Kabuki-cho in Edo was a haiku, a stink, a collective body of noises, a neon light, a place of memories, a dream. Kabuki-cho was the refuge of the lost, of combustibles sorted neatly into their allotted compartments, of sliding doors and gauzy bars, and old men looking for shelter from the storm.
Its inhabitants were, as a stranger in a dimly lit bar once commented, "whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches," by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peephole he might have said, "Saints and angels and martyrs and holy people," and he would have meant the same thing.*
And yet Gintoki had found his home here a while ago, relishing whole heartedly in the fact that no one would care to seek him there in this particular district. He himself had thought that God - whomever was there in a particularly ironic way - had made him suffer in order to sear into his soul what had been important. What could it profit him to gain normality, in such a place?
The Yorozuyas avoid the trap. They walk around the term "normal", and step over the noose that has constrained so many others in their search for normality, while the rest of society scream at them and call them no-goods, rascals, bums, pay-the-rent-you-morons. Our Father who art in heaven, who has given the gift of survival to these abandoned four - a broken soldier, an abandoned girl, an orphaned boy, and an oversized dog - must have a great and overwhelming love for the no-goods and rascals and the unwanted scraps of civilization. They are the Virtues, the Graces, and the Beauties of the Kabuki-cho district. They create their own orbits, their own constellations, and think nothing more of it as long as there is somebody in need of a helping hand.
Our Father who art in heaven.
-x-
Tsukuyo had not let go of his hand ever since he left Kobayashi's office, and for a moment, in the snowy weather, he had allowed himself to temporarily allow himself to focus only on the heat of it, of her calloused fingers lightly gripping his as she hailed a taxi, taking him back to his apartment.
He hadn't taken his motorbike for various reasons. The doctor had deemed it a volatile activity, especially when under emotional duress.
Still, they had never really done this before. Holding hands publicly wasn't their style - he much preferred the particular distance of saying something particularly filthy, and then justifiably receiving a kunai in the forehead for it.
Yet there they were.
She wouldn't let go of his hand, even inside the car. They said nothing.
There was nothing more to be said.
If she looked at him, he would meet her gaze in full measure, and let her reassure herself that he was fine as she scanned for something - anything to be fixed. When she found nothing, her eyes would only lower, and her head turned away to the window.
I'm okay. I'm not going to break.
But he wouldn't say it to her, fearing that it'd be a false reassurance - for he'd had a history of disguising the truth to the ones he cared about, only to betray it, albeit for good intentions.
He wasn't interested in lying to anyone anymore. Especially her.
Now he only wanted to deal in honesty. Some of it had been painful, some of it had been crippling, but there had been moments where he had realized that being honest with himself had led to moments of joy.
She paid the driver the appropriate fare once it had stopped in front of Otose's Snack Bar, and they stepped out, letting their breaths puff out in the wintery air.
Tsukuyo was still holding his hand.
"The doctor told me I should keep ya company for a while," she said.
"She's probably right," Gintoki replied.
He felt emotionally drained. Her hand had been a welcome distraction from the sadness of reliving through old memories in vivid detail.
She looked stricken at that, but he only gave her a small smile in return as they walked up to the stairs of his apartment, unlocking the door and sliding it open.
Nobody was there.
"Where are the kids?" she asked.
"Freelancing job. I told them I couldn't make it to one of them today."
Her gaze told him that she perfectly understood the intent behind the words, that he had no desire to see either of his children in such a state.
He had planned for it, after all.
He sat down to shuck off his boots, but was stopped by Tsukuyo, who placed a hand on his.
"Let me," she said quietly.
Gintoki allowed her to slip off his boots, and she tugged at them as carefully as a mother would. After they were off his feet, she rose up and headed into a kitchen, presumably to make him a cup of tea - something warm to fortify themselves after the winter chill of the snow. She had yet to remove her pink haori from her shoulders, worried as she was.
He followed her there. Her hand filled the kettle with water, and set it on the stove right before reaching for the cupboard where he kept the tin of loose leaf tea, just for her.
She had such beautiful, quick fingers, he thought to himself. Nimble. Precise.
Deadly, yes, but there was nothing but love in that quiet gesture of care as she shook out an appropriate amount of tea leaves to steep into his second-hand teapot.
For a moment, Gintoki allowed himself the simple pleasure of looking at her.
He had realized, in that particular moment, that he wanted to rely on her. He wondered if there would be a time where he would be able to do such things effortlessly, to care for and be cared for.
"Tell me about your earliest memory," he says, as he leans onto her shoulder, letting himself breathe in her scent.
"Gintoki, I ain't here ta make you sad," she replies, her mouth forming a wry smile, but she doesn't question him. They both know she's been sold, once, into the cage that had once been known as Yoshiwara.
