Crimson and Silver Dreams

by memo ouji-sama

And he continues to dream of a foreign land, warm smiles and eyes so alike his own. And he'll keep on hearing their loving voices calling him 'Silver Prince'. Then Gintoki will open his eyes and the dreams would stop and all he'll remember is holding on to a katana in a field of corpses with no memory of who he was before Shouyo-sensei found him.

This one shot will be about Gintoki's past before he met Shouyou-sensei, well, his past according to me and what he 'remembers'. Thus, please expect out of characterness, alternated facts and omitted things. I am very descriptive so please expect an over described settings.

I do not own GinTama and its characters.

He remembers this scene playing out before him because he already witnessed it a hundred of times already in his dreams. He remembers the high stone walls surrounding the high opulent palace. Armed guards standing at their positions: at the gates, atop the walls, in the turrets surrounding the palace, beside every doors, below every windows, scattered in the hallways, equally distributed and beside the doors of important people residing within the palace of silver and gold and red. Upon looking around the wide room he is in for a hundred of times already, he can point where everything is placed without turning his head to look. The heavy door made of oak wood, embellished with gems and silver and gold, polished to perfection with a golden knob would be located at the far right, opposite one of the wide windows, a few steps would be the wooden low waist-high bookshelf and drawers that leads to a desk below a lampshade beside a wide bed filled with pillows covered in crimson velvet sitting atop the equally crimson covers of the bed with the silver velvet quilts embroidered with silver silk threads. The high posters of the bed holding thick curtains made of gold silks and velvet currently held by silver silks leaving the white satin surrounding the bed, swaying gently with the wind. At the foot of the bed is a bench lined with comfortable cushions covered in the same color of the bed. Beside the bed is the same desk below a lampshade.

At the left side of the room near the bed sat a door that leads to a walk in closet. A few steps would be another door that leads to the bathroom that contains a wide mirror above a sink, a toilet, a bath tub and a shower; all in the color of white and gold. A little door at the corner covered by a folding cover that connects to the closet. In between the two doors is a huge painting of a beautiful scenery of the sun setting upon the lake surrounded by the thick foliage, casting a golden glow to reflect on the waters.

On the far corner of the left wall is fireplace below a painting of a child with curly bluish silver hair, a small smirk and a mischievous glint in his red eyes half-massed in boredom. The child no older than 5 was clad in a white military garment, decorated with gold sash, ropes and gold buttons with his hand folded in his lap and the other holding a gold crown embellished with rubies, on his pointer finger and his other fingers folded in a lax manner. The child's, obviously a prince, posture projects boredom, elegance and mischief. Below it is a holder that held an o'tanto, a wakizashi below it then a katana. In front of the fireplace are two cushions adjacent to each other, made of dark wood and silver velvet decorated with reds and golds. In front of the cushions is a glass table that reflects the fire that is currently burning.

Beside is a wall to ceiling window, a high back-chair made of gold and red cushions placed crookedly in front of it. A wide wood bookshelf holding amounts of literature pieces beside the window. Directly in opposite of the bed is another window with a long sofa placed for the leisure of viewing and a low desk, and another window and another with lampshades in between. A wide desk is placed in front of the last window, filled with papers and books and feather pens and inks and a high backed chair sitting at the back.

The walls, red and gold and silver, holds paintings: above the bed, on the right wall and above the lamps beside the bed. Then the floor covered in burnt gold carpet.

He memorized it all already. He remembers it all. Some times, he'd be sitting behind the desk; reading and writing in texts so foreign yet so familiar in words he can't understand yet understands. Some times, he'd be outside, in a wide clearing with target dummies, holding a wooden sword while looking at an armored man's front and copying the stances and sword forms being presented. Everything would be all clear except the man's face. He cam almost hear the man's voice, speaking to him foreign words he can't hear but understands and follows all the same. Most of the times, he'd be sitting in his chair in front of the wall-to-ceiling window overlooking the castle's wide garden where different blooming flowers are plenty, a little ways is a river running from the mountains hidden by trees and bushes.

