Heaven Knows Everyone Is Miserable Now
Chapter 13: Currency
Gintoki sat on the porch with his back against the wall. A dozen feet from him, Hijikata tilled the soil under Pirako's guidance while Jirocho kept away in his room, forced to rest by his daughter and forbidden from doing any task, no matter how small, so as to repent for his callousness. Two days prior, Pirako had caught him red-handed washing bloodstains off the old Subaru, and she had raised a racket when, after checking his dressing, she found his wound leaking. Jirocho had not left his room since. Gintoki had seen the clumps of dirty gauze, the color of the smears. Blood and pus leaked out of the infected wound. There was little that could be done. Pirako's sobs seized their nights, muffled whimpers fearful of the future. The sound was hard to recall as Gintoki watched her now, instructing Hijikata about the right spacing to plant gourds.
Gintoki wanted to help. The weight of guilt was too heavy for him to yield to his petty resentment of the old man. Moreover, the wound in his arm was healing well, not nearly as debilitating as Jirocho's. He hardly wore the arm sling anymore, except to feign obedience. A sham he acted to ingratiate himself with his hosts who still eyed him with suspicion. They had not met Gintoki under the best of auspices. His strained relationship with Hijikata which, like before, always teetered on the edge of a fight because of their clashing personalities, gave Jirocho and Pirako no sense of security. Gintoki was still perceived as a threat, an unknown. As he saw it, the way to prove himself was through meekness. To lie low as he healed. Build trust. Hijikata had not told him much about the time he had spent at the house before they had reunited, but Gintoki could tell Hijikata had followed a similar pattern. Choosing the right role to play was part of surviving the new world too, and going for the role of a jaded, sick man was preferable to many others. Furthermore, Gintoki found that his body welcomed the rest. He could feel himself getting stronger, not only physically but mentally, and the fog of his days among the rotters lifting.
Nevertheless, the current problem of Jirocho's infected wound required a solution that would not be found at the house. To a modest degree they had food, water, shelter, a sturdy fence that protected them from the rotters, but not the medical supplies they needed to treat Jirocho's infection. For that, they had to go out and find them. Time trickled slowly and ever more painfully the more they avoided the issue, though Gintoki understood why. There were sacrifices and trust problems involved that delayed them taking definitive action. If Pirako left to go search for antiseptics and found none, she would lose precious time she might have spent by her father's side. If Gintoki went at it alone, who could trust him to return? And if Hijikata did, how could Pirako and Jirocho trust Gintoki not to harm them in Hijikata's absence?
One thing brought Gintoki comfort. He had the power to change at least one of those outcomes. Two, if he was lucky.
He rose and went in search of a map. He opened drawers and looked under the piles of magazines and comic books Pirako left scattered around the house until he found the corner of a worn map peeking out of Jirocho's bag in the hall. Gintoki pulled out the map and spread it over the low table of the living room. The map wasn't very different from the one he had kept on his person while travelling amongst the dead. Cleaner and less crumpled, maybe, but familiar enough that Gintoki recognized the area. His eyes pored over the most grueling spots, the places where he had left a mess of bodies behind. The ones where he had holed up for a quick doze.
Little scribbles across the map caught his attention. A repeated kanji that meant either Bird or Crow had been written down next to various crosses. Gintoki quickly put two and two together.
The corpse eater whose head you destroyed, the one they call The Crow.
Jirocho had marked down his sightings of the priest. They weren't dated, but Gintoki knew a few of them to be true since he had crossed paths with the priest at three of Jirocho's marked spots. The first, and also the farthest, the gas station close to the bridge where he had gotten separated from Hijikata. It was hard to determine the priest's trail across the region, whether he had followed a path or simply wandered without destination. Gintoki himself had not bothered to learn much about him other than ways to finish him off. However, he noticed the amount of crosses Jirocho had jotted down on the edge of the map, westward beyond the gas station, towards the other side of the mountain. The direction Sarutobi had run with the kids.
