Disclaimer: I put a disclaimer in the first chapter, it counts for the whole story.
Life at the temple school with Shouyo and the other students was a lot different from wandering fields of dead bodies, and fighting to stay alive. It was easy. Everything was so easy. Food was there. All the time, and it tasted good. Never was there a hint of metallic flavor in the food there. Not a speck of dirt either, and the onigiri usually kept their original shape, not crushed at all. He didn't have to look through dead bodies, and hope to dear god, and he didn't even believe in god, that one, just one of them would have something to eat with them.
When he fought now, he enjoyed it just a little. It was no longer a battle to the death. He wasn't swinging his sword, and killing, and killing, and avoiding, and blocking, and killing some more, just to live anymore. He still didn't like it though. Even if he had a little fun play fighting with the other kids, something Shouyo referred to as "sparring", it would always be a reminder of living in a war zone, and constantly struggling to stay alive. Shouyo said he could give up his blade if he wanted to. Said that he could start anew as a normal kid.
But Gintoki knew better than to take that kind of offer. Knowing little about society as he may, he knew enough. He'd been through enough villages, and had been stoned enough times to know that he'd never get to be a normal kid. His hair was white, his eyes were red, and he killed, looted, and didn't feel particularly sorry for any of it. He was a demon-child. He accepted that.
He didn't particularly like death. He hated the idea of going up to it and greeting it with a kiss more than anything, which was why he fought so hard to live. But he had no problem dealing with it. It was the only constant in his life up until then after all. So he cut off a man's head. He stabbed that man through the heart. He cut out his throat, he stabbed his stomach, he took out an arm, a leg, a dick, a bunch of their fingers, and just left them there to bleed out and die. It didn't matter to him. He just needed to live, and if others needed to die for that to happen- if he needed to make others die for that to happen, he would do so.
And that was exactly why he was stuck with his blade. Always and forever. Because normal kids would have a problem with death. They'd probably throw up at the smell of it. He did the first two times. He also regretted it instantly. He didn't get to eat very often, and vomiting removed the food from his body. It was disgusting, and made him want to vomit again, but for the sake of living, he picked through what he threw up for little clumps of rice and ate it again. Something he would tell nobody ever, but at the very least, he knew he did it to survive, not because he wanted to. After the first two times, he accepted the smell because he needed the food and water he had in his body to stay there if he wanted to live.
In a way, he resented the world. He wondered what he did so wrong to have been born into the life he was. Why hadn't he been given a mother who loved her child so much, she'd stone another white-haired little boy, believing she was defending her baby. Why didn't he get a father who went out and fought for his family, and occasionally came back with lots of love for his wife and child. Why did he not get a sibling at least? Someone who could at least scavenge through the corpses with him, fight to live with him, move and learn to accept death just as he did. It wasn't fair. What did he do so wrong? Why did he have to live like that? Why did he have white hair and red eyes? If he was born with black hair and brown eyes, someone would've taken him in at least! But no, instead, even his appearance was like that of a demon.
But there was nothing he could do about it.
He wasn't quite so upset anymore though. He was living a luxurious life, with three meals a day, a bed to sleep in, and people who spoke to him. He had Shouyo now. And Zura, and even that shorty, Takasugi. Maybe life wasn't bullshitting him that bad after all. Maybe this was it giving back whatever it had taken from him. It felt like he had a family now. His brothers and a father.
Sometimes he didn't know how to deal with it. It was a bit of a sensory overload when he thought too seriously about it. He got stuck in his thoughts sometimes. He would just remember what life was like before he was found and question everything that was going on. Sure, he'd originally believed he'd drawn the short end of the stick in life, but now, now that he was living just a twinge normally, minus the constant state of chaos his mind seemed to be in, what had he done exactly to deserve it?
Could he really say that life took something from him when he'd had nothing in the first place? He probably fucked up really bad and was being punished when he was born the way he was. Maybe resenting the world was just him being selfish and foolish. He didn't deserve Shouyo's kindness, or Zura and Chibisugi's friendship. He didn't belong there, where people laughed and spoke and ate, and play fought. He belonged on a battlefield, killing, destroying, and then looking through the corpses for something to eat.
But then someone; Shouyo, or Zura, or even that annoying Chibisugi would find him, and shake him out of that trance. Remind him that he was gonna be alright. To have someone care about him was something new too. It was weird. It was even weirder that he cared about those three dumbasses too. If anything happened to even one of them, he didn't know what he'd do. He might just go insane. If not, he'd have a mental breakdown and finally just give in to death, who'd been nipping at his heels, telling him he's always welcome to join since the day he could recall being alive.
Just as he felt for his blade, his feelings for his new "family" were confusing. On one hand, he loved it. As he loved feeling powerful and able to protect himself, he loved having a family to protect, and who would protect him in return. People who cared for him, and who he cared for just as much. It was an amazing feeling, like a ride of ecstasy to have those kind of people in his life. On the other hand, he despised it. He hated having to hold a blade. He hated death, and he resented all that surrounded him for simply being the way it was. He hated having to protect someone other than himself. He hated the possibility of willingly giving in to death, the one thing he'd spent his entire life running from and avoiding, just because some other boy, or Shouyo had died. He was half tempted to spit on the idea of family.
His blade, his family. Both were a double edged sword in their own rights, and put together, he was constantly taunted by the two different ideals within him. But he was strong, and ignoring the constant ribbing of those arguing little voices his head wasn't exceptionally difficult.
For now though, he would enjoy the luxury. The food, the beds, the shelter, the family. He would embrace it with open arms.
It was the first place he'd been that didn't smell like death after all.