He doesn't let it phase him.
"Fine. Then tell me about those things that I missed for the past two years," he says, and wraps his arms around her waist as the kettle begins to boil. "I want to know everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
-x-
"Bed hair, all good. Nose hair, all good. Unshaven spots, all good. Eye crap, all - "
"Kagura-chan, I'm telling you this isn't going to change anything when you go to that interview," Shinpachi said impatiently. "You're a shoo-in. Sakamoto-san isn't gonna say no to Gintoki's recommendation - "
"I know," Kagura said, pouting slightly, but his words had no effect on the worried expression in her eyes. "And I know Papi wants me to join him too, but I wanna try something new first... "
She sighed and then turned away from the mirror, walking back into the living room from the kitchen.
Gintoki was waiting in the foyer, uncharacteristically ahead of his two children. He watched them put on their shoes, and once Kagura had slipped on her best pair of flats, she looked at him nervously, eyes widened.
"You're not mad at me, are you?"
"No," he said, and patted her head reassuringly.
He wasn't mad. Just... sad, in a sweet way.
The nature of time passing by meant that children were always on loan. They had belonged to him, but only temporarily. It only seemed like yesterday that she had seemed so excited to receive her first girly umbrella and now here they were, preparing for her first job interview...
"You'll be okay," she said, although he knew it was said more for her benefit than his. "Patsuan will be here, and so will Anego, and that mayo freak, and - "
"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, I'll be all right."
-x-
Kagura's going away party is no less as chaotic than the Snack Smile party. The three Sadisteers show up at Otose's bar, Soyo-hime alternating between sobbing and laughing, and a few of her old playground pals even come along for the ride. They insist that they're only there for the cake, and the obligatory heapings of egg-on-rice, but Gintoki knows better. It's Kagura they will miss, with her bright laughs and herculean strength, accompanied by one huge dog. Throughout the day, various members of the cast stop by - some lingering longer than others.
And then there's Soichirou, just sitting in the corner, nursing his own glass of mugi-shochu. He's not sulking so much as one would have assumed, but as composed as a person in calm acceptance of what will happen in the near and far off future.
Gintoki can't help but finally sit across from him. "You should give up on her. Lots of masochists out there. Ever since OnlyPants shut down, there's been a serious lack of business. You could patron one of those poor girls out of a job."
Okita snorts. "We destroyed a football field the other day," he said, and rolled up one of his uniform sleeves, revealing an arm, haphazardly bandaged. "You tell me where I find someone else to keep me in line."
It's a salient point.
With painstaking clarity, Gintoki finally understands that this boy - no, young man - is unmistakably, undoubtedly, in love. Whether the person in question was fully aware of it, Gintoki could already see what was to come, and though he is appropriately concerned, there is something reassuring about it as well. Kagura had chosen to explore the universe, precisely because she knew there would be people left here waiting for her to return - and this person, he knows, must count as one of them.
And so, Gintoki doesn't choose to hurt him - not today, at any rate.
-x-
The months passed by, and they were as desolate as he expected them to be. People kept taking him on excursions, and certainly, it would distract him during the day.
But the nights were more than a bit lonely.
Inside the Shimura dojo, there was an ongoing class with Shinpachi shouting out drills. Gintoki had stopped by, lingering, as he did too often - never joining, but simply to watch.
After a while, though, he sat down on the engawa, preferring to enjoy the day as he usually did: thinking about nothing in particular. Unfortunately, this routine was interrupted by the presence of someone else.
Shimura Tae gracefully sat down next to him, handing him a pint of Bargain Dash. Strawberry flavored. He supposed the offer was bestowed because it marked the third time he'd visited the dojo in the span of a week. It spoke to how well she understood him, even if she was mildly infuriating at the best of times.
He hands over three hundred yen, but surprisingly, she pushes the money away. "It's on me," she says, and takes a seat next to him on the dojo's engawa, cracking open her own pint of caramel fudge.
"What's the special occasion?" Gintoki asks dryly, detaching the attached wooden spoon located underneath the lid. "You're feeling extra generous, aren't you?"
"I have my moments," she says serenely. "After all, Kagura-chan wouldn't want you to mope around like this either, Gin-san."
"I'm not moping," he protests - admittedly a half-hearted defensive at best - but she only rolls her eyes.
"It's Wednesday, Gintoki. You should be out there, getting a real job, or blowing all the money you've saved from not having to feed her on pachinko. And you certainly shouldn't be spending so much time here," Tae says.
He sighs. "What are you, my mother? I can't tell if you're trying to cheer me up or make me even more depressed."
