instinctively. They felt restricted, as if they'd been bandaged tightly. Perhaps he'd done more damage to them than he realized.

"You took quite the fall," The woman added softly as she examined the wrapped appendages. Deft hands worked to untie the bandages. Was she a doctor? She seemed to have some experience with this kind of thing. "I'm surprised your injuries were so minor. Still," Her lips thinned as azure eyes narrowed in concern. "Your fever is pretty high. Your skin is burning up."

Once his hands were relieved of their confinements, she set to work on cleaning them. With gentleness, her hands wrapped around one of his own. She lowered it into a bowl filled with something cold. The harsh burn of alcohol and the coppery scent of blood stung at his nose. Okita grit his teeth as the cuts began to feel as if they were being torn open again. Lifting the appendage, she repeated the process with the other one.

"Sorry," The woman apologized, "But we have to make sure they don't get infected. You'll just have to bear with me for the moment. It'll be over soon."

A wry smile tugged at his lips, "I'm not a child." His voice was dry and cracked from the cold. He could feel his lips splitting with each word he spoke. His throat was unbearably dry and something within him seemed to have snapped into place. How much damage had he done to himself? How long would he now be out of commission due to his foolish mistake? He closed his eyes while attempting not to cringe at the fierce stinging his hands were experiencing. He couldn't stay here long. He needed to finish his mission. Kondou was relying on him.

"What's your name?" The woman inquired lightly. Azure eyes remained set upon his injuries as she began to wrap them once more. The muscle in his sword arm flexed instinctively.

"I'm Higurashi Kagome." She met his eyes momentarily, "We found you in the well earlier this evening. You were in pretty bad shape." Her expression darkened somewhat. "Well, you still are in bad shape but at least you're conscious now." Once both of his hands were securely wrapped, the young woman removed the cloth cooling his forehead. She then moved her fingers and quickly placed them upon the space above his brows. They were soft and gentle. He closed his eyes as memories of his childhood prior to his mother's death filled his mind. The bedding beneath him shifted as she leaned forward. The heat of her breath ghosted across the flesh of his cheek. "If this keeps up we'll have to take you to the doctor. Your fever is way too high to be safe." The cloth was replaced, this time cooler than it had been before. Had she dipped it in water when he wasn't looking?

"You're not a doctor?" He managed through the discomfort. Okita turned his head as the scent of Sakura blossoms and fresh rainwater hit him.

Kagome gave a light laugh, "Oh no, not even close." Before he could ask her any more questions she abruptly stood from his bedside. "I'll bring you some water and medicine. Try to get more rest in the mean time. In about a day or so your fever should let up." The young woman smiled kindly at him. "So don't fret. We'll get you back on your feet soon enough."

With that she was gone. It was only after the door closed behind her that he realized something. He'd never given her his name.

The next few hours went by in a blur. He'd wake for several minutes, take his medicine before falling back to sleep. At the very least his fever was beginning to subside. It was only when the light of dawn began to rise outside that he noticed a few odd things within the room he was given. A large, square shaped box was placed directly on top of the dresser across from the bedding he was lying upon. It was black and a translucent screen stretched across its front. He had no clue what purpose such an object could possibly function for.

Even more strangely was the furniture itself. He'd seen some of the western chairs, desks and other such objects. However these seemed different than what he was used to. They weren't heavy or bulky, but rather slim and appearing light in their weight. Instead of the dark, natural wood the exteriors were painted a soft shade of white. Where in the world was he? Surely western imports couldn't have made such an impact in Edo by now, could they?

His bandaged fingers clenched at his side. He ignored the pain in favor of sitting up. The sheets pooled at his waist as a cool breeze ghosted over his chest. He was shirtless. It was likely the snow had soaked his clothing after he fell into the well. If such were the case, then it was only necessary that they'd be removed. He sighed.

Emerald eyes narrowed as he wrapped the sheet around his hips. What could he wear? There wasn't anything obvious lying around. Should he check the dresser? The man quietly pulled the first drawer open. He peered inside only to find the empty space boards staring back at him. Nothing. He pulled the second drawer with much the same result. Okita sucked a breath between his lips. Had nothing been left for him to change into? A small wave of irritation caused his brow to quirk upwards in a tiny arc. That was rather thoughtless. Although perhaps his host hadn't thought he'd be attempting to leave his bed so soon.