There'd be instances where he is with other foreign people aside from the armored man. There are the maids who seem to fuss whenever he scratch his skin, an scholarly old man, a young lady musician, noble kids in opulent garments and many others but his favorite are the pale man with long hair with its color hue same as his own and sharp red-eyes and a woman with long curly black hair with beautiful sapphire eyes which are most of the time half-massed and shows nonchalance. For some reason, they are his most favored people that he hopes that whenever he starts dreaming of this foreign land, they'll be there laughing, playing or just plainly there with him.

In these dreams he feels as though the void inside him fills. He feels complete and his wary soul finds solace and peace. He is happy and content and he wish this would last forever.

But all is not meant to be because...

When Gintoki woke that morning, dreams forgotten, he feels like something felt missing. He rubbed his heart. It aches.

That day started out normal; get out of home, meet a trouble or two, meet the bakufu dogs otherwise known as the Shinsengumi, bump into Madao or Zura and do whatever they usually do. However, when the sun just sat over the horizon, Yamazaki purposely seek them out. Fortunately for that Jimmy-kun, they were just lounging at Otose's snack shop when he was looking for them to deliver an invitation.

"Chief Kondo, Danna."

"What? That old geezer still celebrates his birthday?"

"Well," he scratched his cheek bashfully and Gintoki just stared with his usual nonchalance, "it's actually a birthday surprise. Chief is not aware of it. The Shinsengumi planned it. With the way things are going right now, we thought we should relax once in a while. Kind of Shinsengumi party."

"I am aware that you know we're not part of you, bakufu dogs. So I demand a reason why we are being included in this little party of yours, Jimmy-kun."

"It's Yamazaki, danna! Not Jimmy-kun!"

"Sounds the same to me."

"Cruel, danna! Anyway, you may not be part of the organization but we know Chief considers you his friend and we at the Shinsengumi respect you and at times see you as a superior to us. You know, with how you seem to always save and bust our asses out of troubles, danna. So please consider this invitation a Thank You card." Somehow, Yamazaki saw something flashed within danna's eyes. He was silent and looking pensive at the inivitation. Yamazaki was so sure danna is going to reject and he won't be surprise if he is. He was preparing to go when danna answered him.

"Hmm, well, there's going to be free food and sake so expect me and the kids to come to that blasted party of yours."

Yamazaki grinned.

"Just prepare my chocolate and strawberry pafait."

Yamazaki cried an affirmative before going off.

Yamazaki thought if the free food was really the reason danna is going to the party. He smiled. No it's not.

When Gintoki announced to Kagura and Shinpachi what Yamazaki told him, they were surprised. Why, they usually had to convince him very hard for him to agree and come to any celebration hosted by the police! When they asked why he accepted, he said about the free food and sake they could eat. Kagura and Shinpachi may be airhead at times but they are not completely oblivious. They just nodded.

They knew there was something more. And they knew Gintoki knows that they know.

Next evening, they found themselves at the Shinsengumi headquarters among the black wearing policemen. Gintoki and the kids stood out with their white, blue and red clothing. But despite the difference in clothing, they blended in almost immediately with the others having known some of them already. When Yamazaki saw danna, he immediately brought him his parfait.

Surprisingly, neither fight nor argument broke out between Kagura, Okita, Hijikata and Gintoki.

It was when Hijikata swiped his eyes around when he saw Gintoki seating at a corner, drinking a bottle of sake alone in a subdued way. He never saw the other like that; eyes distant as if he is not there and maybe he is. At least his mind. The way he lifts and pour got Hijikata thinking that it is merely his body's memory of drinking that lets him drink and move at all. He frowned. That's not like the usual Yorozuya he knows. With the way he acts, Hijikata can even be convinced that the real one got abducted and this one's just an impostor.