Now Tae laughs cheerfully, and scoops a small portion of ice cream, letting it melt for a bit until she speaks again. "I'll cheer you up by telling you a quick story. A while ago, I made a bet with Sarutobi and Kyuu-chan when you and Tsukki were going to get together."
Gintoki blinks. And then scowls.
"Does everyone know?" he complains. "She probably threatened you three with a kunai when you started teasing her, didn't she?"
"Her denial was very cute at first," Tae says. "Then, you remember that day at the bar? I believe we were recording for the CD Drama release."
"I don't... "
"Right. I think it was before you got into that awful habit of drinking yourself to death. The final movie was a success, we were all gathered there to celebrate, and I said, 'Do you want to know who Gintoki likes'?"
Gintoki scowled. "That was none of anybody's business." How else would Sorachi accomplish fandom peace?
"Anyways, it got Tsukuyo all flustered, and that's when I knew she wanted to know the answer - because I'd never seen her blush as much as she did, even when you've cajoled her into drinking far more than she should."
"Why do you think I would care about this? Seriously. I don't care. Only absolute weirdos would give a damn about this piece of unnecessary merchandise."
Tae ignored him. "Afterwards, Sarutobi was angry at me for pulling a stunt like that, but later that evening the three of us got together - Tsukuyo had work that night, of course - and we all finally admitted that it would be far better for her to deal with your terrible habits than us three. Not that I was interested, for the record - "
"Didn't think you ever were," Gintoki muttered under his breath.
" - but I said, and I quote - a year, since you two were self-sacrificing idiots who couldn't accept what was obvious to even your ninja stalker of yours - who by the way, sends word that her honeymoon was far superior than whatever you could ever give Tsukuyo - "
"Tell her to shut up, we don't care about things like that! I already feel sorry for that henpecked husband of hers, who as far as I'm concerned, essentially signed up for a lifetime of emotional cuckoldry! In any case, forget the honeymoon. I have a hard time convincing my woman to play even a few hours of daytime hooky with me!"
Tae continued, as if he hadn't interrupted her. "Anyways, I won the bet, as I knew I would knowing what a lazy bastard you were, and the other girls had to pony up their hard-earned cash. And so, that's why I've bought you some ice cream. Aren't you deliriously happy for me?"
Gintoki glared at his container of strawberry Bargain Dash, already half melted from the springtime sunshine. His appetite for it had considerably diminished. "I seriously was under the impression that the women in this show had far better things to do than to speculate about the main character's love life."
"Not when said friend - and to be completely frank with you, the kindest of us - was so obviously in love with the worst person in Kabuki-chou," Tae said primly. "Now now, Gin-san, don't look so upset because we all knew this day was going to happen. It was just a matter of tweaking the circumstances - "
"Is everyone in this universe set on damning me to hell?"
There was a pause, before the brunette placed her hand on his, chilly from the ice cream. "Actually, no. To be honest, I'm glad you came today. I thought you'd be glad to know that I've completely paid off the debt for this dojo. It's officially cleared, and legally bound in my name so that no one can take it away from us, ever again."
He finally met her gaze; her mouth was curved, serene without a trace of anger. It was not often that Shimura Tae smiled at him without ill intent.
Gintoki couldn't help but to smile back. "Congratulations."
He had known that Kyuubei had wanted to sort out the messy paperwork and financial entanglements a while back, but Otae had been adamant on doing things her own way. She had learned the consequences of being indebted to others. He supposed that had been why she'd been such an uncute woman a long time ago; but at the same time, it had made her an admirable one too, in her own, brutish way.
"Thank you," she replied. In between the lines, he knew what she was trying to say.
It couldn't have happened without you.
There had always been a sense of ease between them, a kindred understanding of where they had stood as they orbited around each others' lives. Certainly, there were things that he could have done better when Kagura and Shinpachi had lived under his roof. But the woman sitting next to him had smoothed over the gaps, meeting needs that he couldn't fill by himself and for that, he'd been just as equally grateful for her place in their makeshift family.
"What's next for you, then?" he asked, once she had let go of his hand. "I can't see you as someone who wants to take over the dojo forever."
"I don't know," she admitted. "I suppose I'll have to figure it out, just like Shinpachi or Kagura did, won't I?"
He smiled at that. "I guess so."
She stood up from the engawa, brushing off a piece of lint from her kimono as she did so. "It'll be my turn to teach the next class. I'll have to start preparing for it, but you're welcome to stay here as long as you please, unlike that gorilla stalker of mine."
Shinpachi came outside of the dojo not too much later, but unlike his sister, there was a slight sheen of sweat on the back of his neck, tanned from being outside so often in the midst of dojo renovations.
He had grown up handsome, Gintoki thought ruefully to himself. He'd have to personally vet out all of his future girlfriends - really, Patsuan was too soft to protect himself against people - maybe he'd fall prey to another suspiciously cute girl with cat ears...
