The sky was a brilliant shade of blue that day, clear and cloudless, without any Amanto ships in view, and the sun was shining brightly, caressing his face with the rays of its secure warmth. A light breeze carried the distinct, pleasantly familiar scent of the sea and brought a sense of calm coolness. It helped Takasugi keep his focus – something he was finding more difficult than usual. He could hear the hushed conversations and see the anxious faces of some of the Kiheitai members who had assembled before him round the back of the abandoned warehouse. He could see their gazes wander from one face to another, see the men shrug and shake their heads in response. Perhaps Takasugi would have scoffed on the inside at the amount of commotion some other time; however, that day at that particular moment he merely watched them all, trying to disregard the uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach by clenching his fists. One corner of his lips turned up in a quivering ghost of a smirk before disappearing again. He had yet to say a single word, yet everyone seemed to be aware of the reason for the gathering, if their expressions were any indication.

'So this is it?' asked Bansai eventually, his eyes unreadable behind the sunglasses, but Takasugi noticed a certain tension to his posture and strain to his voice. Of all his men, it was Bansai who had always been the most perceptive and cognizant of Takasugi's plans, so it came as no surprise that at least he had figured it out. Takasugi wouldn't be surprised if the information being leaked had been Bansai's doing; however, he also knew that none of his followers were complete fools. They had likely seen it coming much earlier on.

On Bansai's left, Matako shifted uneasily at the question. Her eyes were misted over, yet also fierce as ever. The only time he had seen her cry was when she thought he had died after falling off the cliff on Rakuyō and she was probably determined to keep it that way. Even that time she had vehemently insisted that it had only been the rain wetting her cheeks and that, although worried, she had never doubted that he would come back to them. It hadn't escaped Takasugi's notice that her shoulders had been shaking as she said that and her eyes had been red, but he never brought it up.

'Yes.' Even though he felt the words leave his mouth, they sounded as if they'd been said by someone else.

Such a simple response. It felt almost anticlimactic and Takasugi couldn't help thinking that everything about the situation was incredibly surreal.

A muffled sob came from the spot where Matako stood, one of her arms now pressed against her face. 'Shin … ke … sama …'

Bansai put one hand on her shoulder and whispered something Takasugi couldn't hear.

They had known. They had known the moment would come where their journey would end – felt it creeping closer and closer ever since his and Gintoki's all-out fight in Iga – and yet it still felt like something that was happening in a distant reality and a place which had nothing to do with them. But from the pain in his still-healing wounds and the warmth on his face, Takasugi knew that it was no dream. And it was not so much that he wanted nothing to do with the Kiheitai any more; he just knew there were other things he should do. Alone.

'What about the ships?' Takechi Henpeita stepped forward. 'The machinery, the guns, everything?'

'Keep it all,' said Takasugi and let out a quiet sigh. 'Do as you please. I'm your general no more.' He looked up at the sky. 'You can share it and scatter. You can stay together. It's your choice to make. I have already taken what I needed.'

Takechi must have deemed the answer satisfactory as he nodded and asked no further questions, backing into the throng. Others seemed to still have some doubts, because the whispers didn't cease.

'I-I understand,' said Matako, her voice quavering. 'I understand that our objective … our objective …' She sniffed before mustering up the strength to speak louder and with more affirmation. 'But I'd still follow you anywhere, Shinsuke-sama, so –!'

'Matako-san.' Takechi's arm outstretched before her chest right as Matako was about to take a step in Takasugi's direction. Bansai's clutch on her shoulder tightened as well.

Takasugi regarded Matako with a long stare which otherwise would have doubtless made her blush, but now only resulted in her biting her lip and looking at him hopefully. Her devotion to him was quite remarkable and Takasugi had known she would find his decision hard to accept. He had no doubt that she would respect it once it was final, no matter how much she disliked it, but he couldn't think it foolish that she clung to every possibility to stay by his side. Not after he had devoted so many years of his life to avenging one person. He was hardly one to talk.

'Don't throw your lives away,' he finally said, both to Matako and everyone else present. Then he raised his gaze and let it slide over the rest of the Kiheitai. 'A new wind is coming. Who knows where your ships will sail.'

Matako's shoulders slumped and she looked smaller than usual, and more resigned than Takasugi had ever seen her. The men behind her started whispering to one another more animatedly than before, soon creating a hubbub of excitement, sorrow and various other emotions.

Bansai and Takechi looked at each other and nodded in agreement.

'Gentlemen,' said Takechi suddenly, gesturing for silence. 'And Matako-san.'

All the people present looked at Takechi without delay.

'In that case, let us bid farewell to Shinsuke-dono.'

Before Takasugi could even try to protest, they had straightened their postures and raised their hands in a salute. Some were sniffling, some had their eyes closed to prevent tears from escaping, others looked solemn and hard to decipher. But in the end they all roared as one: 'Thank you for everything, General!'

Takasugi thought the gesture entirely unnecessary, but his features softened up the slightest bit. He picked up his sedge hat, which had been sitting on a nearby crate, and put it on his head before turning round with a heavy heart. 'Well then, I'll be on my way.'

He had only made a few steps when a voice stopped him.

'Shinsuke.'

Takasugi turned to face his crew and his gaze found Bansai's. The man's sunglasses sat a little lower on the bridge of his nose and he could feel the intensity of the eyes peering at him from above the lenses. 'Bansai.'

They looked at each other in silence, as if trying to reach some sort of understanding. Live on, was what Bansai's gaze seemed to be saying, Live on, Shinsuke, even though he said no word.

What kind of song can you hear now, Bansai?

Takasugi pulled the front rim of his hat down with a smile so small it was barely there. 'Farewell … my friends.'

[Written one year ago and posted 2 months ago on AO3. I kept forgetting to post it here, but it's Bansai's birthday today, so I thought it was a good time to finally do it.]

I wrote this as a scene for one story which I've been working on, but decided I didn't want it there. I might update this if I manage to continue the story, but I'm not sure how I feel about it right now.