Fighter
Please make the blood go away.
Okita X Kagura

The sky is dark and rain is furiously beating down on her as she does nothing to shield herself – her torn and battered purple umbrella is carelessly thrown to a side on the rough concrete she sits on. Her cheongsam is a deep shade of red – similar to the blood liquid her hands were stained with, and with silent cries she wills the rain to wash it away.

She is crying.

The pink hair he calls obnoxious is clumped together in thick, wet strands, and the stray bangs matted against her forehead are shielding dark, unseeing eyes and he tests the waters.

"Oi, China."

She is silent.

He doesn't know how to deal with such a girl. This kind of Kagura. His rival – who shouts, eats and fights. He has never been able to communicate well with girls (she has always been the only exception), has never bothered to, has never wanted to.

He gets out of the car, and feels the cold water hit him.

He touches her gingerly, gently, and her pale skin is cold and clammy – she shivers at the slightest touch and he cringes. She turns towards him, and she speaks.

"Aren't you scared?"

Her voice is coarse, timid and small, and he sees a glimmer in her eyes, but he doesn't know what she's hoping for –

He does not know what he's doing, but he holds her hands and notices that they are small and pale, filled with unseen scars and so, so capable of taking away lives – and lifts them up, settles her palms against his sodden clothes, the only barrier between his chest. Between them.

"I'm not afraid."

A/N. Okita x Kagura love! Anyway, pimping my writing journal - (paintingkell. livejournal. com)