"Gin-san, what are you doing here?"
"Oh, you know. The usual. Nothing at all."
"Eh, really? I know that's typical for you, but you really ought to find a hobby soon... Otherwise before you know it, your life will pass by and you'll wonder how you graduated to being such a useless old man - "
"Stop lecturing me! My only ambition here is to spend my entire life in retirement! That, and to live long enough to read the final chapter of One Park!"
Shinpachi laughed - a booming one, almost reminiscent of Hajime-nii's - and just like that, Gintoki's scowl was wiped away.
"Gin-san wouldn't be Gin-san if he wasn't such a lazy ass," he admitted, and took his seat next to Gintoki. "Did Aneue tell you the good news? The dojo is under her name now! It's totally official."
"Yeah, she did. Congrats."
"I know we spent basically the entire series trying to save the world and protecting Edo, but... I just think there's something really nice about finally accomplishing the thing we wanted to do since the first chapter. When you left, I sort of forgot how much me and my sister used to struggle, but... "
Shinpachi sighed. "Once you came back, I started to get in touch with that person. And you know. I got more motivated to work towards my goals, because I wanted to set a good example for myself, to show you that those two years weren't for nothing."
A lump formed in his throat.
"So I'll say it again, as your younger brother, over and over again. Thank you, Gin-san. Thank you for knocking down those Chatoran assholes the day I met you. You really saved my soul that day."
Gintoki could have sworn someone was cutting onions nearby. What the hell was middle age doing to him?
"Who taught you to curse like that?" Gintoki grumbled, but wiped his sleeve over his eyes. "You oughtta be ashamed of yourself... What would your beloved sister say, you terrible siscon?"
Shinpachi only laughed. And eventually, Gintoki started to laugh, too, until Tae came out, wondering what the ruckus was about.
-x-
A pine tree bonsai rested on the grave of his old friend, and Gintoki was in the middle of pruning the tiny branches as he heard a pair of footsteps approach his way.
The hairs stood at the back of his neck.
He would have known those steps from a million miles away. Had engraved them on his soul. Had memorized them so intimately that it as familiar as the back of his hand.
He dropped his pruning shears, and cursed.
"Gintoki."
There it was. That low voice, that delicate face that belied a lifetime of tragedy. Those green eyes that had haunted him for more than ten years. Twenty, if you counted the day he joined the dojo as a rebel without a cause.
Gintoki turned around, and punched Takasugi Shinsuke in the face.
"You fucking bastard. You asshole. You piece of shit. You know I go to a damn doctor because of you?" Gintoki shouted, picking up Takasugi by the collar of his haori. Graveyard or no graveyard, the time had long passed for decorum. "I take a pill! Every single fucking day. I take them because I have panic attacks. Imagine me of all people, having fucking panic attacks! You invade my fucking dreams! And I get them because I had to kill you when that monster took over your body, and you - you... "
You had the audacity to come back to life, making the rest of us suffer in the process.
It's no good. As quickly as his rage comes, it passes.
Because Takasugi - as much as Gintoki wants to hate him, to resent him for witnessing the worst thing he's ever done in his life - has tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Gintoki."
Fuck, now he's crying too.
Everything hurts. The visceral image is too real, too sudden. It's as if Gintoki has never laid a finger on him, has never caused anything to lead to Takasugi's eye being shut permanently.
It's a dream that he's never allowed himself to believe in.
He lets go of him.
"Why did you come back?" Gintoki finally asks, and doesn't hesitate to wipe his face with his sleeve. It doesn't faze his friend.
In fact, Takasugi looks as if he... understands.
"The memories came back," Takasugi says. "I'm not sure how it all worked. I knew you didn't want to see me when I was in the process of getting them back, but I came back for a reason."
"Why?
"Because of you," he admits.
Gintoki doesn't know whether he wants to punch him again or to hug him. Both, probably.
He's always been ambivalent about Takasugi.
"They gave me a choice," he said, and now his voice was starting to drift away. "I was waiting to cross the river of death. Then the death god asked me if I wanted to go back to Earth, because apparently if you have Altana in your blood, you have a choice."
"Death gods don't exist," Gintoki says.
Takasugi smirks. "So explain why I'm standing in front of you."
"I'm hallucinating."
"I doubt it," Takasugi says lightly. "You still owe me the copy of Portopia I lent you."
"Fuck you, asshole. Are you going to go evil on the world again, destroying the whole place because of that video game? If so, ask someone else to do it. Gin-san is finished. All he wants to do is to make his girlfriend cum and to drink all the strawberry milk from the convenience store."
"You have a fucking girlfriend? And she actually sleeps with you?" Takasugi is simultaneously incredulous and disgusted at the same time. "I suppose even some women can be brain-damaged. The world is in seriously worse shape than I thought."
