That junk called comrades that's inside, is a glistening treasure ya know.
-0-
"Alright everyone. Lights out, mouths shut!"
Light murmuring and shuffling could be heard, which was followed by the lights flickering off, before the room was plunged into darkness. Messy futons and what could be called mats were scattered among the floor, disorganized and arranged lazily. Soldiers crawled to their own little spot in the rather crowded room, flopping onto either their futon, which only the injured were lucky enough to have, or their mat; most of which were stained with blood, and was more of a messy arrangement of fabric on the floor.
It was stuffy. Wherever you settled, you could always feel someone's back brushing against you, or the odd foot if you were unfortunate enough. There were no complaints, though. A place to sleep was all that the rebels needed and were happy with. They were happy to be alive, above anything. They were still recovering from their collision with the opposing army. It had hit them hard; and as the war continued to rage the on, more soldiers fell, and the number of casualties increased. When you looked at it as a whole, it wasn't the best situation to be stuck in the middle of.
When the war began, you'd hear the occasional 'look on the bright side'
The thing was, there was no bright side to look on anymore. Most of the soldiers couldn't see the bright side, even if they looked.
They were too blind with grief.
It had been quite the miserable evening for the Joui. And so, as the patriots were ordered to sleep, there were no childish protests. Katsura didn't object with regards to stopping a rather heated game of UNO which had yet to be finished, which definitely wasn't like him at all. Not to mention that Sakamoto hadn't laughed for the past few hours, which only proved how serious things were. It was a shame really-a good laugh always brightened the mood. However, it was rather unfortunate that when Sakamoto laughed, he didn't sound like he was laughing. He sounded like a constipated sheep. So, it was kind of a good thing that Tatsuma had his mouth shut for once, in a way.
Gintoki lazily lifted his head and blinked in the darkness, allowing his half lidded eyes, which were currently in the middle of adjusting to the dark, to scan the room. He was fortunate enough to be sleeping on a futon, and had been sleeping on said futon for a few hours now, because of 'doctor's orders'. This of course, just meant that Katsura had nagged at him to get some rest because he had been pretty heavily injured. His comrade had also made someone watch him so he didn't escape from the room- and Gintoki had to admit, the thought of someone watching him while he slept was pretty freaky.
It couldn't be helped. The Joui didn't really have any particular doctor, and Katsura, out of all the other soldiers, was most suited for the role.
He had treated Gintoki's wounds, and even made sure that he was tucked in properly. Turned out that the long-haired samurai had a 'mother mode' to him which was triggered by wounds and messy sheets.
At this point, all Gintoki could see were black blobs huddled together on the floor around him. That was, until, his eyes adjusted. Now he could briefly make out Sakamoto's curly hair from across the room, and Katsura's eyes.
Katsura's eyes which were open, despite the fact that he was snoring.
Not everyone knew that Katsura had a knack for sleeping with his eyes open, and when people first saw it, they were rather disturbed; which was completely understandable, considering that he slept with thememwide /emopen. It wouldn't be as weird to look at if they were just open. But they weren't just 'open'. They were abnormally wide. So wide, that if Katsura was awake, his expression would suggest that he'd just seen somebody naked.
Gintoki stared at Katsura's sleeping face for a few moments. He sighed through his nose before letting his head fall back onto his pillow.
The samurai couldn't fall asleep. He rolled onto his back and drew in a long breath, huffing loudly like a restless child.
It was impossible to tell who would win the war. The Amanto had an overwhelming technology advantage which put the samurai on a completely different level, and they had space-ships, and foreign weaponry that they had never seen before. The aliens towered over them, often doubling them in size, and even without their weapons, they were dangerously strong.
But the samurai had their swords, and their spirit. They had a code.
What the Amanto didn't have was a sense of comradeship or companionship. They had no code to follow, or laws to live by.
The only thing that the invaders wanted to do was kill.
The ever-lasting battle seemed to stretch on forever.
Rolling back onto his side, Gintoki carefully pushed himself up from the futon, biting his lip to hold back the groan that was bubbling in the back of his throat. He grunted from the effort, his arms trembling slightly from the weight of his injured form, weak and lacking the strength to even swing his sword. When he had successfully risen from the floor he struggled to his feet, swaying a little, dangerously close to falling on top of the sleeping Katsura nearby.
