When Kondo asked, Gin wished that the booze wasn't running so low. His wounds were beginning to ache again.
The evening had started off merry, but as the sake disappeared and their tongues loosened, Gin found himself talking about days he never thought he would look back on again. Kondo listened silently with an expression that Gin couldn't read.
"Was it worth it?" he asked slowly.
Gin was suddenly aware of the age difference between them - it couldn't have been more than three or four years, he thought, but tonight it may as well have been a hundred. To Kondo, the war was a distant childhood memory. To Gin, the war was his childhood.
Gin let out a bitter laugh. A different, older ache settled into his bones as he threw back his cup. "It never is."
When Hasegawa asked, Gin smoked his first cigarette - a cheap thing, the taste of which nearly made him vomit. He coughed and hacked, slapping his friend's shoulder absently.
Hasegawa wasn't paying attention, staring instead at a small family passing through the park. A mother and father each held one of their boy's hands, swinging the child back and forth as he screeched gleefully.
Gin frowned, taking a closer look at the old man. Behind the glasses, his eyes were deeply lined and tired. His clothes were grimy and he looked paler than usual. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"Do you ever wonder how things would be if you'd done something differently?"
Gin's expression darkened as he followed Hasegawa's gaze. The family was gone, a trail of scuff marks in the dirt path left behind them. "Doesn't everyone?" he shrugged, and he took another drag of the cigarette.
When Sougo asked, it marked a year since his sister had died. The young captain had never much been one for drinking, but Gin still couldn't find it in himself to be surprised when he found him slumped over the bar with a half empty sake cup in his hand.
As Gin sat down heavily beside him, he wondered dimly whether or not Sougo had really stumbled upon his old haunt just by chance. The captain's eyes were sunken and dark, his hands unsteady from the drink.
"I thought this stuff was supposed to drown your sorrows," he slurred.
Gin knocked back a shot of his own. "No, but it'll drown your liver," he said wearily. "What, do you want to end up drunk and broke like old Gin-san? This stuff'll kill you, y'know."
"Is that why you drink, danna?"
Gin was silent for a long time, eyeing the last dregs of sake in his cup. He had no answer.
The change in his pocket didn't even begin to cover Sougo's tab, but he slipped it into the bartender's hand anyway as he helped Sougo to his feet and started the long trek home.
When Tama asked, Gin gritted his teeth against the needle in her hand as she stitched him up. It was getting expensive, being in and out of the hospital so much. Why bother when Tama could just download the know-how for free?
"Gintoki-sama should be more careful," she said mildly, sewing up the gash in his cheek. "It wasn't wise to take such a dangerous job alone. Next time, please take someone with you."
"'S all right," Gin mumbled, "I appreciate the concern, Tama, but I can handle myself."
"But doesn't it hurt?"
Tama's eyes, so close to his, betrayed something different from concern - more like a simple curiosity, almost infantile. It was hard to meet her gaze, somehow.
"Less than some things," Gin said after a while, lying through clenched teeth.
When Kagura asked, the moonlight streaming in through the office window wasn't enough. Gin turned on all of the lights in the house, threw open the windows to the bustling sounds of the city to ease the oppressive silence, and sat down beside Kagura's closet where she lay clutching her head, eyes shut tight. When he offered her his hand, she gripped it like a lifeline. He talked for a long time about nothing - mostly complaints about the chores, or the rent, or Sadaharu's latest "present" - and soon she remembered that she was on Earth, safe in bed, and her brother was far away, too far to harm her or anyone else.
"Is this what Gin-chan feels like at night?" she asked suddenly.
Gin didn't answer.
"Does it get better?"
Gin squeezed her hand. "'Course it does," he said quietly, more like a prayer than a reassurance. He held her hand until her grip relaxed and her breathing slowed and she was back to sleep, and kept on holding it through the night.
He didn't sleep.
When Shinpachi asked, Gin found him in the middle of washing the laundry, a kimono stained with someone else's blood gripped tightly in his hands. No matter what he tried, the stain wouldn't come out. His hands were steady, but his eyes had a distant look that Gin wished wasn't so familiar. When he spoke, his voice was strange.
"Do you ever get scared?"
Gin felt helpless as he watched the one part of his life he never wanted to touch these kids seep insidiously back into his home. "Every day," he said haltingly.
When Gin asked himself, he closed his eyes against the morning sun pouring in through his window.
What am I doing here?
He heard a key turning in the door as Shinpachi came in to start the day. But this morning, for some reason, no knock came on Gin's door. Shinpachi did that every now and then, let them sleep in when they had no clients. Gin listened as he shuffled about the place, starting on the morning chores. He hummed to himself while he worked, horribly off key.
What am I doing here?
Gin's eyes stayed closed as Kagura's closet door slid open and he heard her mumble a complaint about Shinpachi's humming. Outside, he could hear the city beginning to stir. Right about now, Otose would be opening up shop. Tama would be up to ask for the rent soon.
I'm living.
The sunlight was warm on Gin's cheek as he opened his eyes. Time to start another day.