When shouts of amusement rang out, he moved his eyes to the center of attraction and saw Kondo telling his subordinates stories from his childhood. He tried to participate by listening. After Kondo finished, another took his place and another then another and even China girl and Glasses boy told their share.

"But you know, there's someone's past we never really know among us." A pirate said. (Zura who somehow snuck in.) The men murmured. The pirate swerved his eyes and landed on a lone Gintoki, unaware of the stares and brewing ganging up. "Right, Gintoki?" Captain Katsura prodded.

And whatever trance he was in broke.

"W-what?" He said with uncertainty.

Now, Okita is by no means an honest man. He is rude, he lies, he is manipulative above his mile long sadistic streak. He never gives his respect easily and only a few have it; his dead sister, Chief Kondo, Gintoki and to an extent HIjikata and Matsudaira. The other four mentioned because of obvious reasons and Gintoki because he is something else.

When he looks at danna, he sees something different. Beneath the lazy, no-good idiot is a person deeper than anyone he knows. Danna is entirely another league of his own. But sometimes, he can't help but see himself at danna. Danna has a sadistic streak same or even longer than his own, he lies and he is manipulative, brutally honest and rude. He is not exactly a good citizen but danna also have that light that pulls people at his side, he is kind and he'll even say caring, he has a bushido that adapts and adjusts but what really pulled him, Okita Sougo towards the man called Sakata Gintoki is the things he sees in his red-eyes. The shadows and creases in his eyes told of stories he is sure are never been told.

The nonchalance hid grief and loss and pain that he knows should have brought a strong man to his knees. But danna is stronger because he carried and survived the ordeal. He kept it to himself and builds his fort with it. He can see in those guarded eyes a thousand stories never been opened. Yet, at times those guards lower, he can see a lost boy amidst the corpses of men; a lost boy who was left alone but survived and came out strong.

It's what made him respect the man known as Sakata Gintoki.

Gintoki didn't know what made him open his mouth. Maybe it was the sake or maybe because he felt like he finally belongs to somewhere. Or maybe, he can't take it anymore. He felt like Atlas who carries the weight of the world in his shoulders and when he found an opportunity to relieve him the crushing burden, he grabbed it.

Or maybe because he knows he can trust his life with these people.

"When Shouyo-sensei found me, I was but a little boy dressed in a peasant's clothes, holding unto a beautiful katana, eating rice balls amidst the corpses of men," he paused and added as an afterthought, "I was once called a corpse-eating demon because people would often find me eating in the middle of dead bodies, they thought I was eating the corpses and because of it, they grew afraid of me and I was okay with it because that means they won't approach me. What they didn't know was those men; those warriors always carry food and good things with them." His lips unconsciously lifted in a smirk, eyes distant and remembering those times when he was so alone and so young and so scared but trying very hard to live and see another day.

"I would salvage what I could and sometimes, I would see war orphaned children loitering along the streets and begging or scrapping food and I don't know but I would give them most of the food I was able to find. Sometimes, I would find jewelries among the dead and I would get them and sell it off. The money then would go towards those kids. Most of those times, I would grow selfish and tell myself I don't need to help them because we are all the same: alone and street rats. If I was able to fend for myself then they should too! But then I would still give them the money and they would thank me and I would remember why I help them despite my own condition. To know that even if I was alone, I was able to make someone live to see the next day, smile at me and then I won't feel so alone. I would move from town to town scavenging until one day; I helped a lady from aggressive amantos. I wielded the katana and chopped the heads of those aliens with speed and accuracy not befitting of my age. After that, all I expected was thanks and I'd be off but the lady asked me a question that even I did not have the answer; she asked for my name." He paused and drinks the sake and his audience watched him with rapture attention. He moves and talks as if he was merely stating a story off a book and not the story of his childhood. Maybe it was his way of reconciling with the harshness of it, maybe to hide what he truly feels, maybe both.