That's a line that no Altana being could have said, Gintoki thinks.
And then they're both crying and laughing at the same time, because as ugly as life is, this is a beautiful moment. And Gintoki takes a step towards his childhood friend, and gives him the tightest hug, because the world has realigned, making itself right again.
I have you, and you have me.
They had never given themselves permission to be like this before the war.
Vulnerable.
Happy.
Relieved.
When they finally let go of each other, Gintoki's eyes were still wet. He wipes them away with the sleeve of his haori.
"I saw Sensei on the other side of the bridge." Takasugi says, and his voice is soft - the way it used to be, back when they were still twelve and full of daydreams. "I thought about taking a step. Oboro was already there, you know. He didn't want to come back to this shithole where he was forced to keep on killing people he didn't want to. He thought hell was a better place to be than here."
Gintoki places a hand on his shoulder.
"Let's get a drink first," he says, and Takasugi agrees.
-x-
He's not used to Takasugi with both of his eyes open, so when they arrive at a local izakaya, sitting a table away from the other customers, Gintoki still feels unsettled by how surrealistic this all feels.
And at the same time, it feels... right.
As if this was what was supposed to happen in the first place.
"Do you still smoke?" Gintoki asks, and his fingers fidget - but he'd be damned if he let Takasugi see.
"No. It was a terribly filthy habit," his friend admits. "I suppose this is what a fresh start was... so I decided not to begin in the first place." He shrugs.
Gintoki notes that his smile isn't sardonic, as it so often was even back when they were still young boys, not yet used to the hardship of war.
It's weird. And nice.
When the server comes to place a bottle of warm sake at their table, Gintoki lifts the container, very carefully, and says in a quiet voice, "So tell me everything that happened after... after you died."
The alcohol flows easily, a steady stream from the container right into the porcelain cup. Takasugi looks at it solemnly. When Gintoki finishes pouring his own serving, he takes his own and stares into the depths, as if he was contemplating the meaning of life, waiting patiently for his friend's explanation.
"Sensei used to be a god," Takasugi starts, and then furrows his eyebrow in deep contemplation - the way that he once used to in the middle of writing poems in the middle of wartime, or when he had the space to play his shamisen.
-x-
After he had died, buried underneath the Edo Terminal and all the rubble, he had turned into a ghost. Not too long after that, Sensei had joined him in the same space of nothingness, a void that was entirely disconnected to the realm of the living.
The two of them - master and student - had talked for a long time. They had gone through what had happened on the battlefield in search of him after the school had burned, and they had spoken of old times and new. Takasugi - who had been denied the chance to see Shoyou for so long - had been unflinchingly, brutally honest with his teacher. As they continued their discussion, Takasugi had become more truthful than he'd ever been with himself, or Gintoki, or Katsura, or any of the men that had served with him under the formation of the Kiheitai.
"He was disappointed in me, and the choices that I made after... that happened," Takasugi said, with a frankness that surprised Gintoki. "And I suppose that made me want to do better."
The Altana that he had imbibed had carried over to the afterlife. It had made him special, to say the least.
"Once upon a time, Sensei was sent here to help mankind. The gods made him half human, half immortal, so that he would be able to connect more deeply with humanity. But when us humans discovered that he could never die, they became afraid. And... well... " Takasugi smiled wryly. "We know how the story of that went. Eventually, the human part of him corrupted his soul to a point where he wasn't able to control his actions anymore."
Gintoki nodded.
"He said that he had suffered more than I ever had, and so that gave me no right to go to the afterlife, after what I'd done," Takasugi said. He finally took a sip of his drink. "So in a nutshell, I was sent back here."
"Sounds like bullshit," Gintoki commented. "You're the one who's most undeserving to come back to the land of the living. I could name ten people who deserved a second chance ahead of you."
"Which was why I first came back reincarnated as a goddamn butterfly," Takasugi snapped back, and knocked back the rest of his drink. "The difference between me and them was that I happened to steal the blood of a god."
Gintoki only snickered, but poured him another drink. "Served you right. In another universe, we'd be worshipping you for coming back alive from the dead, but here, you're just Chibisuke."
His friend only rolled his eyes, and continued his story.
He had gone through countless cycles of reincarnation to repent for his sins. Each time had been more agonizing, especially as he had retained his human memory. It was only in his last form that he had woken up with no memory of his first life.
"I was helpless," he said. "And weak. And every time, I had to relive through every life I took away. I had to experience the pain of dying over and over again, unable to do anything about it."
It was only through perhaps the three hundredth reincarnation that Takasugi had finally been allowed to take a human form.
