[Vice Commander of the Shinsengumi, Hijikata Toshiro, has been found after four months missing. He is said to be in need of serious medical attention, including-]
-"Aren't you going to visit him, Gin-san?"
No.
"The last thing that bastard wants is me knocking around when he's tied down to a hospital bed."
-"Apparently he called for you though."
I know that.
-"Are you sure it's all right not to go?"
He wants me there.
"We'll see him when he gets better anyway."
There's no way I can see him now.
"Ketsuno Ana is currently outside the Shinsengumi barracks, trying to find out more. Ketsuno Ana?"
"Yes, I am currently outside the gates of the shinsengumi barracks where inside, Hijikata Toshiro is receiving serious medical attention after he was found four months to the date he disappeared, stumbling around the outskirts of town. It is believed that he was kidnapped by joui extremists and as of yet these criminals remain at large. The police are asking for anyone who may know anything related to this disappearance to step forward."
"Ketsuno-san, what do we know about the vice-commander's statement?"
"It is all being kept in strict confidentiality, however rumour has it that the vice-commander has no recollection of the events surrounding his disappearance. There are suspicions of drugs involved, or even severe psychological trauma. We are still awaiting a statement from the police on this matter."
"And what about the vice-commander's state?"
"The police announced him to be in a stable position after the initial scare yesterday morning. It has only been a day since he was found and still a lot of facts remain to be uncovered, however Commander Kondo Isao released a report to the press today stating that his subordinate would be getting the best medical care from within the barracks. They are also holding off on interrogation until he is in a stable enough condition to be questioned."
"Truly saddening events. We wish the vice-commander a swift and complete recovery. Despite this, the events that have unfolded these past four months demonstrate the risk that jouishishi extremists still pose to society. The Head of State for one amanto nation residing in Edo this week called the actions of these terrorists 'disgusting', stating that it is 'high time the police begin a full extermination of the remnants of the war'. According to him, the terrible crime done unto Hijikata Toshiro has only demonstrated a hole in the security of Earth and the Amanto's relationship. In an interview yesterday evening, he told our reporter that until every samurai is put to justice, the threat they pose to society will continue to exist."
[Blip, blip, blip]
The constant whine of machines barred Okita Sougo from any kind of sleep, yet it did not seem to affect the comatose Hijikata in any way. He sat upright in his seat beside the bed, eyes wide open but barely looking at anything. Sougo hadn't believed he would ever find any job that he'd revere less than paperwork, but apparently this could top it. Sitting in a room of stale air with no windows to freshen it, watching the oscillation of green lines across screens and listening to the staggered breathing of his friend on the bed … He'd much rather be filling out 100 sheets of reports. The atmosphere was suffocating.
[Blip, blip, blip, blip]
And again, his eyes wandered to the carcass before him: skin stretched taut across bone, sallow jaundiced complexion, sunken eyes into dark, sleepless sockets. A thousand reports sounded a good number. Anything to get him out of this job. His shift was over in twenty minutes but the time couldn't pass quick enough. In fact, it felt like it was slowing. He checked his watch constantly, but instead of five minutes having passed, it was only one. Nineteen more minutes.
[Blip, blip, blip]
The body stirred and Sougo jumped in his seat, heart palpitating in his chest with his hand firmly pressed to his radio. Hijikata squinted up at the lights and took an age to come round, all the while Sougo's finger was ready to squeeze the PTT button. Hazy blue eyes began to wander around the ceiling, until his body finally twitched in response. A heavy head turned towards Sougo, pinning him to the spot with a weakened, hollow glare.
"H... Hiji-...kata...-san?" It was the fifth time he had been conscious since he had passed out in the back of their police car yesterday morning. When they found him, he had been awake and walking around, a skeleton limping through a residential area muttering nonsense. Although his eyes had been open and searching and his mouth running off words, he wasn't conscious; he wasn't normal. He didn't meet their gazes, staring straight past. He didn't respond to their touches or their words, he would just keep his jumbled monologue flowing. Kondo had asked him to keep a log of what he had said, but it felt intrusive, like they had tapped into his subconscious and spilled the contents. The words wouldn't leave him though.
"Mm don't need a jacket, s'fine. Keep walkin'. Skylarks. Me? H-having ...Uhh … Walking. I didn't know. Mmf found it? S'fne. Gintoki, s'fine. Ahh, pressed the wrong button. Tama, Tame, Tamegoro, your brother, I just, help and mm … Keep walkin', you know? Have to- … Don't touch. Don't touch. I said, don't touch me. Am fine, Gintoki. Am fine. Keep walking, just walking. Radio isn't working fer me. Gintoki? C'mere?"
