His smile returned and Okita added the dead leaves to the pile of weeds and other trimmings he'd been making. So long as Jaime never mentioned the sickness again, he was certain they wouldn't have many more problems. Or so he hoped. The last thing Okita wanted to do was to harm a young boy. He'd done enough of that in the war; killing countless roshi who had only been fighting for what they believed in. "Thank you," he said, the sincerity in his voice evident for once.

It had been bad enough watching Hijikata put on a brave face as the medicines and teas he prepared did nothing to stop the pain. Okita didn't want to see Homura do the same thing. He not only didn't know how to cure the disease, but despite being half-mortal, he had probably never seen someone die of sickness. It would be traumatic, for him and for Okita's other friends, and the swordsman wanted to spare them the realization of that horror as long as possible.

But it never did any good to dwell and Okita wasn't particularly fond of doing it. Resting his chin in his uninjured hand, Okita smiled pleasantly at Jaime and asked, "So... Did you have any other questions about the History Club?"