A weight pressed against Gintoki's chest. He inhaled deeply, tried to keep his mind on the present.
"What are you lookin' at?" Pirako's voice was quiet. She appeared beside him with curious eyes, bottom lip under her teeth.
"Searching for places where I might find something to help your dad."
"Pops is fine!" she replied at once.
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
"He just needs rest!"
"I think more rest is going to turn your Pops into something worse than those rotters out there."
"No, it's not!"
"Just leave it to Big Brother here, alright? You're doing great keeping those two distracted. Can you keep it up for, uh-" Gintoki paused to make some quick mental calculations before resuming, "Seventy-two hours? Wait, no, maybe ninety-six? How many days is that, four? I guess it all depends on how reliable that old Subaru of yours is. I don't think gas will be a problem, I got a plastic tube to siphon it stashed somewhere. The old gas station has got to have a spare if my last place got overrun-"
"What are ya' mumbling on about?" Dread paled Pirako's complexion. She fell to her knees beside Gintoki and her next words were spoken in a whisper, "You are leaving."
"Someone's gotta." Gintoki said.
"But," Pirako looked over her shoulder towards Hijikata's figure crouched in the garden outside, "He just found you again."
Gintoki's deadpan gaze followed hers, unblinking. He tried not to attribute much to her statement.
"What of it?"
"Your arm is not fully healed yet. You can't leave." she said.
"You have good aim, kid, but I have gone through worse. You don't need to worry about me. A couple more days and I'm pulling these stitches out myself."
Pirako's hand was warm and tiny above his.
"Please. He will follow you if you go. Don't leave."
Something twisted in Gintoki's gut. He tried to shift his gaze from Hijikata to Pirako, but he couldn't do it. He clutched his chest looking for the ring necklace that wasn't there. Its weight around his neck had felt comforting in times of uncertainty, in the nights when he had been unable to find sleep. He felt naked without it and, abruptly, ravaged by a wave of self-hatred as he realized how he had deprived Hijikata of that same comfort, that protection around his finger — the memories it allowed its wearer to evoke to keep the dark at bay.
"Are you in pain?"
Gintoki answered with a shake of his head. Days passed, hours, minutes, and all of Gintoki's decisions seemed to come to light as hideous little creatures he could not sever from himself. They were a poison in his blood. A curse. Perhaps Jirocho hadn't been so far off the mark. Perhaps Gintoki had really taken the mantle of that damned priest, carrying with him nothing but horrors only punishment could relieve.
Not this. Gintoki thought, eyes still full of Hijikata, surrounded by green sprouts and a dozen other buds of new life.
Gintoki needed to get back on track. To employ himself before his delusions got the better of him.
"Don't you want the old man to get better?" Gintoki asked, resting his chin on his hand, "You know his wound is infected."
"Hijikata-san has taught me how to clean the wound and change the dressing. I have a ton of those. I can keep doin' it until the wound starts to heal."
"Did Hijikata-san tell you about the last guy we met with an infected wound?" Gintoki stopped before he revealed more than Pirako could take. Zenzou's demise was too miserable a story to tell a girl on the brink.
"No."
"Yeah, he wouldn't," Gintoki said, "He's soft on you."
"I don't deserve it."
"Didn't you save his life?"
"Yeah. But I also kept him here against his will when he was recoverin'. He wanted to go lookin' for ya'. Me and Pops had to stop him a few times."
A few times.
Gintoki hummed low in his throat. It was a sound committed to nothing but fabricated surprise. He had made sure Hijikata would follow him, didn't she know that? Gintoki looked into Pirako's dark eyes, looking for an angle. Was she trying to manipulate him? Pull his strings like a puppet? Did she think he had given her that much leeway? Did she think he had given it to Hijikata? What purpose did Gintoki serve her that she didn't want him to leave? Or was it Hijikata leaving that scared her?
"Didn't ya' also save his life?" Pirako reminded him, "He saved yours the other day. You can't leave now that ya' found each other again."