"It was then that I truly realized I am with no memory. I tried remembering but I can't. The earliest memory I have was of the moment I stepped off the ship that carted me to the docks of this land. I cannot recall a moment from beyond there. All I knew was that the blade I was holding and that I should not let go of it no matter what. I have no knowledge of my own identity. I didn't know where I came from, my name, my age my parents. It was as if I was a blank slate the moment my feet touched Japanese lands and it was that moment I felt very alone, very young and utterly and irrevocably scared. I ran. Away from the lady, away from the aliens I just slayed, away from civilization. I ran away with tears streaming down my face and blood from the katana whipping and clinging to my clothes while trying and failing to remember who I was. My heart was clenching so hard it made breathing hard. My throat felt as if I just swallowed a big lump of food and somehow it won't go down no matter how much I swallow. My tongue felt heavy as lead and my body aches so much. I ran until I can't even lift a finger anymore and it was then I realized that I was in pain, that my young soul was crying and trying to reach out to someone who wasn't there, maybe who was never there since the beginning, and when no one answered, I screamed. I let those tears and sobs go and I wailed like the child I was. Like a newborn babe calling out to its mother or a father or something that offers warmth and protection. Except in my case, there was no one to pat my back and dry my tears. There was no one to hush me to comfort and lull me to sleep. There was no one but myself and that beautiful katana stained in amanto bloods. The next I woke up, I was in clearing with a clean river. I must have run inside a forest. I dragged my body towards the river and cleaned the blade with my clothes. I bathe and while looking at that calm river, I contemplated drowning myself. If I die, no one would care. I would be just another unknown ceasing to exist. And I did. I dunked myself to the deepest part of the river that reaches above my head. I was near suffocation then when something tugged at my mind: an incessant voice telling me to live to the fullest for them. For who, I didn't know but I felt my mind obeying it. And the next thing I knew I was drying myself in the sun with my washed clothes hanging in the branches to dry. I can't remember what exactly happened but I continued living the way I lived the past months. That voice was compelling me to obey it and I did. I thought I would live and die that way: scavenging, killing amantos, fleeting, existing, and living; until someone approached me." He paused.

"I was eating some rice balls I got from a dead man surrounded by corpses when a voice called out to me. It told me that only a monster would manage eating calmly surrounded by dead bodies. I sheathed my blade so fast and turned around to face the man. The man was so achingly familiar with long light hair and sharp kind eyes and a gentle smile. Maybe that was why I trusted him. He asked for a name and I just said I didn't know. He looked and stared at me and his eyes felt as if it was probing my very being. He smiled at me and named me Gintoki Sakata. I asked what that means and he said that because he found me in a rice field in the slope of a small hill despite dead bodies and blood covering it thus the Sakata(saka-slope/hill, ta-rice field), he told me that despite the killings and hardships I had faced my soul still burns silver and pure thus the Gin(silver). But he said that it was really because we met at the silver hour, it is when the sun just set in the horizon. He also said the silver hour is also the half an hour time before and after death, the most delicate time of a person's death where the soul is prepared and guided to the afterlife. He said that with the way I stand vigil, even if I was just stealing their things, it was like I was guiding the dead's soul, thus the toki(hour). Sakata Gintoki; the rice fields in a hill at the silver hour."

"I accepted the name he gave me because finally, I have something to call myself. I was given identity and I was happy. He gave me his sword and told me how he was planning to start a temple school and that, my friends, was when I started the road to be a samurai." He gave a wistful smile.

And the air was heavy with heartbreak and pity.

"After that was just a bunch of things happening. Sensei managed to build the temple school and a handful of kids enrolled. There, I met a bunch of kids yet I can't find in myself to care for them. I never cared for the lessons too except when it's about fighting and sparring. Then one day, a kid challenged the school; calling us weak and stupid. Sensei told me to grant the kid's wish of a spar. I owned him. Since then, he kept coming back with his friend; until his parents found out and they disowned him. And I was again gob smacked of the fact that I do not remember my parents. Among the students there, I was the youngest and the only one with no knowledge of his origin and because of it, I grew insecure. I kept myself isolated, I never talked to the others unless it was to insult them and so, I was alone. But there were these two pests who would never leave me the hell alone. When I was lounging at the roofs, they would be below me, calling out to me and being noisy. They were Takasugi and Zura. And somehow, I can connect to them the way I can't towards others. Sensei said it was because we three were the same; parentless. One got disowned but Takasugi didn't give a care and turned his back on them. Zura was a noble born but when his parents died, he was stripped off his title and properties and roamed the lands with his granny till she died and joined the temple school."

