Over a Cat
Fandom : Gintama
Pairing : GinZura (You'll find it if you're here looking for it)
Rating : T
Warning : Spoilers for chapter 563 (Please read that chapter first, it's awesome), deaths (of non-major, nameless characters)
Summary : Zura was an idiot, because Gintoki had to remind him every so often that he was no longer alone now. Gintoki was there. And if there was anyone in this whole forsaken Amanto-riddled world who would understand what Zura had been through, it's Gintoki. [Takes place in the Joui War]
Disclaimer : This is a work of fanfiction with characters originally created by Sorachi Hideaki for Manga/Anime Gintama. I own no rights to them.
Author Notes : Written for the GinZuraWeek on Tumblr (Day 5: Cats)
They had just taken another big hit. The number of people who managed to come back to their makeshift camp was barely half of those who had left to the battlefield, all of them not without injuries. There was still hope that the others might return later, probably something just held them back from returning to the camp together with the rest of them. Nevertheless, deep inside, Gintoki knew that they, people dubbed them the Joui patriots, were counting down their days. Their number just kept on decreasing with each battle they vainly fought, as the Amanto seemed to come up with another new mass-destructing weapon each time. They were fighting a losing war.
Their camp, but really it's just a rundown abandoned temple with holes everywhere that'd make you feel the cold, wind, and rain as much as you would if you just slept out there in the open air; was filled with heavy and gloomy atmosphere. Some of the survivors wept over their lost comrades, and those who didn't have enough energy to do so just weakly groaned as their wounds got treated, obviously inadequately so. They had run out of medical supplies two or three battles ago, Gintoki couldn't remember exactly. Now, they'd be lucky if they could spare some clean water to wash their wounds as well as finding a piece of cloth to bandage them.
Despite the more than plenty of holes on the walls and the roof surrounding him, Gintoki felt suffocated. It's always like this after battles. More and more so after each one. Won or lost. Gintoki always felt like each battle left a big hole inside of him, but instead of feeling light, he felt heavy, stuffed, suffocated.
After refusing one of his comrade's offer to treat his wounds, he'd take care of them himself later, that guy should go help the others instead; Gintoki headed outside.
Outside was not significantly better than inside, apparently; unfortunately. There were some of his comrades who, like Gintoki, couldn't stand being inside their stuffy camp any longer and decided to go outside to get a bit of fresh air. But who were they kidding? Nowadays, it felt like the air was foul no matter where they went.
Gintoki looked at the men's eyes and found nothing there. Not even sadness, not even anguish. Empty.
How lively, Gintoki thought.
He was about to move his legs, intending to go even further to the forest, or the stream, or anywhere to get away from that forsaken place, to breathe; when he spotted Zura.
Zura, their idiotic so-called leader. Gintoki decided to walk towards the idiot instead.
Zura was sitting on the ground, a little way off from the others. That man always distanced himself from the others right after battles. Gintoki probably knew why. Zura was the one who had to directly face their comrades later, to evaluate their battle, to give the post-battle speech, to discuss about their next strategies, all those crap that Gintoki couldn't care any less.
Zura was the one who had to talk to them like nothing had happened. Like they hadn't just lost more and more comrades. Because those men didn't need to be reminded of how much they had lost. What they needed was the will to carry on. They needed to cling to that hope. The hope that someday things would get better. And Zura, that scatter-brained childhood friend of his, had apparently, maybe unknowingly, served as that hope; someone who would surely lead them to that better 'someday'.
Gintoki was also considered one of their leaders, up there with Zura, but Gintoki was not someone who would do stupid stuff like being a leader, do leader's duties, bear leader's responsibilities, all those troublesome crap. Unfortunately, or fortunately for their comrades, Zura was a stupid empty-headed wig, so the idiot was the one who was there to take care of all those troublesome crap. Willingly, and Gintoki believed, unknowingly.
Tch. Idiot.
