If he had been asked yesterday what his plans for the weekend were, Okita would have said, "the usual." The usual, to Okita, was planning new ways to usurp the Vice-commander's position, and executing them. Of course, an uneasy truce was declared on Saturday night, but only for an hour when Okita's drama was on. The weekends, whenever Okita wasn't on duty, went like this:
10:00 --Think about getting up.
10:01--Go back to sleep.
11:00--Get woken up by Hijikata/Kondo/Yamazaki being insanely loud in or near his room.
11:01--Go back to sleep.
12:00--Get up to eat.
12:30-22:00 --Do various miscellaneous activities such as brainstorming, scouting, espionage, blackmail, and training.
22:00-23:00 --Watch TV drama.
23:30 --Sneak in and take out the batteries in Hijikata's alarm clock just in case he gets called up for duty on Sunday.
23:35--Sleep and repeat on Sunday.
This weekend had spilled over to Monday, due to Kondo drinking far too much and sleeping the whole of Sunday. Thus Okita was stuck with his weekend routine on Monday. Except it was anything but routine. Okita seemed to have stepped into a bizarre anime this "weekend." He was wearing a blue and white kimono and black boots. A bokuto was strapped around his hips with a thin black belt. And, worst of all, he was staring into china blue eyes. Those eyes were far too big, far too wide. The girl who stood stuck between him and the wall had been struggling, but now was still. Time had stopped. Sounds had been silenced.
"Did you do that," he said, breaking the silence, "because it was me, or because I looked like him?"