The vice-commander he knew didn't speak like that. It was bat-shit crazy talk, the kind of stuff that made Sougo's skin crawl because it made no sense. The prideful, hardened leader he knew had degraded into this stuttering skeleton. It made him sick. So sick. He couldn't even utter an insult, no smart comment would come. He didn't want to defame the person he once knew any further.
With a dry throat, the alien on the bed croaked his name, "... still … at the barracks?"
"Yeah." It was all he could manage.
"Has … he come?"
"No ..."
"Kondo-san … s-still hasn't seem me, … right?"
"Right." Wrong.
"Good … don... don't let hmm."
What use is your cheap pride now, you bastard? We all saw you. All of your men were there when we chased that tip-off to your whereabouts and found a starved and tortured madman wandering the streets. We all saw our commander in a way we didn't ever want to. And he … he was there. He saw, too. And I'm sure that's why he won't come here.
"Ah, text from Kondo-san," Shinpachi said, trying to balance himself on the ladder so he could hold on with one hand and read the message on his phone with the other. At the top of the ladder, Gintoki stiffened. "He's awake again and they've given him something to eat. He asked to see you again as well. What should I say?"
"What do you think?" Gintoki spat, continuing to rub the window he was cleaning with greater velocity than before. "We're busy here, dammnit. Some of us have to work to pay their wage."
"You don't pay anybody's wage, Gin-san," Shinpachi flat-lined.
"He wants Gin-chan to go so they can be lovey-dovey in the hospital room like on that drama we watched yesterday."
"Who the hell wants to do that?" Gintoki slung the damp cloth in his hand at Kagura's face. She let go of the ladder to wipe her cheeks and the two people on it screamed as it tipped.
"Kagura-chan, the ladder!" Shinpachi clung on for dear life.
"Ah, right," she mumbled, taking back hold on the bottom of the ladder.
"Pass me another window leather." Gintoki called and the item was thrown from Kagura to Shinpachi, and then from Shinpachi to Gintoki at the top. He tried to distract himself by scrubbing again.
The problem was, he could see his reflection staring right back at him in the glass.
"That's good, Hijikata-san. We'll have you walking again by the end of the week, I'm sure."
Yamazaki and Kondo quickly grabbed Hijikata under the armpits to catch him as he reached the end of the handrail. It was three weeks on and all he had done for the last eight days was drag himself an inch further across the handrail until today he had crossed the entire six foot walk all on his own. He tried to shuffle across to the bed again but his legs gave a shake and then completely collapsed from under him. Yamazaki and Kondo held him firmly and settled him on the edge of the bed. He still needed their hands supporting his back to keep him from falling.
"Ridiculous," he grunted between pants. That six foot had taken it all out of him and he was wheezing for air, feeling slightly dizzy and very sick from just a few steps. He lifted his hands and cursed at the fragility of the two palms facing him. His wrists were narrow enough to grip between his thumb and little finger, his bones were rigid mountains across the backs of his hands and each nub of bone at each joint was an obvious and swollen ball compared to the rest of his hands. "Disgusting." He said until Kondo laid his hands across Hijikata's upturned palms.
"We'll get there." He assured and his tone was so warm that Hijikata felt a lump form in his throat. "Look how far you've come already."
"Vice-commander," the doctor interrupted and smiled broadly. "If you're not too tired, let's get you washed."
A shiver ran down Hijikata's spine and though he tried his best to hide it, when your spine was the most prominent bone in your body, just one tremble racked your entire being. He wanted to return to the days where they had washed his body with a cloth. It was disgusting to think about how much grime he had collected during those days and how much it had stung his pride, but anything was better than a bath.
Lowering himself into a body of water.
He felt cold all over and Kondo must have noticed his already terrible complexion drop a few degrees further.
"We can do it later if you want?"
"Y-yeah." He nodded quickly. "Please."
The subject hadn't been broached yet but Hijikata could feel it coming like a tidal wave of anxiety and fear ready to swallow him. Ever since he had returned after what they now called, 'the incident', any collection of water in more than a bottle sized amount felt like it could seize him in its grasp and drown him without even a struggle. A sink-full of warm water to wash his face clogged his lungs with tar; a bath was beyond terrifying, and he loathed himself for it.
