Extraterrestrial

Disclaimer: If I owned Gintama, Gintoki and Hijikata would have already killed each other. Ha

A/N: I should actually be doing something with my life. Not crying over OTPs

He knew that humans believed Hell to be a prison of burning souls and agony but it was in fact, the complete opposite. The closer you got to The Middle, the world around you became shrouded in a grey tone and slicing cold and when you were at the core, Hell was not a burning prison but a bitter snow land, or so he was told. He only looked straight ahead as he slowly walked down the labyrinth and gradually, the grey walls became tinted with frost and he was able to make out his breath in the dark air. There was no demon in sight and when he dared a glance back, the way he had come from was swallowed up in darkness. He turned back around to face the continuing path and tried not to think about the possibility that he was hopelessly lost and that the only lead he had, had with how cold it was getting was really just a myth made up by demons who had never actually been to The Middle. Trying to calm himself, he listened to the soft tap of his boots against the ice bellow, and replayed the conversation that had led to this hollow maze.

A gatekeeper from The Middle handed him a letter with a firm nod. "Toshiro Hijikata." He simply stated before he turned on his heels and walked quickly back towards The Middle. Hijikata looked to the retreating man, a confused look crossing his hard face before he turned his attention to the letter handed to him while he was on Hell gatekeeper duty. No one usually came to him while he was on duty except for souls from the Human World or traitors of Hell, but especially not demons from The Middle. He peered curiously at the folded plain, beige letter; there was nothing intricate about it or was there even a signature. Just plain old paper and honestly he was slightly wary of opening its contents, expecting perhaps an order from Satan for his soul to be put on a silver platter and served to him. After receiving several weird looks for standing next to Hell's Gate while staring intensely at some plain paper, he slowly unfolded it to see three words, not even grammatically correct.

'The Middle. Come.'

And once again, he was staring at those three words like his life depended on it and every passing second, the urge to rip the paper to shreds became bolder. What the fuck did it mean? Was someone playing a prank on him? Seriously, who even spoke like that or had grammar that bad? Unless a foreigner of course. Hijikata wasn't a perfectionist or even grammar Nazi or anything of that sort, but why was someone who wasn't exactly great at English giving him orders through a letter? Couldn't they possibly have gotten someone else to write for them? And why was he even so irritated at the stupid letter? And even looking beyond that, who was giving him orders? All these questions were slightly giving him anxiety and it was curiosity that was keeping him from burning the "letter". He let out a sigh and took out a cigarette but stopped himself when another annoying question rang through his mind. What if this wasn't a prank and there was actually purpose in the very grammatically incorrect letter? Even before his cigarette reached his mouth, he threw it on the ground and stamped on it, out of sheer habit.

Just as his thought chain ended, his anger was fueled again because this was probably just a prank but it was too late to go back if the dark behind him was anything to go by. But, a dim light was glowing through the cold grey air and left him with strange relief as he sped up his steps. The glow was getting closer and the colder was cutting his cheeks but he was almost jogging as he passed through the glaring light.

When he found his sense of direction, he was facing yet another path and he cursed under his breath as he put a cigarette on his tongue, holding out his lighter under it. He was just about to flick the fire on when a flash of silver caught his eye and he put his lighter back in his pocket to see what the hell just flashed past him. He walked quietly down the same looking ice path but in the distance he saw a huge door made entirely of dull silver which gleamed occasionally. He looked up and saw that where the ceiling ended and door started was faded into glass and the sun broke through the grey and shined brilliantly on the dull, silver door.

Hijikata tentatively touched the cold, silver door rail and took a deep breath in before pushing on it. The door must have not been opened in a while as it would not budge and he pushed with his shoulder before he tried pulling on it. To his embarrassment, it opened with a small squeak and he had to looked around to make sure no one had witnessed his humiliation. With a slightly flushed face and a vein popping on his forehead, he stood at the entrance and took in the room.

It was more of an empty cell than a room, with clean white walls and shadows covering the back of it. When Hijikata was about to turn back, a low laugh came from the shadows and Hijikata blamed curiosity for taking him towards the sound.

He found a man with silver hair and a white yukata sitting against the wall with chains connecting his arms to the ceiling and legs to the walls and a metal vest. Probably to keep him from using his wings, he thought. From under his slightly long silver hair, he could see a toothy grin and blood on his lips and cheek.

"Don't you know how to open a door Hijikata Toshiro?" The man laughed up at him.

"I fucking do, asshole! And how do you know my name?!" Hijikata, grabbed the man's collar without thinking.

The man shook his silver hair out of his eyes and his grin was gone. All humor and mirth was absent from his voice as he spoke.

"Satan's been waiting for you."

"Don't fuck with me, did you send me that letter?"

"Nah, someone from The Middle."

His red eyes bore into Hijikata's and he let go of the man like he was burnt.

"Shiroyasha." He muttered under his breath as he stood back up.

Every demon in Hell knew of the famed Shiroyasha. Once he was known as a noble demon who fought alongside Satan, but turned against him and started an uprising for reasons still unknown to the world. He had been captured alive and his comrades killed, and when he refused to speak, he was put in a prison and was currently waiting for his execution to be called.

And here he was. The Shiroyasha was here right in front of him, vulnerable and bleeding, glaring up at him with red eyes which screamed lost fire and fight.

As he looked into the Shiroyasha's eyes, he wanted nothing more than to rekindle that once alive danger, he could feel the desire deep in his chest and strangely, he didn't hate the feeling.

Should I continue this or should I stop giving my friends lies as to why I can't hang?

Reviews would be very very welcome!