Her answers showed no signs of a deeper plot. If anything, they made Gintoki's heart stutter with conflicted feelings, unworthy, as he felt himself, of the tiniest symptom of Hijikata's care. Yes, he had called Gintoki 'friend'. Yes, he had stitched him up and bandaged him. He had helped Gintoki dress. He had done so many things Gintoki had not been ready for. Gintoki refused to take them for granted.
"He's fine. He has his ring back," Gintoki said, "Besides, I'll come back. If you can't believe my promise, believe your old man. He seems to think I am some freak that drinks human blood and has already turned."
"That's nuts, Pops is-"
Gintoki heard the old wood paneling creak as Hijikata pulled out his muddy boots and walked barefoot across the porch before coming into view. His skin glistened with a light sheen of sweat. The sun had lavished him with color. He looked more healthy and alive than Gintoki had ever seen him before. Dazzling. It was no wonder the girl was also smitten with him.
"Hey, Hijikata-kun, how's the farm life?"
"Shut up."
Gintoki blessed Hijikata's gruffness. He might have just stood there staring, mouth open like a fool, if Hijikata didn't have such a short fuse.
"It suits you," Gintoki teased him, "Maybe you're not the city boy I took you for."
"Whatever. What's this?"
Hijikata's gaze fell on the map spread on the table.
"I'm deciding my itinerary." Gintoki replied.
"Where?"
"There's a clinic on the outskirts of a town west of here," Gintoki said, pointing towards said spot on the map, "I'm going to check it out, see if I can find some antiseptics for the old man."
Hijikata's reply came promptly.
"When are we leaving?"
"We are not going anywhere. I don't think you were invited."
"You can't go alone. Your arm-"
"Mothering me, Hijikata-kun?" Gintoki smiled, honest feeling seeping out, "Country life has softened you."
"I didn't-" Hijikata's cheeks reddened. His brows furrowed, spurning the ridicule. Gintoki took in the sight with pleasure, but not so much that he gave Hijikata reason to think he was off the hook.
"So you want to leave me here alone with sweet Pirako-chan?" Gintoki asked him, turning his eyes towards Pirako who looked from one man to another with apprehension, "Who's going to tell her dad?"
Hijikata's hands balled into fists as he considered Gintoki's proposal.
Gintoki grinned.
"Yeah, thought so."
But Hijikata wasn't done. He kneeled down beside Gintoki and Pirako and twisted the map his way to study the route.
"I'll come with."
Pirako froze. Gintoki noticed how she stilled, how her eyes fixated on Hijikata and her mouth trembled as she scrambled for things to say. It was then his suspicions grew as to her reasons for keeping the two of them at the house. Maybe it wasn't the fact she had a silly crush on Hijikata, but something more dire and undeniably human. Something that put her at her odds with her father.
"Hijikata-kun, you really don't want to leave my side, uh?" Gintoki teased.
"I'm just making sure you come back with those meds." Hijikata replied sourly.
"Is that supposed to sting?"
"I don't care," Hijikata said. He took one last look at the map before rising to his feet, "I'm going to pack."
When Hijikata left, Pirako's eyes fell on Gintoki full of wisdom and regret. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.
"Told ya'."
"I don't know what magic you worked on that bastard, but you forgot to moon-tiara-action his stubbornness away."
Pirako squinted.
"You're a bit thick, aren't ya'?"
"Oi, Pirako-chan, are you being cruel to me? Again?" Gintoki gestured towards his arm tucked in the sling.
"Promise me you'll come back." Pirako said, eyes cast down.
More than the rotters, more than the world gone wrong, loneliness was Pirako's burden. Hijikata had given her a taste of company, a world beyond the confines of the little garden of security she had built with her father. And now Gintoki as well. She didn't shy away from him, in spite of Jirocho's ravings and warnings. She sought Gintoki out, worried about his wound, asked him what he liked to eat, if the sling was too tight, if he liked what she had done with the house, what his favorite comic books were. Gintoki couldn't blame her initial distrust for what he had done to her father, but he saw how that mistake had not deterred her. She still reached out to him and gave him a second chance. One Gintoki was resolute in taking.