"At nights, I would dream of a foreign land; of a castle made of stone. I would dream of silvers and crimsons and gold. I would dream of an opulent room filled with silk, velvet, satin and books. A fireplace and paintings scattered across the halls. An o'tanto, wakizashi and the katana I was holding was along there too. The servants smiling at me as I walk hallways draped in maroons and silvers. I can see armored guards scattered around and I would see a couple sitting at the head of a long table. I would not see their faces, always a blur but their smiles filled me with longing and warmth I never experienced. I would feel happiness and I would wish it would last forever but I would wake up and my dreams would be forgotten. I would wake up with an ache in my being and I just shrugged it off. I would practice using Sensei's katana but sometimes, I would use mine. My katana was a beautiful ebony and red. The kashira(buttcup) was a burnt gold and the menuki(ornament) above it was maroon. The same(rayskin) a bright red, the ito(braid) and mekugi(peg) an ebony leather; soft to touch. The tsuba(guard) was silver in designs of roses and vines. The saya(scabbard) was a sleek black with patches of red that makes it seems to glow. It was beautiful but I didn't know who it came from." He absentmindedly caressed his bokuto as if in reminiscinf of his old sword.

"When Sensei was taken from us, I was only 9. He told me to take care of my temple mates; he left everything in my care. I was the youngest but he tasked me a difficult burden. A year later, I enlisted in the war along with Takasaugi and Katsura is a desperate attempt to rescue our Sensei. When we were 14, we rose up to the ranks and were given leadership and armies. We were the Four Heavenly Kings along with Sakamoto. We led the Joui to countless victories until we were proven too much of a threat. When I was 15, they were able to capture my comrades. I got away. When I was about to wreak havoc to free them, they presented me Sensei. They made me choose between him and my comrades. I didn't know what to do back then. I was only so young. I joined the war to free Sensei. I went there to free my comrades. I was torn between two rocks. But I saw Sensei smiling at me and I remembered him saying how everything was in my care now; that I should care for everyone just like how he would. I failed him. When I chose to uphold my Sensei's words, I knew then that it would be what he would want me to do. He thanked me before I decapitated his head using my blade. And I knew he was proud of my decision. I wanted to die then. I wanted to end my misery but Sensei tasked me and I have to see to it. Because if I die then, Takasugi would go insane. As long as I live, Takasugi would have something to live, a goal: as long as Shouyou-sensei's murderer still walks, he would too until he'll strike the murderer down."

"Sensei said to swing my blade to protect a friend. But since I killed him, it wasn't protecting anymore; it was revenge and grief making me kill, so I discarded his and my sword and went for a wooden sword. I stabbed and killed. I bathed in amanto blood and it somehow eased my burden. Countless lives befell and drenched the earth. I was reckless back then. And then I looked around me and saw my comrades lying in their own pool of blood. And I realized I can't take it anymore. Maybe it was survivor's guilt, maybe I realized I bit more of what I can chew, and so, for the second time: I fled."

His entranced audience stares at him with awe while he smiled.

"I found myself drifting. Just like when I was but a young kid. The difference was, back when I was younger, I knew no one so I cared not. I was a nobody existing like a phantom but then, I came to know people. I was given identity and was given a chance at caring. I fought for these people. I killed and defended just to lose them afterwards. It was more painful, more heart felt and soul shattering. So when I heard of a marked insurgent trying to trade his own daughter's life to save his, I went and traded my head hers instead. This way, even if I die, no one would know. Takasugi and Katsura would live knowing I ran away from the battlefield but my executioner let me out of prison. She told me how I would be a good man someday if given the chance and that she was proud she's the one who took the first step to that chance. And so, I journeyed once again and Otose found me. I thought my fate was to live and die at the bloody fields; to give my last breath within the bodies of my dead comrades while looking up the sky and smelling the ashes and burning bodies of the enemy. It seems fate loves me too much to have my life cut off too early and now I have become this man you know today."

