While his ears had still not adjusted to the shock of whatever that noise was, the feel of metal striking down at his sword - thick, heavy, not a sword - was enough to kick-start Okita's instincts. As long as the men had blades instead of guns, he could deal with them even with his eyes closed. He just had to read their moves, hope they were as predictable as the samurai back in Kyoto, and he would come out of this with his head still on his shoulders.

He'd missed his initial thrust, but now he knew approximately where the man was. When the blade jumped in his hands, Okita slid his foot back and brought the sword up again to protect his body. He had no way of knowing if this was the right move, but it was the one he would take. Knock the opponent's blade away and then cut across the body. The soldier had a shorter sword, not unlike the thing he'd given away a few nights ago. He would be more maneuverable.

This wasn't going to end well.

When the short sword connected to Okita's blade, he pushed back and grit his teeth. They needed to get out of here, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it.