As he looked around the room, he noticed that everyone was fast asleep. They were all tired, and almost everyone had some sort of injury.
Gintoki regained his balance, blinking, and slowly began picking his way through the multiple huddled figures on the floor, nearly stepping on a hand and barely missing a face as he did so. When he had finally managed to avoid crushing anyone on his treacherous journey to the door, he slipped outside.
The cold night air left him breathless for a second, the sudden change of temperature overwhelming. A clear night's sky hung overhead, adorned with stars and splashed a dark shade of black and blue. The silver-haired samurai began to trudge slowly away from the temple from which he had emerged from, easily shaking away thoughts of the cold, and actually finding it quite refreshing. He let it crawl along his bandaged chest, partially numbing the injury that tore across his torso, and he allowed the wind to tug gently at his hair.
The patriot turned a corner, not really sure where he was walking to. He just needed to be outside; to be able to breathe.
The night was still, blending unexpectedly well with a restless wind. The trees circling the base, guarding it, allowed their leaves to flow along with the will of the breeze. Each grass stalk beneath his feet was defined carefully by the misty glow that radiated from the full moon in the sky; silver.
However, upon spotting someone on the small stretch of grass nearby, Gintoki suddenly stopped. The figure, who he instantly recognized in the darkness as Takasugi, had his hands positioned behind his head, and his gaze directed towards the sky. The silver-haired samurai quirked a brow, before blinking and slowly walking over to the unsuspecting Shinsuke, despite his injuries and the struggle it brought, his footsteps surprisingly light. When he reached the grass, he grunted as he attempted to settle beside Takasugi, all the while remembering to keep his distance. But instead of sitting down, he clumsily fell backwards, abruptly flopping onto his back and letting out a loud 'Umph!'
"Tatata..." The man had a pained expression scribbled across his face, his brow furrowed deeply and the corner of his mouth tugging downwards.
Takasugi didn't even spare Gintoki a glance.
"I'm surprised you don't have your head wedged in a book." He commented, rubbing his arm and frowning, still recovering from his fall. He gave Shinsuke a quick look from the corner of his eye.
"I'm surprised you're not dead yet." Takasugi retorted swiftly, not even offering Gintoki a glance.
Gintoki simply clicked his tongue and allowed himself to relax on the grass, sighing through his nose. He was surprised that Takasugi didn't mind his presence, but he brushed the thought aside. Sometimes, part of him actually thought that Takasugi found him...tolerable. But that assumption was always dismissed when the name calling started, and their swords were drawn. They weren't the best of friends, but Gintoki had to admit, he didn't particularly dislike the idea of just lying there with him. For now, he would tolerate it.
Gintoki allowed his eyes to drift upwards and observe the sky, dominated by stars. The man blinked. He lifted up an arm and brought it up behind his head to use as a pillow, almost mimicking his comrade's pose.
"If Zura finds out you're out here," Takasugi murmured, removing a hand from behind his head and resting it on his chest. "He'll kill you." His eyes flashed a piercing green in the moonlight, the white glow adorning his hair and his blood stained uniform a serene shade of silver.
Gintoki scratched at the bandages wrapped around his chest, closing his eyes for a moment.
The next few moments were followed by silence.
"What are you doing out here anyway, Yakult-breath?"
"I like to have some time to think, bastard."
Gintoki blinked an eye open and glanced sideways at Takasugi.
From the moment that he had lay down beside him, Gintoki had noticed that Takasugi wasn't himself. From the way his posture stiffened every so often, and the way that his feet twitched or he moved his legs around, it made it quite obvious that he was frustrated about something; thinking about something. For some reason, Shinsuke never seemed to accept defeat. It always wound him up whenever something went wrong, and the only thing that they got out of it was injury.
Takasugi had always been a quiet one. When they were younger-when they weren't at each other's throats-Shinsuke was quite distant, and didn't socialize with other children much. He liked to keep to himself. Or rather, when he was irritated, he would find somewhere quiet to cool down by himself. He would always wander off on his own, left alone with his thoughts. He was a man who lived in the past, constantly dwelling on events that had passed, and letting it get to him.