"I'll come back as soon as possible." he said.
"And protect Hijikata-san," Pirako bid him, for unlike Gintoki, she knew what Hijikata had tried to do under that bridge to hasten his way to a sorry end, "I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to him."
Gintoki scoffed.
"And me? Am I disposable?"
"You're a freak who drinks human blood. You can't die." Pirako said, lips drawn into a smile.
Gintoki smiled in return.
"I won't let him out of my sight."
Toujou and Sakamoto's voices echoed a soft prattle on the other side of the screen door, while Kyuubei's brief replies arbitrated their discussion with a restrained tone. The negotiations went on until Sarutobi's feet became numb, yet she didn't move from her assigned spot on the corridor outside the meeting room. Lady Otaki had told her to wait there until Master Kyuubei called for her. She had drawled on and on about ceremony and keeping up with the traditions of the house, the usual charade. However, when Sarutobi had tried to pry actual information from the shrewd old woman, Lady Otaki had deflected her questions with calls to Sarutobi's vulgar nature. "Heed my advice, girl. It's easier to rise in the ranks when you know your place," she had said before a sudden summons had carried her away to the courtyard to settle the matter of a breach in regulations which involved, unbeknownst to Sarutobi who had fled the scene the moment she had noticed Toujou and Sakamoto retreat from the crowd, none other than Kagura and Shinpachi.
The interval of time between Sarutobi sneaking out of sight to worm herself into the room with the leaders and the end of Kagura's clash with the caravan people was enough for some of the folk in line at the courtyard to send their complaints to the old hag. The estate inhabitants who had been there the longest knew exactly who to call when things needed to be done, and Kagura's greed required punishment. Thus, Lady Otaki departed the meeting of leaders to go discipline the unruly new kids, leaving Sarutobi to eavesdrop as much as she wanted.
Sarutobi would later learn of Shinpachi and Kagura's fates. The former was consigned to a week of laundry duty and the latter sent to a dark room below the kitchens to do inventory and clean the place of cobwebs and rats, with no prospect of future outings until Lady Otaki deemed her truly remorseful.
"Farming equipment is no trouble at all, no trouble at all!" Sakamoto's voice boomed inside the meeting room, warm and encompassing, "Finding it is a cinch. Powering it? Not as much. We can get you more rudimentary tools. The real issue is crop seeds."
"We're still cataloging the surplus we've found at the farms we liberated." Kyuubei said.
"Yes," Toujou confirmed, "Most of what we found so far is in good condition, but it's not enough for us to become self-sustaining yet. We have scavenging parties in rotation for nonperishables."
"That's alright, we've brought a full van this time. Found a jerky factory on the way, hahaha!"
"Was that why you were late?" Toujou's voice was sharp.
"Well, yeah, but what really delayed us were the roads. That rain a few weeks ago flooded a few shortcuts we used to take here. We had to find other passages, clear the tracks in some cases. That truck doesn't make our job any easier, haha!"
Sarutobi heard Toujou sigh.
"So, what's your estimate for, uh, relocating people to the new farming location?" Sakamoto asked, "A couple more weeks and it's redline for some of the local crops. I mean, chop-chop!"
"We've yet to decide on long term logistics." Toujou replied, always cryptic and offering nothing. Sarutobi rolled her eyes.
"You know what the problem is." Kyuubei added.
"Oh, that," Sakamoto's voice acquired a surreptitious low pitch, "The true currency of the world."
Sarutobi stilled as Kyuubei articulated what Sarutobi suspected from the first moment she had stepped inside the gates of the Yagyuu estate.
"Between the scavenging parties, the clearing groups, managing the estate and keeping everyone fed and protected, there's not enough numbers left to relocate safely to the farms. We need more people."