Gintoki frowned. "The timeline doesn't make sense. Even if you were born and died in the same day - "
"It wasn't strictly chronological. Time isn't a dimension that will limit immortality - gods don't play by the rules like humans do; anything goes. They had decided that this was my punishment."
"So you had to work for your redemption."
"Every bit of it. I didn't choose it, for the record. Sensei decided it for me. But because he died in peace, I suppose I accepted it."
"Let me guess. You're not an emo edgelord anymore."
"I'm human," Takasugi said simply. "This is essentially my last life - if I die in this form, it's game over. Although I'll be able to talk to Sensei again if that happens."
Gintoki sips his sake with some delicacy. "I suppose at this point, I should say to you that you shouldn't die, Takasugi."
"I wouldn't; not when I worked so hard to exist here," he replied. "I realized it wasn't death that I was looking for," he admitted.
"Then what was it?"
Takasugi poured Gintoki a drink now. "I wanted Sensei to forgive me," he said, and something in Gintoki's heart grew sad. "If I had realized that earlier - " His voice almost cracked, and he paused, swallowing to regain control. " - I suppose I could have accepted things as they were. I could have walked beside you - and figured out what the next thing to do after that terrible war ended."
Gintoki meets his gaze. "Better late than never," he said.
"Yes," Takasugi agreed.
They continued to drink in silence, more comfortable now with the spaces in between conversations. Wordlessly, Gintoki poured Takasugi another drink, and when he had finished his own, it was his friend's turn to pour the sake into Gintoki's cup.
"Are you still playing house, Gintoki?" Takasugi finally asked, once they had ordered another round of appetizers. Neither of them had wanted to end up too drunk, although the two of them were in a good mood, nevertheless.
"One kid's left the nest to kill space aliens, and the other one finally isn't checking up on me as much now that I have another grown up pecking at me," Gintoki replied. "I suppose this is what parents feel when their good-for-nothing freeloading son finally gets tired of being a burden and finally gets a job or goes to university."
"In this case, I bet you were the NEET, Gintoki - "
"Shut it. I have been nothing but a good provider for those two brats. The fact that they're able to financially support themselves now is only one less burden I have to carry."
Takasugi only snickered, unconvinced. "You've never been good at being honest, and if I had to guess, you still miss playing house."
"Wouldn't mind doing it all over again," Gintoki admitted, and at this, gave his old companion a wry smile. "Might even have another chance to, if I play my cards right..."
Takasugi shook his head somberly. "Already on your way to ruining more future lives? I'll have to check up on those brats in a few years."
Gintoki snorted in response. "And you? What are your future prospects, mister ex-terrorist?"
"Nothing grand. I have no plans to do anything concrete," Takasugi said. "I told Matako to find some other guy, because all I wanted to do for now was to wander in the countryside while writing my shitty poems. You remember during the war, I used to carry Shoyou's notebook... ?"
"And a stick of charcoal," Gintoki said. "You'd never read them to us. We had a running bet that it would be full of love poems or some sentimental bullshit like that."
"Well, you weren't completely wrong," his friend answered, and this time, the corner of his lip turned upwards. "I thought I might get a head start on that volume of poetry that I've been meaning to write after the war."
Now Gintoki couldn't help but to laugh. "You sanctimonious prick. You've never grown out of being an emo edgelord."
"I'm not a country bumpkin like you," Takasugi retorted, but smiled all the same.
"Speaking of which, I suppose you've already seen Zura, and Sakamoto, haven't you... "
His friend nodded. "I told them to not say anything. They knew you would have suffered in the interim. Do you still have a drinking problem?"
"Sometimes," Gintoki said. "But it's a lot better than it used to be."
His doctor was starting to wean him off from the one-to-one sessions that he'd started with, and had gradually introduced him to group therapy, where the only participants allowed had been other former, inactive Joui patriots - those who were, like him, trying their best to assimilate back into society.
For people like him, the war had never really ended. He'd been quietly surprised - and moved - by just the mere knowledge that there were others out there; others who'd felt just as guilty for the carnage, guilty for the lives they never quite managed to save, and the lingering touch of resentment with how quickly the world had seemed to move on without them.
He had once wondered why he had never purposely sought out such mundane, unassuming people in the past, when it'd been so clear that he needed someone to listen to him. To genuinely understand him. He supposed it had been a fear of triggering memories he had no desire to awaken.
Gradually, those strangers had become a part of his routine. Of course, he would see Tsukuyo on her days off. Do a few jobs, here and there. Write letters to Kagura. Visit the Shimura dojo to give a class on occasion. But from time to time, he'd find the opportunity to talk about the war to these lost souls. It would help, especially when things got too hard and his mind was crowded with unpleasant thoughts, itching for the mind-numbing comfort of alcohol. After a while, he found that the little stone lodged in the small of his back since Kagura's departure had disappeared, as if his loneliness had once manifested as a physical component.