Gintoki flopped beside that said idiot, closed his eyes and breathed, long heavy exaggerated sigh, harsh whoosh of air through his nose, lungs, mouth; and then drawled, "Zura."
Behind closed lids, Gintoki felt the other turned to look at him, and heard his own name uttered in that level, familiar, so achingly familiar voice.
"Gintoki."
For a moment too long, that was all he heard, and Gintoki almost worried. Almost, because then he finally heard those other familiar words, the ones that he believed were being said a moment too late.
"It's not Zura. It's Katsura."
And Gintoki smiled. Not exactly. Just a slight twitch of the corner of his lips, because still, the usually automatic reply was too tardy to be alright. At least as alright as it could be after what recently happened. After all they had just lost.
So Gintoki opened his eyes, turned his gaze to his childhood friend, and found that Zura was looking downward at his lap. Gintoki followed his gaze, and then frowned.
There on Zura's lap was a cat.
"Where'd you find that?"
It was no secret that Zura liked, adored, cats. And other cute animals, really. Gintoki was willing to bet that everyone who'd ever chatted with the idiot fairly long enough would know about that endearing quirk of his. Well, Gintoki believed some people would call it endearing, at least. Not him, though. Zura was just a stupid dork.
"He's hurt." Zura stroked the cat's head. "I found him on the way back earlier."
After looking at the cat a little more closely, Gintoki could see the wound on one of its front legs.
"I didn't know there are stray cats around here." He leaned in to peer at the cat. "What do you think happened to it?"
"Him." Zura corrected. "He's a male, Gintoki. And I don't know. Maybe he was attacked by another animal, or maybe it's an accident. Thorns, probably."
"I'm not a weirdo like you, Zura. I never bothered checking on a cat's gender. I'm not interested in looking at a cat's dic-, ow!"
Zura, that bastard, had probably wanted to elbow him, but because of Gintoki's leaning position, he managed to smack Gintoki's chin with the back of his hand instead.
The cat meowed weakly at the commotion.
"Watch your language!" Zura whispered disapprovingly to Gintoki while stroking the cat, trying to calm it. Him.
Gintoki mentally rolled his eyes, stroking his abused chin. Because Gin-san's chin definitely needed stroking too right now, you know.
As Zura was immersed in trying to calm the cat, Gintoki spent the moment to look at his friend closely. Like Gintoki, Zura apparently hadn't bothered to treat his wounds. He probably had refused one of their comrades' offer just like Gintoki earlier.
Of course that wig-head would worry over a cat's injuries while ignoring his own. Typical stupid Zura.
Thankfully, both he and Zura didn't suffer serious injuries. Nothing they'd never got before, at least. Of course the two of them were among the very last samurai who had stayed on the battlefield, buying time to allow their comrades to retreat when it had been clear that advancing forward would just mean advancing towards their demise. But they were not dubbed two of the best Joui fighters in their generation for nothing. They always managed to hold their own. So far. And Gintoki would like to keep it that way. He didn't intend to die out there. He didn't give a damn about all those martyr crap. Too bad Gintoki had to remind Zura every so often that he shouldn't either.
"You smell awful," Gintoki remarked.
Zura didn't even spare him a side glance. "Are you sure you're not smelling your own body odor?"
"You look awful," Gintoki tried again.
"You do realize you look like a crumpled dirty cotton ball yourself, don't you?" Zura answered absentmindedly.
"Hm. We need to wash." Gintoki stood up. "C'mon. Take the cat. We should wash his wound, too. Don't want him to catch your stupidity through that open wound, do you?"
Zura looked up at him then, "I was worried he would catch your perm hair virus, actually. That would be repulsive."
Zura stood up nonetheless and the two of them, with Zura cradling the cat, walked towards a nearby stream. It wasn't far, but they had to pass by that field. It wasn't exactly a field, just a small open area where the trees grew rather sparsely compared to the surrounding area. That field was not just any field, because that was where they buried their fallen comrades. It's their camp's graveyard.