"Kagome, you'll be late!" He heard someone call from downstairs. The heavy thudding of footsteps followed by a noisy crash erupted from outside of his room. The man cocked his head to the side curiously. What on earth was that? "Are you alright?" The previous person inquired after the ruckus.

"I'm fine, I'll be there in a minute!" Something heavy fell to the ground followed by a string of muted curses. Ah, was that his host? He briefly forgot her name as he heard her rush down a set of stairs. "Are those clothes done? He'll be waking soon!"

This time it was a younger, masculine voice that interrupted the conversation, "If he isn't already awake with the ruckus you've made." So there was a third person in the household. Okita stored away this information for later. Two were clearly female, the first he'd met and the other was likely her mother. The third was young, perhaps a male relative or little brother. So far there were few threats. The man slowly traced his steps back to the bedding he'd been given. It was of a western design that he recognized but the material was far softer than anything he was used to. Quite frankly, he rather enjoyed using it.

More odd noises flowed through the house. Unusual beeps, clanging of dishes and odd ringing sounds could be heard as the time ticked onwards. He cocked his head to the side. What sort of machines did they even have in this house? He wanted to find out but couldn't bring himself to leave the room without his clothing. He'd simply have to wait until his host returned with them. He threw the sheets back over himself and ensured that he was completely covered for the moment.

It didn't take long before the woman made her appearance. She knocked lightly at his door.

"Are you awake? I'm bringing in your clothes, okay?" Her voice was timid as the knob slowly began to turn. It was clear that she was worried about walking in on him in a state of undress. He held a laugh between his teeth. That was admirably innocent of her.

"Come in, I'm decent enough." Okita called out in response. The door pushed inward. A head of black hair peered into the room as her eyes adjusted to darkness. He hadn't quite found a lamp to light yet or any matches either. So he'd been left in the otherwise darkened room.

"Watch your eyes. I'm turning the lights on now." She warned hesitantly. He cocked his head to the side. Watch his eyes for what? Suddenly and without much warning, a bright light encompassed the small space. He brought his bandaged hands to cover his eyelids.

"Sorry, there wasn't much I could do about that. Anyways," He heard more than saw her flit to his side. The scent of cherry blossoms and rainwater filled his nose again. He felt the heat of her body warm his semi-exposed flesh from her proximity. She definitely liked to invade his personal space. "I've got your clothes ready to go here. I'll leave you to dress. When you're done I'll clean your hands again and change out your bandages. Can't have you getting an infection." His eyes slowly adjusted as everything came into view. With the unholy light that'd blinded him minutes prior, he could make out more details than he had before. Those contraptions seemed even stranger now that he could see them in plain view. Black colored cords and cables piled up behind the dresser where the odd box-shaped item sat. Had he missed those earlier?

The woman swiftly turned on the ball of her foot, "Just let me know when you're ready." She flashed a small smile at him. "Don't rush and just take your time." With that she left. The door clicked softly behind her as the sound of her footsteps disappeared down the hallway. Okita glanced between the light spilling between the slit of the door and the clothes by his bedside. Somehow, he had a sinking feeling about this whole situation. Being bedridden was bad enough. Being in a stranger's home and at their mercy was even worse. Where was he? Was he even still in Edo?

He stood and dressed himself as quickly as his body would allow. The man paused as he realized something important—his katana* and wakizashi* were missing. Perhaps his host wasn't quite as trusting as she first appeared. Given the fact that she'd thought to hide his daishou* from him even in this weakened state. Not many would have thought him capable of much with his hands as badly injured as they were. A small smirk tugged at his lips—the woman was sharp. Still, he'd be having those back now with or without her permission.

"I'm ready." Okita announced loudly. She reappeared as if on call. The man waited until she came to the center of the room. In her hands she held a roll of gauze, a bowl and what looked to be a bottle of clear liquid. Even from this distance he could pick up on the burning stench of alcohol. Ah, so that's what she used the previous night.