That was why he was like a monster in battle.
It was also why he could be such a d*** at times.
Takasugi hadn't changed at all.
"Tch, anyway..." Takasugi took the liberty of continuing when he didn't receive a reply. "...I could ask you the same question." The man turned his head and gave Gintoki a look through a pair of narrowed green eyes. "What are you doing ou-"
"What are you doing out here, Gintoki?"
Both patriots flinched a little upon hearing a new voice. Gintoki quirked an eyebrow, immediately recognising it, and stuck a finger in his ear.
Katsura blinked and positioned himself next to Gintoki on the grass, falling back onto the ground next to his comrade with a sigh, letting out a soft grunt as he did so.
Katsura could be scary at times. When someone was injured, he would take it into his own hands to make sure that they didn't injure themselves further. Hence why he had stalked Gintoki upon noticing his absence.
"Zura," Gintoki removed his finger from his ear, inspecting it in the moonlight and wiping whatever was on it on the grass. "Since when did you become a ninja?" he turned his head to look at the man next to him.
"Ninja janai, Katsura da," Katsura replied, resting his hands behind his head. Surprisingly, the long-haired samurai didn't mention anything about Gintoki not being allowed outside. He simply copied his friends and looked up at the sky.
Katsura was a man of patience. Unlike Takasugi, who was angered by their recent loss and was itching to jump back into battle, he had accepted the fact that they had failed, and instead sought to setting his mind to the things right in front of him. Most of the medical attention had been provided by him, despite the fact that he had a few injuries of his own; he put other people before himself, whatever kind of emotions were building up inside.
He was the opposite of Takasugi. He wasn't a retarded wreck of emotions.
Katsura was the same old idiot that always got pissed when called by his nickname, always slurring back the same response in his defence.
Another silence followed.
"Hey...That cluster of stars over there looks like a d***." Gintoki raised a hand and pointed to what looked like some sort of constellation in the sky.
Katsura hummed an agreement, nodding his head slowly as he noticed what Gintoki was pointing at. He held his chin for a moment in deep thought. "Oh yeah," He murmured. "It does."
"Tch, disgusting."
"Alright, Takasugi. We didn't ask for your life story."
Shinsuke growled his annoyance. "Tsk, get lost perm-face."
"Oi, Zura. Do I have a perm on my face?" Gintoki turned to Katsura, ignoring Takasugi's threat that followed shortly after.
"I'll make sure your face is just as messed up as your hair in a minute." He grumbled under his breath.
"Zura janai, Katsura da." Katsura didn't look particularly impressed. "And you're not dragging me into this."
"We've already dragged you into this. There's no escaping now."
"Don't listen to that idiot, Zura."
"Zura janai, Katsura da!"
"Gintoki put a finger to his chin and thought for a moment. "Oi...Do you think the Amanto have d***s?"
"What."
"Hm..." At this point, Katsura and Gintoki were both holding their chins. "I don't know. Hey, why don't we ask one next time we see one?"
Gintoki nodded his agreement.
Takasugi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"So stupid..." He muttered to himself.
"We know you are, Takasugi."
"Want me to kill you, bastard?"
"Well, you know what they say. Pick on someone your own size."
Takasugi scoffed lightly and cracked his knuckles
Katsura was still thinking about whether or not Amanto had d***s.
"And Gintoki was preparing to beat the absolute s*** out of Takasugi.
-0-
Comrades. No matter how stupid or idiotic they are...
They're a glistening treasure ya know.
*suddenly crawls in after not updating for ages*
Phew, this one-shot thing took longer to write than it should have. I'm such a lazy person. *drags hand slowly down face* But, it is quite long compared to the others, so that makes everything fine :D
It really doesn't but y'know, there's a smiley face so if that doesn't make things better, then I don't know what will. On another note, I didn't include Sakamoto in this chapter. I think I just wanted to write something with these three idiots in. But don't worry, the laughing idiot will return.
Have a pepsi [~]