They had been staying in that area for a couple of weeks now, and it was impossible not to notice how there were more and more mounds in that field.
Gintoki felt, more than saw, how Zura tensed when they walked past the graveyard. Zura was a man who could conceal his feelings and emotions well, it seemed like he had been born with that ability. People would say it was one of the qualities that made him a good leader. It had taken Gintoki a while to be able to see through the other man's shell himself, especially because they had been just small little kids when they had first met. Little kids were not meant to see through the other kids' shells. Actually, kids were not supposed to have shells in the first place, right? But after days, weeks, months, and years of going through childhood, adolescence, and now entering adulthood together, Gintoki was confident enough to say that he was one of the very few people who could see through that scatter-brained friend of his.
Right now, other people would see nothing wrong with Zura, but Gintoki was not those other people. He could tell how Zura was highly uncomfortable, how that place unnerved him to no end. And he had to admit that he knew it so well partly because that was exactly what Gintoki was feeling too.
They just kept on walking. Zura didn't say anything, so Gintoki didn't either.
They washed themselves at the stream. Gintoki had managed to get a relatively clean cloth from the camp earlier to wipe their, and the cat's, wounds. That should be enough to at least prevent infections, hopefully. The cat meowed in protest and struggled a little when they tried to tend to his wound, but eventually, their wounds were decently treated and bandaged by the time they headed back to the camp.
Zura stroked the now sleeping cat in his arms as they walked back. When Gintoki saw Zura's hand faltered and trembled when they once again walked past the graveyard, Gintoki stopped and grabbed his elbow.
"Let's stop here for a while."
Gintoki might have underestimated Zura's condition because the man gasped and jumped slightly from the simple action. Zura was way more strung out than he thought.
The man then stared incredulously at Gintoki, "Not here."
"No," Gintoki insisted. "It has to be here."
He then dragged Zura by the elbow to a nearby large tree, and flopped down. He tugged at Zura's trousers when the man didn't immediately follow suit.
"Gintoki…," Zura almost sounded like he was pleading.
"Sit down, Zura."
Zura probably could tell that Gintoki was not leaving any room for argument there, because he then sat down slowly, careful not to wake the cat in his arms.
The tree was large, but not large enough for them to sit side by side and rest their backs fully against the tree. The diameter only allowed them to sit side by side with a little more than half of their backs against it. This reminded Gintoki of how the two of them had really grown up now. Back then, when they were still just small children, that cherry tree on their schoolyard was big enough for both of their small bodies. The two of them had used to sit there under the tree. Zura, that nerd, would read sensei's book, while Gintoki would snooze beside him, because Gin-san's not a nerd like Zura. And Gintoki's head would loll and rest on Zura's shoulder, and he would drool on it. And then Zura would scold him, all childish pouty lips and childish puffed out cheeks, and Gintoki had found that he loved to drool on Zura's shoulder. Every time, Zura would always scold him for drooling on him, but he would always still be there when Gintoki had finally woken up, never left. Zura was weird. Sometimes Gintoki would wake up to the sight of cherry petals caught in Zura's stupid wig, and he would think he must have been still dreaming, because the sight would make him feel… weird inside. Zura had always been weird.
They just sat there, with the mounds on the earth which served as the final resting place for their fallen comrades in plain sight. For a long while they didn't say anything. Now that Zura had sat beside him, their shoulders touching, Gintoki could really feel the tremor from the other's body.
Zura had always done a good job at not reminding their comrades of everything they had lost, everyone they had lost. But no matter how good he was at it, he would never be able to do the same for himself. There were reminders everywhere; in their comrades' eyes, and here, in this field they called a graveyard. He would always be reminded of all those comrades he couldn't save, of how he had failed them. Each and every single one of them. Gintoki knew, because that's how it was for Gintoki, too.