For a moment, his childhood friend studied him, and then nodded in approval. "That's good. I really am glad to hear that."
Gintoki gave him a wry grin in return. "Thanks."
Then, Takasugi put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. I was talking to Zura the other day and... "
-x-
The funeral had strangely not been as small as Gintoki expected.
"I hunted down the other Sonjuku classmates," Katsura had told him over another basket of peaches, sent by the Prime Minister once she'd approved the expenses allotted for his personal project these days: rehabilitation of the Jouishishi. "Do you remember that day when Sensei hired a photographer for the school's first anniversary? Apparently, I saved a copy for myself - had tucked it in my green notebook, forgotten all those years..."
"Right." Gintoki hadn't bothered to smile back then, not capable of appreciating the value of such occasions at that particular age. "I thought they all died after the Kansai Purge."
"Not all of them," Katsura admitted wryly. "They were smart enough to keep their heads down. None of them stayed in Hagi in the long run."
The room had enough people to fill a classroom; and it had been considerably less formal than most funerals he'd been to in the last five years. There was a picture of their beloved teacher, adorned in chrysanthemum flowers, but there wasn't a monk, or a dress code that required them to put on robes that would have been out of Gintoki's budget.
Instead it had been more intimate. One of the girls had become a bestselling novelist, and had started chatting to Takasugi in a far off corner, who surprisingly was receptive to her suggestions of literature. In the corner of his eye, he even spotted Nobume offering one of her Pon-de-Rings to a child - someone had bought their family in tow.
It wasn't stuffy. Gradually the casual chit-chat would shift into a circle where one would share a short anecdote about Shoyou, and then people would nod in agreement, or add another spin to the tale.
"He'd be the first steal those rice balls from Zura, wouldn't he - "
"'Course he would. Zura always picked the best furikake from the village market, and save it for Sensei - "
"It's not Zura, it's Katsura!"
If it was too sentimental, no one complained. Sometimes they cried, and sometimes they laughed. And the other times, it was just peaceful, to listen to others talk about happier times, of more innocent days. It was a funeral where no one had questioned the cause of his official death, because they'd all lost more than a few classmates during the war, and before even that, the Kansai Purge.
And it was through those six hours of listening, of hearing from these familiar strangers in the past that Gintoki chose to believe, finally, that their teacher was in a better place - that he wouldn't be forgotten, or that he wouldn't be remembered as a monster.
They were all equals here. Once the quiet gathering had ended, Gintoki - and by proxy, his two other childhood friends - had already exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and his world had grown from the far distant past, stretching now into his present for what it would eventually become.
-x-
The maple leaves were in full bloom as he made his way to her side one late afternoon. She was smoking, as was her habit.
The two of them were finishing up their bowls of sea bream, served with young bamboo on top of rice, a specialty made from the bounty of the spring season. He enjoyed the dish, and more importantly, he liked that he wasn't paying for it. It reminded him of an older time - perhaps not necessarily a happier time, but regardless, it had made him feel very warm inside.
"I have something to show you," she said.
"What is it? It's not a job, is it?" he asked. They weren't in her kitchen, so it couldn't have possibly be one of her kunai-shaped onigiri. That would have been a rather unpleasant surprise for either party.
Tsukuyo smiled, and shook her head. "Nah, it's nothin' like that."
"Then what is it?"
"It's a surprise," she said cheerfully, and took out her wallet to pay the bill. When they exited the stall, the cool air crisp like an apple, he realized that they were halfway between their respective homes, roughly an hour away from the Kabuki-chou district by foot.
The suburb wasn't as garish as the neighborhoods that they were accustomed to, the lack of love hotels and neon lights marking a noticeable difference.
He followed her, pestering with questions. Was it a courtesan who'd let him drink wakame sake? She threw a kunai at his forehead for that one. He took it out, used to their song and dance.
Was it a new motorbike? This one earned him a kinder smile, but a firm shake of her head.
Was it a Ketsuno Ana figurine? Again, that shake of her head, her eyebrows furrowed in mild irritation.
Over and over, he'd guess and guess, but all of them were resounding "no"s until she finally stopped in front of a house that seemed, for all intents, nothing particularly special except that it seemed to be newly built.
Tsukuyo took out a key from her pocket, and unlocked the door.
"What's this place, huh? Looks kinda nice and homey. Ain't like those love hotels we usually get - "
"Sheddep! Stop makin' it out as if we're a sleazy couple, like that's all we do!"
He grinned. "You like those sleazy things, though - " and this time, he dodged her incoming kunai. She scowled.
