Okita reflexively jerked back slightly when Homura reached out to take his hand. Even though the touch was gentle, Okita's instinct was strong and he disliked the feeling of anyone hold his hand. It meant he had one less to have open should an enemy come at them - not that enemies were around during the day, but Okita could never be too careful. His eyes went to Homura's hand and he stared at it as Homura made his request.

It wasn't a question he couldn't answer, but it wasn't one he exactly liked to think of. As the demi-god raised Okita's hand to his lips, Okita stiffened, but didn't pull away. With Homura looking at him like that, he couldn't - nor could he avert his gaze. This was a test and he could overcome it. "Honestly?" he repeated, the traces of his earlier smile slowly fading. If Homura wanted honesty, he'd give it to him. "I simply dislike being touched unless absolutely necessary. People's hands are unclean." Okita paused and looked down at his hand again. He could feel Homura's breath on his skin and the last of his smile disappeared. He knew the disease couldn't transfer anymore, but old habits were hard to break. Moving to pull his hand away finally, he said, "And so are mine."