Surrealism at once overtakes reality at the jarringly familiar sound of his name on that voice, the insufferably playful lilt, half-mocking. It's the feeling of going home, slipping out of his shoes, and hanging up his coat only to look up and remember it burned down months ago. He blinks once, slow, then again, but the apparition of Okita Souji does not disappear.

He shifts in a gradual, careful movement, every muscle in him tense and blood pounding in his ears, world tunneling into Souji and Souji alone. Yet warrior instincts will not let him ignore the creatures elsewhere in the cave. He makes an effort not to attract their attention, reaching for Souji with agonizing slowness, numb fingers finally bumping into solid flesh and bone.

"Souji..." he rasps, swallowing hard. He can't grip Souji's shoulder like he wants, can't pull him in, can't hold him, hold him so tightly their bones ache, can't apologize or speak the truth of how much he has missed this, missed him, missed all of it—

There are creatures, and a stranger is speaking. The stranger sounds young and even more out of his depth. So Toshi's fingers bump against Souji, briefly squeezing his shoulder before withdrawing.

"There's... beasts, over there," he informs in a low growl, turning to take stock of the stranger in their midst. "Kid, how old are you? Any good in a fight?"