Whether his new-found fear was the product of mental trauma, his current vulnerability and lack of strength, or … an actual trauma … the fear wouldn't go away. At night-time, he dreamed of drowning in its viscosity, the treacle-like fluid blocking his airways and dragging him deeper than he could escape from. He woke up choking, the lack of oxygen petrifying his limbs so that he couldn't even call for help. He was trapped in his own body, gagging, spluttering alone until at long last the air seemed to thin out and become breathable.
No, water was not good for him.
"The yorozuya really must be busy, though," Kondo hummed. "His kids have been round several times but never once their master." Hijikata felt himself rock backwards until the hands on his back steadied him again. "You okay?"
"Mmm."
Was he fuck.
He was sure Gintoki had been told about his situation. Heck, who didn't know? It was common knowledge. They'd be putting it on entrance exams soon. So where was he?
In Hijikata's darkest nights where he'd called out for help, Gintoki hadn't been there.
On days where he'd felt so much pain and dishonour that he had considered taking his own life, Gintoki hadn't been there.
On mornings where he wanted to see that head of curls beside him just to give him a reason to open his eyes, Gintoki hadn't been there.
And when he had taken his first steps, he was absent. When he had eaten solid food for the first time, there wasn't so much as a message. Three weeks.
Hijikata feared that during his four months absence, Gintoki had changed his mind. Even though he had declared his love for the vice-commander just days before Hijikata's memories faded out, perhaps he had moved on in that time, kissed another, shared body heat with another ... made love to another.
Even worse, maybe Hijikata had dreamt their whole relationship as a way of getting through the torture, a defence mechanism that played on his deepest desires to give him pleasure during whatever had happened in that time.
He needed to know why the only man he had called out for was the only man not running to him.
"- someone of his description found around the far side of town, near Z district -" Gintoki barely felt his toes touch the bottom of his boots before he raced out into the morning light. Sougo continued talking in his ear. He sounded out of breath so he was probably running, too. This was it. Their first sighting in four months. Gintoki had cut himself off emotionally until now: Hijikata was dead. No terrorist would keep him alive for long, it posed too high a risk. He was dead, he believed it entirely.
Until now.
All his doubts had been thrown away because they would only slow him down. He raced through the streets and knew that Kagura wasn't going to be far behind. She must have heard the phone call come and definitely would have heard Gintoki slamming round the apartment. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead. His mind was shackled with the images of his lover: the small smiles he let slip; the funny face he pulled when he tried not to laugh; the way he kept eye contact with Gintoki the whole time they were making love as though etching the memory into his retinas. He had missed that. He had missed him so much that it only felt like now that his heart had begun to beat again. What had happened this past month? It was all a blur and none of it mattered any more.
He was alive.
Gintoki shuddered to a halt as he reached the location Sougo had described. He heard the sirens of police cars approaching and saw the shadows of soldiers searching every street. He didn't stop to talk to them. Instead, he headed in the opposite direction – they had to spread out. They had to diffuse across the entire town to find him. They couldn't let this slip.
God, if this was a joke - …
Please let this not be a joke.
Gintoki passed through an alleyway out to the other side of the street. It all looked the same. Everywhere was empty – of course it was. It was 3am, why would anybody be awake? Yet the town was crawling with life as every inch of grass was swept, every pebble passed. They could not miss this. Gintoki set into a run again, it wasn't aiding the search, he knew, but it made him feel better, helped to erase the panic in his chest. They hadn't found him yet – Sougo would call him as soon as he was spotted and his mobile had been silent for too long now. He was beginning to feel his throat constrict and his breathing became laboured. Hijikata wasn't here. He wasn't-
The second Gintoki spotted a familiar figure hobbling across the distance, Sougo was on his speed dial and his feet tore up the ground under him. He called his name, screamed it.
"HIJIKATA!"
But the closer he got, the less he recognised the figure. The silhouette limped under the gentle glow of a street light and it's bone-thin figure became apparent. It wasn't him. It couldn't be – he knew the wide expanse of his lover. He would recognise those broad shoulders, those narrow hips he loved to grip between his hands. That person's back was arched, not straight. Hijikata always walked with pride and grace. Hijikata was -
Gintoki stopped. The figure had turned towards him and a weak, far-off gaze met his … Instead of stormy blue eyes, they were a pale grey. Instead of smooth, slick dark hair it was thin and wispy – at points, grey even. The man before him was starved and beaten, bruised until his grey pallor was purple, broken until his bones looked deformed through that unmistakeable black uniform. Gintoki heard the pounding of boots racing to meet him, but he didn't turn. He didn't flinch. He felt dizzy.