"Go ahead and take a seat," The dark haired woman gestured towards the bed. "It'd be more comfortable." He obliged. Just like before her hands made quick work of the bandages around his fingers. They were torn away and piled up in a small basket that she'd pulled over from beside the desk. He glanced downward at his unwrapped hands. His nails were practically falling off. Some were pushed up while others were barely hanging on by a thread. Had he been a lesser man then he would've cringed.

"The good news is that they'll grow back." She stated optimistically, "You were fortunate that you didn't break anything. Most of the damage was to your hands. How's your neck though? I know it was causing you some trouble last night."

Okita stared blankly at her, "How did you…?" His voice trailed off as she flashed him a knowing smile.

"Every time you turned your head in your sleep you'd cringe. You probably just pulled a muscle in it at the very least." She popped the cap of the bottle and poured the liquid into the bowl she'd brought. The burning smell of alcohol stung at his nose once more. His lips thinned in distaste. "Is it still bothering you today?"

He tilted his head from left to right and back again. It was certainly stiff but not the sharp pain that he'd felt last night. The man gave a quick shake of his head, "No, it's fine." He responded coolly.

"Good." She took the first hand and submerged it into the bowl. He bit into his cheek to keep from showing weakness. She allowed the appendage to soak for a good half minute before pulling it out. The translucent sheen of the alcohol began to turn a light shade of pink from the blood of his wounds. He didn't await her directions as he swiftly pushed his other hand into the bowl. The woman nodded at him after a short time. He sighed between his teeth as the sensation of a thousand needles prying at his nails slowly died away. He flexed his fingers inwards towards his palm in a series of minor exercises to test their strength. It was painful but not impossible. It'd likely only be a week or two before he'd regain full functionality.

"Hey," Okita started as his host started work on retying fresh bandages over his injuries. She spared him a quick, questioning glance. "Where are my swords?" His voice was sharp as he narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

A light smirk tugged at her lips. If she was frightened of his menacing demeanor then she didn't show it, "Don't worry, they're not far. I'll give them back to you once we're done here." He felt her hands tighten the knot that held the bandages in place. "Just give me a minute. I'll bring them to you."

A smirk tugged at his own lips now, "Sure, just try not to scratch them kid."

"Kagome." She corrected quickly. The azure-eyed woman tilted her head over her shoulder. Black hair spilled onto her back like a small waterfall. "Just call me Kagome. Now if you need anything else just ask either me or my mother. I have somewhere I need to be for a while. So she'll be the one taking care of you for the next eight hours or so."

"Oh?" His voice took on a teasing tone to it. Despite the promise she'd made to bring him his weapons, it was still fairly clear to him that she wasn't going to trust him not to cause her or her family harm. The woman's shoulders were taught as a light of ferocity sparked in her eyes. There was more going on with her than what she was giving him. Okita didn't sense any danger from her specifically. Kagome, he remembered her name, didn't seem to be interested in causing him any harm. Had she only be interested in obtaining information from him then she would've taken advantage of his weakened state and used it against him. She had her reasons for helping him. He just didn't know what they were. He needed to tread cautiously.

She left as quickly as she'd come. Kagome had taken both the basket and cleaning supplies with her. He sat back on the bed. Her mother huh? So he was right about that previous assumption. There only appeared to be three members of the family housing him so far. The man leaned his head against the wall by the small cutout headboard. At least he hadn't fallen into any of the enemy's hands.

Kagome returned one final time. Within her hands she'd held his blades.

"Sorry it took so long. I ended up giving them a good cleaning last night too. They were in pretty rough shape." She held them out to him. He took them from her hands. Slipping the katana into his belt first and then his wakizashi in the spot just above it, he gave her a quick nod of gratitude. Truthfully he hadn't had much time to do proper maintenance on his swords. With the harsh winter conditions, lack of proper housing and even less supplies, he'd simply gone without polishing them for the duration of his assigned task.

"Thanks." Okita stood and made his way towards the door.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to leave just yet." He blinked at her. He felt her hand upon the bicep of his arm. The touch wasn't forceful like he expected to be. It wasn't quite gentle either. It was merely the firm hold that a parent would have on their child when caught doing something they weren't supposed to. He threw a guarded glance over his shoulder at her.

