Chapter 1

Hijikata found her in the dark alley when he was going out for a patrol. She is crying, exhausted and wounded; there is blood everywhere.

She's hugging her knees tightly, her back to the dirty wall with some garbage cans nearby.

He knows her well, not just because of the weird bond between them and Yorozuya but there are times when they've worked with each other. Partners, he might say. And had he not known about her personality, he would've given her some more respect, because he has to admit, she is very good at fighting, and has never failed to make him impressed.

She always seems like she has too much energy and is way too loud and annoying. He remembers seeing her sinister smile, insane laugh and even salivate over her loved one, but he has never seen her like this: broken and lost and full of weakness. Like a lost child, looking for her imaginary friend not knowing she would have to grow up.

Maybe, maybe this is what (who, he corrects) she actually is, she just doesn't show it. He read somewhere that those people who laugh the most are also the ones experienced the most pains.

Think about that, he realizes, they're all like this, every person he has met, miserable and hopeless yet always laughs like there is nothing in the world could ever bother them anymore. Though looking at her right now, "this" Sacchan, he still feels odd.

Because the others just keep their wounds for themselves, keep on fearing that it might destroy whoever gets to see. But this woman, it's like she doesn't even know she has lost her wings for a long time ago, and it breaks him a little bit. So instead of walking away, Hijikata's just standing there, looking down at her.

"Oi," he finally speaks, what was her name again? Stalker, perverted ninja, ugly pig?

"Ayame."

And that is how in the future, this is a day he'd wish had never happened in his messed up life.

"Go away!" She doesn't look up, her arms still covering her head and he can hear the annoyance in her voice. He wonders if she knew it was him.

Hijikata sighs, keeping silent while he leans his back against the mossy wall. A tinge of smoke from his cigarette floating above their head. Uneasy heat of summer evening and the smell of trash; the filthy puddle she is sitting in.

He ignores her too well the second time, but frowns when she starts adding fat-ass at the end of every sentence. Despise her childish insults, he closes his eyes, feeling a little unease because of the calmness he finds in the sound of her blood slowly dripping out.

Sacchan doesn't try to send him away anymore. That guy is a weirdo, she concludes. He's addicted to mayonaise and will not leave you alone if he doesn't want to. It's strange that his presence doesn't bother her that much, mostly because her head is so dizzy and at this point some guy watching her crying is the least of her problems. She had stopped crying a while ago, now she just tries not to think of anything – her love for that man, and her knowledge that with these hands of hers, she could never touch him without staining him.

Because Gin-san—Gin-san is the purest thing ever happened in her cursed life. Sure he always acts like some sort of useless lazy heartless bastard, sure he killed people—bad people, and she is very sure that she wants to touch him and do a lot of not-so-pure things with him. But it is not just that. It's the way he secretly cares about others, shelters as much people as he can and takes everything on his shoulders; the way he pulled her out of that deep dark water and let her see, for the first time, the color of the bright blue sky behind his back.

That is his color, she assumed, free and wide open and somewhat telling her there's still hope.

And his red eyes, the most gorgeous eyes she has ever seen, hiding passion and a fire that keeps people warm. He's like a fireplace surrounded by cold stones—one of the thousand reasons why she loves being around him so much, especially in those frigid days, when she could feel blood dried out under her fingernails.

He would never judge her for what she did though (of course, except for her annoying and masochistic behaviors towards him), but it only makes her feel worse. She can no longer cut through someone's throat without thinking about her hands on him, on his white hair, on his white clothes.

Today was no exception, she hesitated, again. Even though she still completed her mission and successfully killed off the target, she wounded so bad, and just as tragic as her enemies. Sacchan thinks she deserves it. She broke her own principles, she let her love life affect her job.

The sky, she can't see it. Her eyes hurt and so does her whole body. She thinks she is going to die right here, in this small gloomy fetid alley where she randomly landed on in her way to escape. She is going to die but not alone, because there is, right beside her, among garbage and cigarette filters—Hijikata, along with his usual scowling expression.

"I've just killed people," she blurts out for no apparent reason. Her voice is weak, and he can tell how close she is to crying again. "One of them… the boy, he's like... like twelve or something, I don't—I was just…"

Hijikata stares at her, drops his unfinished cigarette on the ground. His eyes focus on her small shoulders and the way they tremble uncontrollably when she starts sobbing very hard.

"He's just a kid, you know..."

Was, he was, they both think so, but neither of them say a word.

"Wanna eat my mayonnaise?" Hijikata asks, swallows the irony. This woman has basically just confessed her crime to him, and here he is, trying to comfort her.

"No...," It takes a minute for the word to come out, like she is seriously considering it, or is just surprised by his unrelated question. "It's disgusting."

"You're disgusting!"

There is a pause. Then, "… I know."

Hijikata almost screams. He has never been smart with words, and the way he manages to turn a consolation to upsetting people makes him rethink about his capability as an officer. He is supposed to talk people out of suicide, not encourage them.

"No no, I mean, you're not disgusting, so is mayonnaise. Nothing is disgusting here, okay? Especially my stuff—no, shit, you're not mine, I mean—"

Sacchan faints before he has the change to finish his clumsy explain, she's touched her limit. She doesn't collapse on the road, but her head falls sideways and her arms around her knees loose as her body, giving him the perfect view to see how much blood she has lost.

The crows cry out over his head and goosebumps drawing on his skin while he reaches down to check her breath.

A really, really long time after that, when he's standing in the crowded hall of the hospital, all the sounds disappear and his hands full of Sacchan's blood and he goes back to the day where there was a girl and how he couldn't get to say the last goodbye because he wasn't strong enough.

He was never strong enough.