"You'll be the first person to ever hold still while I tied them up, Guy-san. But thank you." That ghost of a smile was enough to buoy Okita's spirits and he smiled back, a little more genuinely this time. It was a comfort to see Guy believing in him, trusting in him again. The past few days had been rough and the following days, only worse, but for now they were just going to believe that maybe it wouldn't be. Okita recognized this feeling. He remembered feeling it as he sat on the rooftop, watching the fireworks with Hijikata and Kondou like they had in days of old.

But that was a memory he could not linger on. As Guy started eating again, Okita turned away and went to his bed, pulling the bedsheets off it and leaving them in a heap on the mattress. Leaning down, he pulled his sword out from its usual hiding place in the bed frame and then sat on the bed. Looking at the blade now, he remembered how a few nights ago this had been through his shoulder. There were nicks in the blade and as he ran his fingers over it, eyes closed, he could feel the imperfections. At a glance, it still seemed fine, but his fingertips could pick up the dips and scars from battle and Okita smiled slightly. A samurai's sword was indeed their soul.

He opened his eyes and started cutting nicks into the bedsheet, spacing the cuts out to give each piece of makeshift rope enough strength to hold a man. He glanced up to make sure Guy was eating and then went back to his work as he marveled at Guy's honesty. Okita could never just come right out and say that. He could never just say that he was dying, that he was carrying a disease that had the potential to kill everyone here. As he set down his sword and ripped the first strip off, Okita called out, "You truly are an amazing person, you know that?"