"Why's that?" Truthfully this would be the best time he'd get information out of her. Where they were. What exactly happened to him. All of those questions he wanted answered.

Kagome drew in a breath and released a deep sigh, "The first thing is that I need to ask you something important. Would you be alright with that?" He observed as her eyes sharpened into something serious and felt her fingers curl more tightly around the cloth of his sleeve. He blinked. It was the first time he'd noticed it. The difference in their attire was rather… stark. Her shirt followed the contours of her hourglass figure in a slight hug. Her sleeves were not the long furisode* that one would expect of an unmarried woman. Instead it was tight and fitted neatly over her flesh like a second layer of skin. Next he noticed her pants. It was not a common practice for women to wear pants. Instead they strictly stuck to kimono and other such attire. This woman however wore cloth that, like her shirt, hugged to her form and showed off the shapely curves of her hips and legs. Something was wrong.

"Firstly, may I ask your name?" The sharpness in those eyes didn't lessen. He turned to face her more directly.

Emerald eyes met Azure, "Okita Souji." Recognition flitted across her expression briefly. Ah, so she knew about him. He observed the woman more carefully. Her reaction to his identity would serve as the hallmark of whether she'd be his enemy or temporary ally. So he watched closely.

"Okita-san," Kagome spoke softly. Her hands slipped from his bicep to her side. "This is going to be a strange question but what year is it?"

He felt his own expression harden. What kind of question was that? He'd rather not answer something so mundane. Yet, he glanced at the hard-lines sharpening the once soft features of her face, he knew that this seemingly useless question served an important purpose. So he decided to humor her.

"1862." A teasing smirk tugged at his lips, "Why? Are you going to tell me that I'm wrong?"

Her brows furrowed, "Okita-san, I think that there's something you should see." She offered him her hand. "I'll answer all your questions as best as I can but first, let me show you where you are." Kagome's voice was soft and full of concern. Her lips thinned as she continued to hold her hand for him to take. It was a gesture that one would see as a form of kindness—but it could also be used as a signal of trust. A trust that he did not yet know would be wise to place in his host.

"You serious?" He inquired with a flat-toned shock. Perhaps he was a bit dumbfounded. Truthfully Okita wasn't really sure what was going on anymore. All that he knew was that this place likely wasn't Edo and Kagome knew more about his situation that she was letting on.

She nodded at him once. The sharpness in her gaze grew fiercer. He clamped his teeth together as a decision formed in his mind. Despite the rough shape his hands were in, he knew he'd be able to handle this girl on his own. She posed little to no threat to him as he was currently. If she decided to turn against him then he wouldn't hold back. He'd kill her. With minor reluctance, he took her hand into his own. He'd allow her to guide him for the moment. He had enough confidence in himself to know that she couldn't cause him harm.

With measured steps, she led them out of the room. Okita hadn't much of a chance to observe his surrounded as she ushered him through the home as quickly as possible. Everything flashed by in a flurry of colors, sounds and odd contraptions. Now he knew something was off. She'd pulled him along with all the strength of a furious mother. Her hand tugged on his gently, yet firmly as they'd made their way outside. He glanced around—attempting to memorize the layout of this home for future use. It was definitely some sort of shrine. A honden* was tucked away at the far edge of the shrine—completely closed from visitors.

Kagome gestured towards a bench settled near the torii* gate towering at the top of a long set of descending stairs.

"Let's sit there." She released his hand in favor of picking a seat. He followed after her. His head swiveled from one side of the shrine to the other. Everything seemed so familiar yet different. There were things he recognized and things that seemed completely foreign to him. Where in the hell was he?

"Okita-san," Kagome began as she looked off towards the distance, "When you fell into the well, did you feel anything strange?"

He glared at her, "Strange how?"

She ignored the tension in his voice. Instead choosing to elaborate on her question, "Like you were falling through a river? A weightlessness that seemed odd?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. Weightlessness? Sure, he'd been fucking falling to his damn demise. How would he not have felt that weightlessness? Okita didn't answer her. The urge to be sarcastic was overwhelming.

