a/n: I was talking to one of my old Gintama fandom pals (she doesn't ship GinTsu, so she won't be reading this lmao), but we were complaining about how Katsura really got the short stick when it came to Gintama's ending. So this chapter is dedicated to her and Zura stans who may or may not be reading this niche story. LMAO

15. father and sons

That night, Katsura was dreaming.

He didn't dream much. If he did, it was usually never good, and the vast majority of his dreams were nightmares of the men who'd die on his behalf because of his plans falling to pieces as they charged through the battlefield with nothing more than sheer bravado and a chipped helmet to protect them from their enemies. The ones that were good mostly involved his grandmother, usually with her back turned to his, tending to a stove while she cooked something for him to eat.

This time, though, he was dreaming of a memory from long ago.

A memory that stirred up some nostalgia. He could see a meadow, with butterflies fluttering around him pleasantly, and wildflowers growing in clusters.

Ah... so this must be Shoyou-sensei's school.

But in this dream, it was burned down now, with nothing to mark of its prior existence save for the ashes and the faint smell of smoke that came from the charred embers of what was left.

Shinsuke and Gintoki - fifteen and sixteen years of age now, growing into their bodies and looking more like the men who fought on the battleground next to him than the boys that he grew up with - had been waiting for him, for some reason. The sight of them, still retaining their good humor, eyes filled with hope for a better future despite the recent tragedy of losing their teacher, was almost enough to make him cry.

"We were looking for you, Zura," Shinsuke drawled, looking bored. "Any leads?"

Katsura shook his head. "It's not Zura, it's Katsura. And I'm afraid not."

"Good news for you, then," Gintoki said, who was grinning. "Takasugi found this," - and he'd stuck the flyer onto Katsura's chest.

Katsura peeled it off and read it. "Join... the Jouishishi?"

"Don't tell me you think it's a bad idea," Gintoki joked, although he seemed a bit nervous.

"I don't," Katsura said slowly, but he'd been frowning. "But why?"

"Takasugi reckons it'll be our best choice to find out where Sensei might be."

"Think of it." Now Shinsuke's eyes sparkled with the anticipation of future adventures to be had. "The reason why Shoyou-sensei's gone is because of the government, right? So we should fight against them. Give 'em hell, and all that."

Now Katsura bit his lip. "I don't know. War isn't a game for children to play - "

"'Course it isn't," Gintoki said, and now his lips thinned, reminding Katsura that he'd already known the battlefield just as intimately as any veteran of the first Jouishishi generation. "That's why we'll agree to stop when we find Sensei. Right, Takasugi?" The other boy nodded in lazy assent, with a grin that insinuated that he didn't think Katsura would agree to this scheme of theirs.

No. Don't join. It'll be all for nothing - Katsura wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come. He knew that one day, Takasugi would no longer smile as easily as he once used to, and Gintoki would stop making jokes in the middle of the day because either they would be comforting yet another soldier on their deathbeds, or be in the middle of a lull where the enemies were on the lookout for the Four Heavenly Kings, reputations that trapped them with further obligations they had never signed up for, having suddenly found themselves symbolic of a losing movement.

He tried again, and opened his mouth with these thoughts in his mind: We won't find him anytime soon, and when we do, he'll die because of us.

But this was only a memory in a dream; unchangeable and unforgiving to those who came from the future. And so, the only words that came out of his mouth was, "Very well then. Let us make a promise then," and the three of them put their hands in the middle of a circle. "First, we'll look for him as best as we can. If he's not here, we shall join the army in order to find Sensei, and once this is over, we shall rebuild Shoka Sonjuku just like the way it used to be."

And then Katsura woke up, finding out that he had neither friends nor master.

(three hours earlier)

Takasugi socked Gintoki in the jaw once he'd woken up. Katsura had screamed and ran to Takasugi, holding him back with two strong arms.

"Let me at him, Zura!" he snarled, muttering dark oaths that were too cruel to be heard. "Let me tear him into pieces, that backstabbing traitor - that mangy mutt - absolute disgrace of a soldier - "

"You can't!"

Gintoki had stood there, his face carefully blank and devoid of any expression. "Zura, I deserve it."

"No you don't!" Katsura yelled. "Both of you, stop it, you're both injured and in no condition to fight at this time - "

"FUCK OFF, ZURA!" Takasugi yelled back, and pushed Katsura out of the way, finding his back on the ground. A millisecond later, Gintoki had let him land another blow to his face, one so powerful that Katsura knew would leave a black and blue bruise the next day.

Katsura looked at the two of them; at Takasugi pummeling his friend mercilessly, at Gintoki taking it without any retaliation, and he quickly scrambled to his legs at the horrible sight of it all. Tears were now freely flowing from his eyes.

"PLEASE!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, in one final plea. "NOT IN FRONT OF SENSEI!"

For once, they had stopped.

And the horrible, horrible truth of what had happened settled into their bones again. Although they averted their eyes from the sight of it, there was no denying the reality that their beloved teacher's head was still resting on a white sheet, the casualty so fresh that the blood was still a bright red.

Gone. Their teacher was... gone.

Wordlessly, the three of them turned to the duty at hand, first closing the eyes of the poor souls who had passed away in the skirmish, and once they had done that, took out their swords to mark their resting place.

When that was done, Gintoki dug a makeshift hole in the ground with his hands. When he was finished, he gently cradled the head and buried it, taking care to pile the dirt in a smooth pile. Afterwards, he unsheathed the sword that Shoyou-sensei had given him, all those years ago, and stuck it into the dirt.