"It will be much easier to convince folks to move here if you can provide some assurances. Not knowing whether you're gonna be on the edge of starvation next week ain't helping your case." Sakamoto replied, his friendly voice off-putting with how directly he spoke of the dire circumstances of Kyuubei's people.
"You could help us and yourselves by sharing more supplies." Toujou said.
"Oi, oi, we are basically doing charity here, remember? What we ask of you is incredibly little compared to what we give you in return. You can understand how hard it is to pitch your demands to our people up there, right?"
"You said it," Kyuubei replied, "True currency. We're ready to give it to you."
"You sound confident enough." Sakamoto observed.
"I am."
"Promising young troopers, are they?"
"Please come in, Sarutobi-san."
Sarutobi was too concentrated in the conversation to realize her summons had come. She jerked in surprise, but proceeded to slid open the screen door as soon as possible, entering the room with as much composure as she was able to gather. Her eyes met Kyuubei first, then Toujou, then finally Sakamoto. The caravan leader sat across a square table from the other two, dark sunglasses perched halfway down his nose. Behind him stretched the tail of his long overcoat, a bright red gash across the tatami floor. Memories of the shrine resurfaced in Sarutobi's mind, the wet towels dripping with Zenzou's blood, the bloody floors of the shed where they had locked Soyo. Zenzou's lips on her hair. We did good.
Sarutobi kneeled beside Kyuubei and bowed.
"I'm Sarutobi Ayame, pleased to meet you."
Sakamoto's eyes peered at her above the dark lenses of his glasses.
"Sakamoto Tatsuma. Charmed."
He bestowed upon her his own polite bow, then he turned to Kyuubei, "Is this it?"
"There are two others."
Sakamoto crossed his arms.
"We have taken more."
"We were waiting for another two, but alas..."
Kyuubei's words trailed away as Sarutobi locked eyes. Sakamoto's question interrupted them.
"Handle yourself well in a fight, do ya' miss?"
"Do you?"
A big grin spread over Sakamoto's face.
"Oh, I like her already."
"I've invited her to stay with us, but she is devoted to her charges." Kyuubei said.
"Big points for devotion." Sakamoto beamed.
"What is going on?" Sarutobi's question burst forth. Her chest rose and fell with breaths she could not quite control and the unshakable feeling she was a piece of meat for sale at the market.
"Our trade with Biwa is simple," Kyuubei said, "Goods for people."
"Even though we could do with some people ourselves." Toujou muttered between gritted teeth.
"So you're selling me and the kids?" Sarutobi's voice was thin.
"Selling is too strong a word," Kyuubei noted, "Did you not want to go to Biwa? This is your ticket there."
The backhanded reply was a hard slap in Sarutobi's face. The pain of betrayal hit her twofold for having fallen into Kyuubei's scheme and trusted them to protect her interests. Everything Kyuubei had told Sarutobi, including their offer to stay, turned to ash in Sarutobi's mouth. Maybe there had been some truth to it. Sarutobi had certainly felt it — whatever disclosed between them in that room across the Yagyuu's heavenly garden. Nonetheless, realizing she had not been told everything caught Sarutobi unawares. She loathed Kyuubei most of all for that. For withholding information after preaching about truth, after extending her a welcoming hand.
"What happens once we get there?" Sarutobi asked, refusing to show weakness.
Sakamoto's shoulders sagged.
"Due process," he sighed, "A bit of the ol' world. You'll have a blast. Nothing like this old pile of rubble here."
"You watch your tongue, mongrel!"
"You're so funny, Koujou!" Sakamoto laughed. He pointed a thumb at Toujou and whispered to Sarutobi, "Great guy."
The funny antics escaped her, though. Apprehension made Sarutobi oblivious to jokes. She needed assurances and she needed them fast before panic set in and her backup plan of escaping the Yagyuu estate with Kagura and Shinpachi became, once again, her only option. Despite Kyuubei's crude way of engendering their ticket to Biwa, Sarutobi could not discard the opportunity. She had promised to protect the kids and take them to a safe place, to find Shinpachi's sister, if she could.