The woman sucked in a deep breath between her teeth, "Take a look down the hill. Tell me what you see. Anything seem odd?" He was half tempted to tell her that she was the odd one but he felt that was perhaps a bit too cruel given her previous deeds in helping him recover. So Okita merely chose to humor her.

Emerald eyes turned towards the city below… then widened drastically. The forest was gone. In its place were towering buildings, swarms of colors that were likely people and other strange inventions that he couldn't quite name. This damn sure wasn't Edo. How could falling into a well lead him here? Wherever here was anyways.

"What…?" He didn't get the chance to finish his question.

"Okita-san," Kagome gently placed her hand upon his as she turned to face him. Azure eyes softened with empathy as she met his gaze. "What you fell through wasn't just a well. It was a rip. To be more specific it was a rip in the fabric of time."

"That's…" He wanted to call her crazy. He wanted to stand up and prove that this was all nonsense. Time travel? It was impossible.

Kagome shook her head, "It's not impossible. At least not for the ones chosen by the well." She looked towards the sky once more. "We don't really get that choice you know. It sort of just happens. You either fall in by accident or get dragged in by some twisted design of the gods. Regardless the damn thing is a pain in the ass." She rubbed the back of her head with her free hand. It seemed as if she were speaking from her own experience. Which led to another question, just how many people travelled through that gods-forsaken death trap?

"I don't know why you were chosen. To be honest I don't even know how you were able to pass through but…" She stopped as her fingers curled over his wrapped ones more tightly, "…right now, you're over one hundred and thirty years beyond your time period. Okita-san, you're in Japan's future."

The breath was struck from his lungs. Over a hundred years in the future? That wasn't possible. This just had to be some kind of sick feverish dream. He'd open his eyes and wake up to some doctor hovering over him. The man shook his head. None of this could be real.

She lifted his hand and held it firmly, "I know this is going to take a bit of time getting adjusted to. It'll all go by in a blur at first. Confusion, anger and frustration are all part of the things you'll experience in the next few days." The strange woman met his gaze. In it he did not find scorn, fear or smugness from this situation. Instead all he found was a fierce determination that he'd only see true warriors wear before her. This was no ordinary woman. "So let me promise you this. Regardless of what happens, I'll make sure you get home. It's the least I can do." She gave his hand one last gentle squeeze before allowing it to drop onto his lap.

He sat dumbstruck. Time travel. A well. The Gods. Everything scrambled together in his mind. He knew it. He was dead and gone to hell. This was just some twisted payback for all the lives he'd taken while in the Shinsengumi. There was no other explanation.

Okita opened his mouth and asked the one question that was bothering him, "Where am I?"

A wry smile pulled at Kagome's lips, "Welcome to Tokyo."

A/n: Well, that was a rather interesting end. I figured I'd try to do something just a little bit different here. Don't worry, this arc does serve a major purpose that I'll get into later. Anwyays what do you guys think? Been having a blast with the Hakuoki games and I always enjoyed Okita's route the most. Maybe it's just because I'm a glutton for punishment? XD Anyways, let me know what you think! I certainly enjoy hearing from you! Although because I'm writing about a time period I'm less familiar with, I've gone ahead and chosen to do a definition list at the bottom of each chapter. For me it helps improve the atmosphere of the story and bring a more authentic feel to the storytelling. Hope you all enjoyed!

**Katana—A long and curved blade with a single edge. Often worn by Samurai.

**Wakizashi—A blade that's between 30-60cm (12in-24in). It was usually carried as a set with the Katana. The Wakizashi, while generally smaller than the Katana, are not always so. Few were the size of full-length katana blades.

**Daishou—A set of matching Katana and Wakizashi swords that was often worn by the samurai class in Japan. These sets sometimes became the marker to signify a samurai's status as a warrior.

**Furisode—A formal style of long sleeves on kimonos. These were worn almost exclusively by unmarried women to signify their status as marriageable and of age.

**Honden—The most scared building on a shrine. Its main function is for the enshrined kami to use. They're typically at the back of the shrine and not open to the public.

**Torii—A gate that's commonly used at the entrance of Shinto Shrines. They mark the path between the every-day world and that which is sacred.