"But then, it seems to enjoy screwing my life too. That marked insurgent? He actually blab how a silver-haired with natural perm samurai traded the head of his for his. And it seemed to reach my comrades. Zura believed it while Takasugi refused to believe in such a lie and now that it's proven I am still alive, he's running after my head now." Gintoki laughed.

"But since peace descended upon us once again, the dreams started once again. I actually never remember them but it seems to come back all to me now. I was born in a foreign country where most people have brown and blonde hair and blue or green or gray eyes; a country where it snows most time of the year. I can still remember the coldness of the air and if I breathed long enough, I felt as though I taste the falling white snow once again. At those times, I would often smell the castle in sweetness and bitterness. Mugs of chocolates and coffees accompanied by trays of scones and freshly baked breads and my most favorite was the thick slice of marshmallow covered in chocolate or strawberry syrup. In the mornings, I would wake up with the soft breeze streaming through the opened window and closed curtains with the images of various servants preparing my clothes and tasks for the day; bathe, dress, breakfast, and depending on the day: train using various weapons or hand-to-hand combat or music lessons until lunch, rest and a tutor would come to me to teach me about history, mathematics, science, politics and anything really and afterwards, I would be given two hours of free time before night falls, I would be bathed and dressed for dinner, and after dinner would be sleep. Before I would retire for the night though, I would be visited by two people. One was a man with long straight hair with the color similar of my own with sharp red eyes and a woman with long curly black hair and blue eyes that was, most often than not, half-opened. That hour was my favorite because I get to be alone with them. Well, it's not that we don't meet during the day but during the day, two or three people surround us thus our actions must be watched and controlled least we be called weak."

"Those times, my father and mother would speak to me and tell me of their days. We would joke and some times, we even go to the music room and play a song or two. They would smile and laugh so carelessly, they drop their guards and open up their arms to me and I would gladly reach out my hand act like the child I was."

No one commented about the water that dropped into the sake cup that was held tightly within Gintoki's hand nor did no one complain about the beginnings of crack that appeared.

"We were so happy and so content. I remember my father's frantic voice whenever I hurt myself and my mother's laid back attitude. Between the two of them, Father was the worry wart and the mother hen and it would never fail to amuse Mother and me when we point it out to him and he act so offended. There would be those times where instead of my armored physical education teacher's face and back I was seeing, I would, instead, feel my Father's warm hands guiding my feet and hands to the proper way to perform and execute a kata. He would train me most especially in handling Japanese weapons because he said that it was a way to uphold my Mother's half descent. It turned out that Mother was a half-Japanese. And sometimes, I would find myself sitting in pillow in front my Mother with a low table in front of us while she teach me how to write, read and speak the other half of her blood. In the spring, we would sit below a tree with white little flowers falling above us with the occasional red or pink flower from a shrub. I say it's like sakura watching."

"We would tackle and play and laugh rambunctiously because we know that that time, no one was allowed near our place. There are also the balls and parties I'd loved to go to some times. It was amusing to watch colorful and frilly dresses mixing together when the ladies were dancing but it was more amusing to watch them flaunt and brag about their achievements and pretend to be happy for another when all they do was stab them in the back when they aren't turned. Mother wasn't that pretentious though. She was truly honest and straight forward and it was also funny to watch their rainbow faces contort in a grimace to hide their offended and appalled expression. No one can say something against Mother because she was the queen and saying anything against her was a reflection to the king. In short, it would be treason and treason was dealt with heavily. Mother would only gladly use this in her arsenal to put those back stabbing people in their places." And they figured his Mother would have been the source of his mile long streak of sadism.