"And are we free to leave?" she wondered, "Since you need people, I suppose you don't let them go that easily."
"Oh, of course you are!" Sakamoto chuckled, "Honestly, not many people want to leave, but yes there have been a few instances. Two of them have come here, in fact. You can ask Eyepatch Lord."
"Young Master, please tell this mongrel we don't take kindly to his spies, even though we feed them and put a roof over their heads. He should be raising our quota as we speak!"
Sakamoto and Kyuubei both ignored Toujou's vitriol. Sakamoto carried on with a raised finger, seemingly eager to put Sarutobi's worries to rest.
"You'll have to adhere to our strict schedule if you want a ride back. We have many stops. A lot of wheelin' and dealin' to do. Work, work, work. That's our caravan. Guys at the city will take care of ya'."
"The city?"
"City, settlement, haven, whatever you want to call it," Sakamoto shrugged, "Started as the West Central Honshu Survival Central, became known as Shiga Shelter, was overrun, then after the move south it became Biwa Settlement. You'd be surprised how big our community is, the scope of it. Impressive, really, if you take into account the lunatics who manage it, hahahaha!"
"I see Mutsu-san is not with you anymore." Kyuubei's remark wiped the smile from Sakamoto's face. His congenial gaze withdrew behind dark lenses and the corners of his mouth turned up in a forced smile.
"Yeah, she caught a cold."
Sarutobi adjusted her glasses. For the first time, she saw the boisterous man retract. Everybody carried a little pain with them, she thought.
"I hope she can visit us again next time." Kyuubei's tone was formal.
"Me too." Sakamoto replied.
The light was faint inside Jirocho's room as if the foulness spreading from his wound swallowed all brightness into itself. Pirako had left the window open so the stale air, spiked with the smell of blood and sickness, dissipated. Jirocho coughed when Hijikata entered. His eyes skimmed over Hijikata's outfit before meeting his face with a scowl.
"What's the matter?"
Hijikata sat down beside him.
"We are going out. There's a place not far from here where we might find something to treat you."
Jirocho spat.
"I'm perfectly fine. The body takes care of itself, I just need more time."
"We're going." Hijikata said again, a polite repetition that dismissed Jirocho's refusal, "Your daughter will stay."
"Of course she will. As if I would let you take her with you," Jirocho mumbled the last part under his breath, "Where are you going? Most spots nearby are combed clean. Ain't never been much to begin with around here. "
"West, where you found me."
Jirocho grunted. He gazed at the window to the cloudy sky outside, recalling the night he and Pirako had stumbled upon a semi-conscious Hijikata under a bridge.
"Bad luck that town," Jirocho said, "Medic post too close to the center. You'll have better luck checking the drugstore. I used to know the owner, a rat bastard."
"Bad luck, you say?" Hijikata asked, "What makes it so different from all the other overrun towns?"
Jirocho was silent for a moment. The hard lines of obstinacy, deepened by age, by labor, by sorrow, hardened across his face. His lips were a thin line as he pondered his response.
"Ask your friend." Jirocho said curtly.
No doubt, Gintoki was a sore spot. Mention of him tended to derail Hijikata's train of thought, but it was not enough to hinder him now. He had slammed shut thoughts of Gintoki inside a particular compartment of his mind where they nested and festered in the advent of their trip together, and during which Hijikata was sure they would return in size to terrorize him with unseen consequences. What Hijikata required of Jirocho bespoke no mention of Gintoki, in fact, Hijikata knew the old man was using him to deflect Hijikata's questions. He could tell he was under interrogation and, afflicted as he was, vulnerable to pressure. So Hijikata swatted the sand Jirocho threw in his eyes and steered the conversation towards his goal.
"I meant to ask you," Hijikata said after a brief pause, "You said they called him the Crow. Who are they?"
Except for a twitch of his brow, there was no change to Jirocho's somber expression.