Who was this unrecognisable figure?
"Gin...toki?" The man gasped through a raspy throat, stumbling forwards with hands outstretched towards him and he despised the expression of whole-hearted relief in the skeleton's eyes.
Gintoki didn't know this person. He didn't know someone so fragile and breakable.
"Vice-commander!" The shinsengumi screamed in his ear, taking the man into their arms and holding him steady. "Hijikata-san! Hijikata-san!"
Gintoki didn't know him. He didn't. He turned around, feeling himself sway. His feet skimmed the ground, catching his toe-cap in the dust and tripping him. He kept walking. Someone called his name again behind him but he didn't know that person. So he kept walking.
That wasn't him.
That wasn't him.
That was not Hijikata Toshiro.
"That's enough for today," Kondo soothed, rubbing Hijikata's spine with slow, gentle swirls. It gave him great pleasure that the bones beneath his fingers were coated in more than just skin, and muscle had begun to knot itself across his back. They were making progress, slowly but steadily. "We'll have to get some more food down you now," he noted as Hijikata wiped sick from around his mouth. Hijikata looked disgruntled and upset – the exercise he had just done wouldn't even pass for a warm-up to his past self and yet there he was, retching his guts into a bucket.
"I wanna keep going." He said; it came out as a pained moan. He clutched his stomach and heaved again, redirecting himself over the bucket.
"We'll do some more tomorrow." Kondo gave him a small tap and offered him a bottle of water. Once the gagging had stopped, Hijikata took small sips. He really wanted to down the whole thing, but he knew he'd just empty it all back into the bucket if he did that. This was just one of a hundred things he'd had to learn to control. He couldn't eat a lot, drink a lot or exercise a lot; getting up quickly was also a no-go and bending down to pick things up was something he had only just become able to do.
A part of him begged to know what had happened to him those four months.
The rest of him passionately rejected the incident, he feared it. He knew that remembering would help the investigation bring the culprits to justice but at the back of his mind, a dark place threatened to take hold. The place where he had locked away anything to do with it. At some point during his ordeal, he had shut down completely and only woken when he was returned home. The little fragments he did remember floated around, occasionally passing to his conscious. Those moments terrified him enough to lock them away again. Whatever had happened had degraded him to this. The most he knew for certain was that he had been starved, beaten and burned – the physical scars of that still remained. Then, he had several hints towards drowning and choking … the rest he didn't want to know.
He even avoided getting involved in the investigation. He had seen notes, scraps of information scattered in Yamazaki's diary. There was a record of his dreams he was forced to write and even sketches of all his injuries. Those things he already knew about. He wasn't aware, however, about the transcribe of his sleep-talking. Reading that had been scary, to say the least. And it didn't make sleep come any easier to him.
From then onwards, he decided to leave the investigation to Kondo.
He had noticed that his men looked at him differently now. At first, a lot of them seemed uncomfortable being around him, shuffling in seats and roaming eyes. Some couldn't hide their shocked glances at his body. That was to be expected. As time passed, he found them being much warmer to him than they had ever been – men who would thump him on the back began to offer to make him a drink instead. There was a shift from those around him behaving like teenage boys on a school trip, to them acting like friends.
He knew what it was – pity.
And he utterly despised it.
But he knew that as he grew stronger and began to return to his old self, these things would right themselves. There was just one thing that hadn't started on the long road to repair, and that one thing bothered him the most. Four weeks had passed and still Gintoki hadn't come to the barracks. Hijikata was burning to know why. He could deal with anything he said to him, anything at all. He just could not cope with being apart from him.
That thought empowered him and an idea blinked into his head. It was crazy and Kondo would definitely hate it … but he had to. He had to go to where Gintoki was.
Gintoki joyfully sprinkled a good dose of sugar onto the warm pancakes he had just made, humming a tune as he did so. His mouth was practically drooling already and as soon as he had finished dousing the goods in chocolate, they would be inhaled into his system. It was the only thing that cheered him up after a full morning of arguing with the kids. Shinpachi was adamant that Gintoki should go to see Hijikata now, and Gintoki knew he was right …
There was just too much holding him back. He couldn't think straight. The most prominent image in his mind was of the man he had seen that night and it still haunted him. And, like a landslide caused by a tsunami, he was drowned in a secondary pain – guilt. An unbearable guilt because his lover had endured four months of torture and he had turned his back on him. It made him feel sick. He hated himself for it. The image still burned his eyes, day and night. Then, because of the battle going on between these two emotions, now four weeks had passed. Hijikata must absolutely hate him by now. He must feel betrayed, hurt. Gintoki had broken something between them and that would never, ever be fixed. The messages for him to come over had stopped, of course they would.