But Zura felt entitled to bear all those burdens, all those miseries, on his own. Maybe it's because he was so used of that. He'd had to bear all the weights of his family on his small little shoulders since he was just a young child, alone. He'd been forced to be his family's General. While other kids could run rampage, being naughty, marring their family's reputation, causing their parents to apologize on their behalf, that privilege was not something that little Zura could have the joy of having. And as he grew up, Gintoki supposed, Zura probably felt it was only natural that he had to bear bigger burdens, bigger responsibilities, of a bigger family, alone. Now, he carried the heavier weights of being the Joui family's General.
But Zura was an idiot, because Gintoki had to remind him every so often that he was no longer alone now. Gintoki was there. And if there was anyone in this whole forsaken Amanto-riddled world who would understand what Zura had been through, it's Gintoki. Because, let's just say, just like Zura, Gintoki hadn't had the privilege that other normal kids would have either.
"Zura," Gintoki called.
Zura didn't even reply this time. There wasn't even the usual automatic retort to correct his name. Gintoki sighed.
"Maybe that tiny wig-covered brain of yours is not capable of remembering this," Gintoki started. "But a long time ago, back when we were kids, I said something to you. It's a shame you're too dense to remember it, because you can really use it right now."
That seemed to get Zura's attention because he then turned his head to look questioningly at Gintoki, silently urging him to go on.
"I told you to forget about all that General crap and just be Zura when you're with me."
Zura's eyes widened upon hearing that. It seemed that he finally remembered what Gintoki was referring to.
"You have to be tough in front of them, I understand. But you're not a cold, heartless, soulless General statue who would just stand there for anyone to stare and scrutinize, feeling nothing. You're a human being. " Gintoki continued. "It hurts, it's painful, it's agonizing, it's unbearable, you're capable of feeling all that. And you're allowed to show it. Don't be a stubborn idiot by trying to hide it from yourself." He paused. "From me."
Gintoki saw the mist on Zura's eyes and how his small lips quivered, and Gintoki offered him a soft smile. "Don't ever forget that you'll always be just Zura to me. And I don't want it any other way."
And then the dam broke as Zura finally let go and shed his tears. He bowed his head and sobbed, letting go of the anguish he had held inside for only God knows how long.
"It's heavy…," Zura whispered between sobs. "It's so heavy, Gintoki…"
Gintoki then wrapped his arm around Zura's shoulders. Even now that he's no longer the small child living on his own all those years ago, Zura's shoulders still felt so small, too small. But it's alright because together with Gintoki's shoulders, their shoulders would become big enough, strong enough.
"Yeah," Gintoki whispered back, and shed his share of tears. "Yeah, it is…"
He brought Zura's head to rest on his shoulder. Back then, Zura had let him drool on his shoulder under that cherry tree on the schoolyard, so now, Gintoki figured he would let Zura shed his tears on his shoulders in return. Gin-san's a generous guy, after all.
The two of them stayed like that until the sun was low in the horizon, and the cat on Zura's lap finally woke up with a meow.
When they arrived back at the camp, the atmosphere was significantly better. Gintoki and Zura were pleased to be greeted with the good news that more and more comrades had finally returned. That definitely lifted the whole camp's spirit and morale.
Zura then went to help the other guys preparing dinner and Gintoki was about to go prepare the fire when one of the guys whispered to him, "What happened to Katsura-san?"
Gintoki then looked over his shoulder, at Zura, whose eyes were still a bit red and puffy, then shrugged. "Zura's just being stupid over a cat."
Because other people might know that their Katsura-san was a stupid mush who would lose himself over a cat, but no one needed to know how Zura could just be Zura when he's with Gintoki. It's Gintoki's exclusive privilege.
Author Notes :
You may notice that this was so rushed. I may have to edit it later (or even delete it if I re-read it and become too embarrassed by it, haha), but I still have the slightest hope that someone would enjoy reading it.
Anyway, in the meantime, do drop reviews if you have the will and time. Reviews make me happy.