"Nobody. Just a form of expression. How plain do you want it?"
"Plainer."
The brow twitched again.
"The creature surrounds hi'sself with corpses. He roams with the carrion. What else am I supposed to call him?"
Jirocho's justification stank. He had his eyes closed, faking a willingness to rest Hijikata knew well enough Jirocho could not abide.
"It's not my business to question whether or not you've met this Crow. But if there's other people out there I need you to tell me about them."
"I thought you were running from people. Isn't that what you were doing when that punk left you for dead under the bridge?"
Hijikata took a deep breath. He refused to let pettiness win. Gintoki had not left him to die. He had gone looking for him. He had said so himself. He took my ring. Hijikata shook his head to dispel the intrusive thoughts. They seemed to have a life of their own for how easily they stole his focus. How easily they made a wretch of him.
"You said there were mercenaries chasing you, but we didn't find them at the school. We found that corpse eater instead. Who are you to demand anything from me? You're damn right, it's none of your business." Jirocho said.
"You're scared for your daughter."
"She's protected here."
"She's alone."
"I may not be much company, but she has me, whatever comes."
"That wound in your belly has come."
"That's not a line you want to cross, punk."
Hijikata's words cut deep. Jirocho's eyes gleamed, two dark pins in a sea of white. His sheathed sword lay against the wall not far from reach.
"We'll fetch your medicine and be out of your hair. It's the least we can do for your troubles. You'll be up again and we will leave you and your kid alone. What does it matter to you where we're going? You believe those people you spoke of are dangerous?"
Silence filled the room while Jirocho pondered his next words. Hijikata was glad to hear them, in spite of their bitterness.
"How long has it been since you lived in a community? I don't mean a raggedy band of six or eight people. I mean those early day shelters. Groups of fifty, sixty, a hundred people or more?"
"I didn't think they existed anymore."
"Very few now. Things work different there. Ultimately, the leaders will disappoint you. They can't do what needs to be done. And they will never put your family first. Everyone is equal. For better or worse."
Regret replaced relief. Jirocho's words fell heavy on Hijikata's conscience. He recalled his time at the government shelter with Kondo and the others soon after the virus had broken loose. The choices he had been forced to make. The rationing, the punishments, the burnings. The fate of his wife.
"So you left yours?"
"I took control," Jirocho replied, "Tried to get a few of us together to hunt the Crow once we got a whiff of him. But most people at the shelter were too scared to even mention his name. We are in the dark now. No television, no newspapers, no radio. The things people say, the whispers they spread, they become the truth. You can do nothing against other people's fears. The only fear you can master is your own."
"Is your old shelter still standing?"
"No," Jirocho said, "It fell a while ago. But there's another one west of here. I've seen their cars drive by north of the bridge. Never got close enough to their walls. The Crow haunts the lands there."
"You mean haunted." Hijikata corrected him, itching for a cigarette.
Jirocho grunted and cleared his throat.
"What Pirako is to you, there's two kids like her waiting for him… for us." Hijikata hesitated, afraid to implicate himself, to give meaning to the words, shape to the facts.
He knew why his affection for Pirako had flourished so effortlessly. Her flaming red hair, her carefree nature, the lively ring of her voice, the childlike wonder that survived a wasted world. So many of Pirako's qualities reminded Hijikata of Kagura that he felt he had been given no choice but to dote on the girl. Given everything that had happened since their first meeting and what Hijikata expected would soon be their last, he could not conform himself with her fate, nor that of her father. Failing to find a cure for Jirocho's infection was not on the table. However, neither was squandering time away from the kids: Shinpachi, who longed to find his sister and despaired of it every day he spent far from her; and Kagura, whose hand had clung to Hijikata's so desperately, Kagura who would have stayed at the shrine and shared Hijikata and Gintoki's fate so as not to be torn from them.
"I have reason to believe they might be staying at that settlement you mentioned. If the people there are dangerous, there's no time to lose." Hijikata said.