Who would want him now?
Gintoki stuffed his mouth with chocolate and tried to move his mind on swiftly. Love wasn't something he had ever looked for anyway. He wasn't cut out for it; what he had experienced now was evidence enough. It also cut him deep knowing that he had given up on ever finding Hijikata. He had killed him in his head, laid to rest his memory and mourned for him. Whilst the shinsengumi were out searching day and night, by month three, Gintoki had broken down in his room alone. He stopped searching. He stopped hoping. He screamed into an empty apartment with the warmth of Hijikata's body still in his bed, his scent still infecting Gintoki's senses.
In the end, his mind kept wandering back.
The phone rang and Gintoki meandered across to take the call, sucking the chocolate and sugar coating his fingers one by one and wiping the rest on his white yukata.
"Y'ello," he swallowed the rest of the pancake. "Yorozuya here."
"Sakata-san! Is Tosshi with you?" Kondo Isao probably didn't realise it, but he was shouting and Gintoki had to move the receiver away from his throbbing ear.
"Huh? Hijikata? Course he's not with me. He's with y-" realisation hit him hard. "He's gone?!"
"We can't find him anywhere." Gintoki felt everything turn upside down.
"What?!" There was a sense of tasteless deja vous as he raced to the door and nearly collided with it, the phone discarded in the living room. He nearly decided that shoes would only slow him down, but in the end ragged a pair on because a cut foot would most definitely hinder him. As he flung open the door, he was met face to face with Hijikata.
"You-!" Gintoki was panting, but not as much as he noticed Hijikata to be. The man took a pace backwards to hold onto the balcony railing, keeping firm eye contact with Gintoki despite standing on bambi legs.
Ahh, those were the eyes he had missed.
The strong storm in his eyes glared down into Gintoki's soul. Gintoki opened his mouth to speak, finding with alarm that he could not. What in the world could he say to him anyway?
"Gintoki … I," Hijikata began. He looked healthier, brighter. His skin was shining, his hair glossy. He wasn't the build he had been, but he didn't look starved any more, just underfed. "Why didn't you come to see me?" He asked and even his words sounded hurt. Gintoki didn't need to look at his expression to feel the ache in Hijikata. "Why?" He asked again and this time he staggered to keep himself upright. Gintoki immediately caught him and dragged his limp body inside, slamming the door shut with his foot.
He slid his arms around the thin hips he had come to adore, gently lifting him and moving him onto the sofa. As he did so, trembling fingers laced into his yukata and held on tight, a face burying into his chest accompanied by hoarse breathing. Hijikata wouldn't let go when Gintoki tried to pull away. He stilled, though he didn't resist much. How long had it been now, five months? God, he had missed this. He took a deep, shuddering breath so that he could even taste Hijikata in his mouth. Savour this, his brain said. So he did. He gripped Hijikata so tightly that it must have hurt him. He slipped from Hijikata's grasp onto his knees so that his nose was pushed between Hijikata's thighs where he hid a crescendo of sobs. The fingers that knotted into his hair forgave him. Light kisses to the back of his neck accepted his apology. And all of this he knew he didn't deserve. He continued to moan in absolute agony because he had no words for Hijikata – he was unforgivable and yet the warmth of kisses kept coming. He tilted his head to look up and those kisses littered his forehead, his cheekbones, his nose. They pecked at the tears running down his face.
"Hijikata," he called. The response was warm, loving. What had he done to deserve this man? "Hijikata. Hijikata." Lips met his and he pushed back with force, desperately needing this man and his soul forever to be with him. Never again would he let this man slip away. This was the last time he gave up on Hijikata Toshiro. From now on, they were sealed to the grave.
They remained like this, Gintoki leaning into Hijikata's lap with his hand ruffling through silver bangs, right up until the whole of the shinsengumi rocked up at his place with sirens blaring. Even when Kondo Isao, who hadn't known of their relationship before, practically broke down the door to get inside, neither of them were willing to move.
Thankfully, no one seemed in a rush to separate them either.