Like any dutiful simp in training, he quickly changed tactics, to avert himself from stoking her anger. "Anyways, why are we here, Tsukki?"
"Thought I wanted a change o' pace, I guess." She slipped down and took off her boots, and he did the same before she straightened up and said, "I'll take ya on a tour. Been here for a while, actually..."
She maneuvered around the house as if she owned it, showing him the kitchen, commenting on how comfortable the living room was. He followed her, and it was strange, really, how familiar she seemed around this unfamiliar place...
And then something in his head clicked.
Resting on the stovetop was the same brand of tea kettle he'd recommended her when she said she'd been looking for a new one. And near the television, there was a copy of My Neighbor Pedoro 2, resting on top of the VCR. Her small collection of hair pins that he'd given her were neatly placed on the vanity in the bedroom. When he saw the bookshelves lining against the walls, he swallowed. The perfect place to store volumes and volumes of Jump.
This wasn't a short term rental, by any means. She'd been hunting down things so that he'd feel at home here.
He realized that this house was for the two of them.
The slow, thudding realization beat through his veins, causing him to tune out most of what she said until he blinked, forcing himself to pay attention to her voice.
" - and like I said, the air conditioner works fine, as long as ya don't leave it on all night - "
Gintoki scooped her in his arms and crashed his mouth into hers, cutting off her explanation. When they finally broke apart, he growled into her ear, "Where's the futon, you silly woman - "
She bit back a moan, slightly pink and breathless from their exertion. Her hand gestured vaguely in the north direction, and it took him all of ten seconds before she was really falling into a mattress, her sash already half undone and golden hair splayed onto a pillow as his hands busied himself into ridding every possible piece of clothing in his way.
Before long, she was ready for him, and raked his nails across his back as he sank into her.
"Why are you so - " he groaned as he moved against her; hardly knowing where he ended and where she began. She only laughed in response, knowing that he'd put the puzzle pieces together. "You stupid, beautiful woman - "
How many times could one ever say thank you, and mean it? He could make love to her a thousand times, and it would never mean enough.
It would never fully capture the exactitude what she meant to him.
She gasped for breath as he poured himself into her, feeling as if he could never kiss her enough. He wanted to lose himself as he looked into her beautiful eyes, right before he made her come apart under his arms. Wanted to lose himself after she made him fall to pieces, in between her chest, and hands, and the beating of her heart.
Afterwards, they laid there, limbs entertwined as they panted. He finally rolled over, the sweat cooling from his body.
"Why here?"
"I wanted a place just for us - away from the noise. A place where we could just be - you know. Normal. You don't have to move in, I just... thought it'd be nice to have this place. For us."
He smiled at that.
He had longed for such things, too - a space where he wasn't the Shiroyasha, scion of the battlefield - white hair unmistakably his that could be spotted from kilometers away. And she, too, as selfless and divine as she was - surely must have wanted a respite, too, from being the guardian of a whole city.
It stood to reason that they were here now, just two regular people who enjoyed each other's company.
Still, the sentiment doesn't ring half as true as her sincerity. He kissed her forehead, and said in a low voice, "Ain't no way in hell anyone would consider my shaggy perm normal, and no way would any self-respecting bartender call you normal after you've had more than a few."
She was too tired to do anything but chuckle.
-x-
After they had rested, she had insisted on showing him the rooftop. The afternoon sun cast an illuminating glow on their faces, and though the wind was getting warmer by the minute, there was a faint chill in the air. She had worn her pink haori for the reason, and out of whimsy, chose to wear the crescent moon pin that he had given her a while ago.
She looked beautiful like this. Relaxed. Though he knew she would go back to Yoshiwara soon, presumably on patrol once more, he wanted to live in that moment forever. To capture that moment, where her smile shone brighter than any moon.
"Look over here," Gintoki said, and she gave him an amused smile. "What for, Gintoki?"
"Wanna make this last forever," he said. Though she didn't quite understand him, she tilted her head towards him with some trepidation. "Hope you're not smoking your DJ Kaoris - this piece of junk won't be able to handle those fumes."
Kagura had dragged him into the modern century, and he'd gotten into the habit of snapping a few pictures here and there to send to his daughter. It'd taken him a few months to get the hang of it, and by the tenth time Gengai had fixed his cheap secondhand mobile, he finally managed to even build up a gallery of photos every time he saw Tsukuyo smile. This smile had been a soft one, nothing particularly flashy or exceptional. But it was one bestowed in his direction, and he knew he would treasure it, like the first time he'd seen it amidst a cloud of pink fumes.
"There," he said, snapping his cell phone shut. "All done now."
Her smile grew a fraction brighter at that.
The cherry blossoms were beginning to float in the air. They remained there for a while, sitting across from each other, and knew things would be all right from here on out.
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the end
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