"A battle between hunters?" Jiraia smirks, and then drops. Time slows for a split second, and Gintoki watches the way he falls – quick, like a stone, but graceful, like a cat, and as perfectly controlled as a spider descending from the ceiling on a single strand of silk. And then suddenly the world is moving again, fast, too fast; Gintoki feels like he has whiplash from the flow of time rebounding back into place. Or maybe it's from the force of the blow that Gintoki only barely manages to parry. It feels like Jiraia is everywhere at once, and despite his best efforts Gintoki can't quite keep up. His reflexes are a hair too slow, thanks to his injuries—

—what injuries? He's not injured.

He's not sure why he thought he was.

The thought slips from his mind as Jiraia launches himself off one of his invisible threads, aiming a kick at Gintoki's back. He can't see Jiraia but he knows it's coming, so he shifts his weight and spins on the spot, catching Jiraia's foot with both hands and twisting so he stumbles onto the ground.

Got him.

Behind Jiraia, there's a subtle gleam as moonlight hits one of the threads just right, and Gintoki doesn't think about whether he can or can't; he simply kicks off the ground and soars. It's like he's suspended from wires – he can twist his body freely in the air, and he feels fluid, like he's made of water instead of skin and bones. His feet touch the thread and he rebounds back towards Jiraia, knocking him down with a hard kick just as he's pulling himself back to his feet.

Using Jiraia's web is easier than Gintoki would have expected, and he repeats the same pattern over and over again – flowing like quicksilver, pushing off threads, and smashing Jiraia into the ground with each hit. Jiraia seems to move in slow motion; Gintoki can see the strain against gravity in each of his movements.

A thought flashes through his head, briefly – wasn't Jiraia better than this? He lands another kick, and Jiraia doesn't move an inch; he simply looks up, and locks eyes with Gintoki, and smiles.

Ice cold fear washes down Gintoki's spine, and he feels his body turn to lead. He drops out of the sky like a brick, and when he smashes into the floor Jiraia's foot connects with his shoulder and he goes flying into Jiraia's foot and goes flying again in the opposite direction, this time.

It feels like Jiraia is everywhere at once, and despite his best efforts Gintoki can't quite keep up. His reflexes are a hair too slow, thanks to his injuries from the fight at the docks. Every muscle, every nerve, every ounce of physical intuition he has is screaming at him to get out and get the advantage, so he scrambles towards the door, towards the moonlight.

"Do you intend to escape outside? Fool!" Jiraia launches himself towards Gintoki, and Gintoki responds by stopping hard in the doorway and raising his sword.

"You're the fool."

His swing is powerful enough to bring Jiraia crashing into the floor and sending up a cloud of debris, and Gintoki half expects his hands to bruise from the force of the impact transmitted through his bokutou. There's no time to dwell on it though – a single kunai flies out of the cloud of smoke and Gintoki barely raises a hand to protect his face on time. He catches the gleam of a thread tied to the kunai, and with a quick flick of his wrist the thread is wrapped around both of their wrists, effectively tying them together so neither can escape.

"Gotcha."

Now that he's not focused on fighting for his life, Gintoki can feel the anger burning through his veins, and he channels it all into a single strike of his sword – feels the hot rage coursing through the muscles of his arm and concentrate itself in his swing. One hit, then two, then three, and finally Jiraia parries, and the wooden katana is spinning through the air and clatters to the floor.

Chests heaving, the two men stare at each other. Something feels off, to Gintoki – something about the situation feels wrong, even though everything is exactly as he remembers it—

—how can he remember something that hasn't already happened yet—

—he feels like he's forgotten the script (life doesn't have a script) so he does the only thing he can think of (something is wrong something is off something is wrong wrong wrong) and scowls at Jiraia, the coward who dared call himself anyone's master.

"You don't have the strength to shoulder a student and their pain," Gintoki snarls.

"And you don't have the strength to shoulder your master's burden," Shouyou answers calmly.

Gintoki jerks backwards, but the thread tying their hands together is lengthening, snaking itself up their forearms and wrapping around their torsos and trapping them in place. Shouyou leans forward with an eerie grin, and Gintoki leans back as far as he can but Shouyou's hand still flies to his neck in an instant, and strong fingers wrap around Gintoki's throat.

He wheezes.

"You made the wrong choice."

Shouyou squeezes his hand, and Gintoki's eyes snap open.

Another dr—

"Did you really think my death would save anyone?"