"We were happy, we were content and we were enjoying life. We always thought it would be the way it will always be. But people and truth came to light. I was not present that day. Or rather, I changed my princely clothes to one of the servant's son's clothes and went to mingle with the other commoners when people came to the palace. When I got back, blood splattered the walls and servants lay dead. The smoke was palpable and a heavy weight settled in my chest. I ran like crazy but I never screamed nor shouted. I checked everywhere until I got to the throne room. There, I saw my Father and Mother fighting valiantly against these people with light colored hair: light red, light brown, light orange but the most noticeable but the brilliant color of their eyes. Their eyes looked shining and they were alight with blood lust. They were immensely strong. With the bloods in their clothing, they resembled monsters and savaged beasts pillaging for human flesh and blood. And the scariest part of it was that Father looked the same. Mother's and Father's clothes were splattered in blood though I could tell most of them were theirs. That day, as I watch my parents fought heroically, I learned that my Grandfather, Father's sire, was an influential amanto in his own planet. He was a part of the higher echelon that secretly travelled through Earth and fell in love with a human princess that was my Grandmother. He kept it a secret until word has it that he had a son and for being a powerful being, many sought to seek revenge. It was actually unknown how Grandfather died. Father or Mother never told me how. When those amanto learned that he was dead, they tried my Father and they've succeeded. Until the end, even as Mother bleeds like a waterfall of blood, she remained strong and beautiful. She died with honor and a smile on her lips knowing she died in a battle against races she knows are the strongest. She was proud and I was too. Father battled and managed to take down a number of those aliens before succumbing to death. When the aliens figured he was going to die, they left them and went to burn the castle faster. Father, like Mother, left the world of the living with a sad and proud smile and my name on his lips. Before he let death take ahold of him, I approached their bodies and let tears fall down; a memory and a dream dying before my eyes. He smiled at me and wiped my tears with bloody hands. He gave me the katana he was holding which was previously displayed in my room. He told me to run away and live my life to the fullest; to live the way he and Mother should've lived and to never let go with what they are able to leave me with. That day, I lost everything I ever hoped to keep. I lost my home and family and what little friends I had. I felt like I wanted to go with them and to burn with the castle I was born and raised... but I looked down and saw my parents; the lives we could've lived together and I knew then that if I die there, when I meet them in the afterlife, they would not be proud of me. So, I ran away. After getting a ways away, I watched as the palace of crumbled down. The palace of silver and crimson and gold was no more. It was burned along their rulers. But a good thing came with it: with the fall of the past came a dawn. I couldn't bare then to live and walk among the lands so I boarded the first ship to set sail. As the ship sailed and swam through the horizon, I too left everything I was. I stripped myself of my name, Prince Vaughn Stefan (1), and my descents, human and Yato. Perhaps it was my resolve or fate's kind way to help me cope that I forgot myself because the moment I stepped the lands of samurai, I was a clean slate waiting to be filled with new memories and memories I got."

And with the last sipped of his sake, Gintoki's head fell forwards. No one mentioned that the shakes of his shoulder were because he was crying. Everyone was stupefied and awed with the life of Gintoki, the strongest samurai. Who thought that the lazy good-for-nothing ass was actually a prince? And a part Yato at that! But it seems the brightest lights do really cast the darkest shadows.

When the night ended, everyone silently swore to never mention of this evening ever again as a respect to the man named Gintoki nor the things and revelations they had learned. They, after all, wanted to cast those shadows away.

Gintoki felt grateful that no one voiced out anything. They never looked at him with pity and they treated him the same way they had always treated him. No one talked about how the great Gintoki broke down and he was very thankful.

Gintoki looked up at the stars covered sky and smiled.

He's now complete.

(1)Means Royal Crown. Vaughn is Royal and Stefan means Crown in Russian names. I just googled it so if it's wrong, just correct me.

Thank you for reading this.