"Then don't waste it on an old thing like me."
"Doromizu-san-"
"Those folks ain't dangerous like the Crow, no. Didn't seem that way to me," Jirocho explained, "They are dangerous in the way communities are. They build their tales and they make the rules. If you want to be subjected to that, be my guest. You've been warned."
Hijikata smiled.
"I won't ask you to join me. Don't think you're fit for the ride anyway."
Jirocho grunted.
"Damn right."
"But if anything happens…"
"Top left corner of the dresser," Jirocho said, eyeing the dresser in front of his cot, "Open it."
Hijikata stood up and opened the drawer as instructed. A flowery scent wafted from an assortment of scrapbooks and small gift cases filled with dainty clutter. On top of it, a folded piece of paper stood out.
"Take it. I have others." Jiorocho said.
Hijikata nodded and, as he closed the drawer, a photo slipped from between the folded paper. It fell to the bottom of Jirocho's cot, over his feet. Hijikata bent over to fetch it, expecting to recognize either Jirocho or Pirako in the picture, but instead he found zero resemblance to either. The people in the photo were a middle-aged couple, man and woman, standing side by side under a blooming sakura tree. The man had a handsome countenance despite the dash of stubble under his chin and a pair of long sideburns out of style. The woman had brown eyes and her hair pinned up in a classic do that brought out the beautiful lines of her face. They made a fetching pair. Tender smiles danced under their eyes and the modest distance between them accentuated an ordinary but graceful height difference.
"Interesting V-shaped bangs, don't you think?"
Gintoki's whistling by Hijikata's ear started him. Hijikata stepped back instinctively and bumped into Gintoki's chest. It took everything he had not to squirm as he felt Gintoki's hand capture his waist. Hijikata jerked free of his clutch and approached Jirocho to hand him the photo.
"No, you can have it," Jirocho waved the photo away, "In case anything happens."
"Who are they?"
While Hijikata waited for an answer that never came, Gintoki turned over the photo in his hand and they both read the names written on the back.
Terada Tatsugorou. Terada Otose. Spring 19–.
"The owners of this house," Jirocho answered, "I don't know what shelter they ran to. But I've yet to stumble upon their corpses. If they are still alive and I don't make it, take Pirako to them. That will bring me peace."
"Nothing will happen to you, old man. Only old age and dementia. Early onset, I'm afraid." Gintoki said.
"Shut up," Hijikata snatched the photo from Gintoki's hand and tucked it away, "Thank you, Doromizu-san. I give you my word."
Jirocho nodded and Hijikata bowed his head. He left the room with a cigarette in hand, respectful of the old man's health. Gintoki, however, could not boast the same. He watched Hijikata go before turning back to Jirocho.
"So, which one of them did you have a crush on? Man or woman?"
"Leave me, demon."
"Oh, c'mon, indulge me." Gintoki insisted, sitting down by the cot.
"I'd first cleave you in half. You should learn something from your friend. He is honorable."
"Yeah, striking resemblance to the guy in the photo, don't you think? Is that why you've welcomed him so warmly? A case of the tinglies? I mean, Hijikata is a good-looking guy, there's no denying it, almost to an unbearable degree-"
"What he sees in your company, on the other hand, baffles me."
"My charming personality. The stylish perm. My overall striking figure. I'm a catch." Gintoki said, leaning on his good arm.
"I liked you more when you talked less."
"The priest didn't like me either."
Jirocho's chuckle brought Gintoki's head up. He didn't figure Jirocho for a man with a sense of humor. Gintoki smiled, then watched as a great sadness tempered the candid look behind Jirocho's eyes.
"Don't try to become one with the dead again. They will turn you into one of them like they did the Crow."
"Do you know what happened to him?" Gintoki wondered.
"No, but I'd wager loss. Irreparable loss."
"Hijikata is dead set on keeping your daughter from that. So don't you dare move from this spot till we come back."
"Is that a threat, corpse eater?"
"Damn right."