Gintoki is undoubtably laying on his futon in his room, and yet Shouyou's voice rings clear as day in his ears and there's a presence behind him – Gintoki can't see it, but he can sense the shadow leaning over his futon, feel the ends of Shouyou's hair draping across his shoulder and tickling the back of his neck. His reflexes push him to flip over but his body doesn't respond.

One set of alarm bells begin to ring in Gintoki's head.

He takes a deep breath, only he doesn't – it feels like trying to breathe through a pillow, or a thick blanket, except that his face is perfectly uncovered so why does it feel like someone is smothering him?

Across the room, something shifts in the darkness, and a second set of alarm bells go off in his mind. Gintoki doesn't want to look, doesn't want to see the bright smile grinning at him from the shadows, but he physically cannot tear his eyes away or even close them. A pair of eyes opens above that disembodied grin, and Gintoki can only stare in increasing horror as the floor tilts and the apparition slides towards him.

And just as Gintoki wonders if he's still dreaming, his throat suddenly opens, and he's sucking in air freely and greedily, and all of the night terrors are gone; there's no face, no Shouyou-presence leaning over him, and he's awake, he's definitely awake and he can move again, thank fucking God, so he curls up his limbs and tugs his blankets around himself just a little tighter and squeezes his eyes shut and waits for the pounding in his chest to slow. The dream wasn't so bad in and of itself but the aftermath, whatever the fuck that was… Gintoki shudders.

Unsurprisingly, sleep does not come easily. Every time Gintoki tries to relax, the back of his neck prickles like he's being watched. After a solid half hour of trying and failing to fall back asleep, he comes to the conclusion that he just can't be in his own room tonight. Hopefully he'll fare better out on the couch.

Getting up doesn't exactly come easily either, though – he knows it's irrational but he's afraid to move through the room, as if whatever (nonexistent) terrors will be able to get him if he gets up. He can't stay in his room either, though, so he gathers up his courage and his blanket and half-sprints out into the living room, taking care to open and close his door quietly so as to not disturb Kagura.

Once he's all settled in on the couch, he curls up and finally, finally drifts off into a light and fitful sleep.

"Gin-san…" Shinpachi's voice is hesitant, and Gintoki's heart plummets into his stomach. He knows exactly what Shinpachi is going to ask.

"Pattsuan, I'm fine." He does his best to sound reassuring. "I told Kagura yesterday, I just need a new futon, that's all."

Shinpachi frowns. "She told me you slept on the couch last night."

"Because I couldn't get comfortable on my futon," Gintoki yawns, although the fact that Shinpachi doesn't buy his excuse may as well be tattooed across the boy's forehead.

"We're just a little concerned, that's all. You've been so exhausted the past few days…"

Something warm and fuzzy wraps itself around Gintoki's heart at the sound of the worry in Shinpachi's voice, although it's quickly replaced by a squeeze of anxiety because as much as he appreciates that they care so much, he really doesn't want to cause them any trouble. Especially not over something as stupid as a few silly nightmares.

"I'm tired but I'll live," Gintoki waves a hand nonchalantly, and, after a short pause, adds a quick "you two worry too much" for good measure. "We haven't had a job in a few days anyways, so does it really matter right now, right?"

"Ah, I guess it's fine as long as we don't have work…" Despite his words, Shinpachi's eyebrows draw together and a small crease appears between them. It irks Gintoki — worry creases are out of place on sixteen-year-old boys, and he has to actively stop himself from reaching over and smoothing it out. "If we do get work though, Kagura and I can handle it. At least until you rest up a bit." Gintoki opens his mouth to protest, but Shinpachi cuts him off. "Don't argue with me on this one, Gin-san. Let us do something for you every once in a while, okay?"

Gintoki lets out a defeated sigh that quickly turns into a yawn. "Okay, okay, fine. But just until I buy a new futon, okay? And only if I'm actually that tired. I can still work just fine."

Shinpachi shakes his head fondly, but doesn't press the matter any further, and Gintoki feels some of the tension in his shoulders release. He knows that Shinpachi knows that he's trying not to let on just how exhausted he is; he's long past believing that he can hide anything from the kids. That won't stop him from downplaying his feelings when things gets bad, though – he hates the idea of bothering them with his cocktail of emotional baggage, and this time around all he needs is one night's good sleep and he'll be fine, so there legitimately isn't anything to be concerned about in the first place.

And so what if he's slightly anxious when he thinks about having to go to sleep tonight? So what if he's been wondering on and off all day what hell his brain will put him through tonight? That's just the fatigue talking; he'll probably sleep just fine tonight, and tomorrow he'll wake up refreshed and the kids will stop worrying about him and they'll get a job and everything will be fine.

(…right?)