And without further ado or another word to either Katsura and Takasugi, he walked away from the two of them, and Katsura knew he wouldn't come back. For all the things that he wanted to say to Gintoki - that it wasn't his fault, that either of them would have done the exact same in his situation - he couldn't say a single word, because he knew it would have meant absolutely nothing to him. And deep down, all three of them knew it.

-x-

Business had been booming in the red light district ever since the new Shogun had taken over the throne.

And yet, Tsukuyo was unhappy. She couldn't put a finger on why, exactly, but there were bad omens happening around her. The other day, she had dropped a mirror by accident, thinking it'd been something else, and she'd pick up the pieces, one by one, until she pricked her finger. For some reason, she stared at it, letting the blood drip down before Hinowa had asked what she'd been doing.

Trying to figure out the source of her discontent, she started to take on more shifts at work, and listened to the samurai at large while waiting in the shadows, itching for a fight. The rumors were varied; someone said the war would end soon, and then another person said something contrary, that the war would never end if the new Shogun was just as bad as the previous one. She chewed her lip, for she knew not what to believe, and the uncertainty made her more anxious about her future.

For some reason, the war - which had been nothing more than a footnote at best prior to Hosen's downfall - had become a subject that had consumed her.

Several times she had gone to the surface, in search of news - of anything to see if he was dead, to see if he was captured - and she would sometimes go to the gallows, where they had the daily executions of those who had chosen to defy the government, staring impassively at the corpses after the deed was done. The Bakufu was far from shy about their brutality, and she was reminded again of how powerless she was, thinking of how they were all trapped in this horrid system.

It was a strong statement that needed no embellishing. Fight against us, and this is what will happen to you. She suspected that she was closer to finding out the ugly truth about the country than she had any right to be. How ironic, to know that she'd been fighting against an oppressive system for so long, only to find out there was an even crueler world waiting for her beyond the cage of Yoshiwara!

Once, Batou had accompanied her to these daily executions, and at the sight of it, he didn't smile. "This is the first time I've seen a species kill their own kind in such a way."

"What, they don't have a justice system where you're from?"

"No, not that. The way of putting their enemies' heads on a spike... I don't like it. It's cowardly. It's... primal."

"It's a samurai thing," Tsukuyo had said, and although she had appreciated the sentiment, she had been smoking her kiseru then, trying to calm her nerves. Truth be told, doing this kind of thing wasn't good for her health. It made her want to take up arms against the government, even though she was obliged to keep her stance neutral in order to protect Yoshiwara, and the people she cared about.

"If the government wants to reconcile the Amanto and their own insurgents one day, they'll have to come up with a better solution." Batou turned to Tsukuyo. "Look at Yoshiwara. You knew who the enemy was, and overthrew him, but it wasn't as if you punished all Amanto, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying there's other possibilities than the Shogunate ruling over you all. Take for example, the Harusame. We're fairly democratic for a ship full of criminals. If there's any complaints about our leadership, someone can always sign up for a one on one fight with the captain, and if we lose, it's clear that there's a need for a change."

Tsukuyo laughed. "This wouldn't work for us humans. The people who fight the best shouldn't always be in charge." Hosen had been a good example of that.

Batou waved his hand in feigned outrage. "My point is, it seems positively medieval that they are choosing to do things this way."

She mulled over his words while she was serving her next shift. "Medieval, huh... ?" She chuckled.

Well, when he put it that way, who could argue with him? Few seemed to match the Amanto in terms of technology and power. It seemed logical that they would view the rule of the Shogun as backwards, and personally, Tsukuyo had to agree, having met the Shogun once. But she wasn't sure what system was supposed to replace the one currently in use. It wasn't as if the citizens of this era had a choice in the matter, evidenced by the fact that there was a civil war going on right now.

She head rumors that there was another militia gathering in Choshu, the birthplace of the Kiheitai - but so far, it was hard to get news past the civilian front. Each week, the Shogunate would put up WANTED posters around town, and as long as she saw one with Gintoki's name - which usually tended to be the biggest poster - she would breathe a sigh of relief.

Sometimes she'd think about pulling them down, but something - she wasn't sure what - would stop her.

-x-

By now Yoshiwara had set up its own black market, anticipating the end of the war. Profiteers with bags of rice and barley, stolen and imported goods from the Amanto, and luxury products that had been hard to come by due to stopped production, had flooded into the red light district, attracting all types of people from all different socioeconomic backgrounds. This unfortunately had made Yoshiwara perhaps more unsafe than normal, and as such, Hinowa had forbidden Seita from visiting such a place. Still, he was a young boy who still had optimism and youth on his side, and so he fell prey to bouts of curiosity from time to time, choosing to conveniently ignore his mother's orders.

He'd made a friend, to his credit. The Harusame was making a mint off of humanity, and so they continued to stay even after a month, in addition to clearing out more of the trashier folks in town. In fact, they were so content that they fancied themselves makeshift vigilantes, and did such a nice job that Tsukuyo had allowed the Hyakka two days off per week, instead of their customary one day off.

"I'm serious, Kamui! I've definitely seen humans take down a Yato. You guys are strong, but that man is stronger, I tell ya!"

And his fellow nine year old Amanto friend had scoffed, but continued to poke his finger at his rhinoceros beetle, trying to prod it to fight its opponent - a distinctively Japanese sport that Seita had proudly introduced to his alien companion.

"Any idea where I can find him?" the redhead asked. "I bet I'd kick his ass."

"You wouldn't, though," Seita said.

"Totally would!" he protested. "I'm growing, you know. My dad was the strongest in the universe."

"So? What does that actually mean?"

"Well, for one, I took off his arm," Kamui said, grinning, and Seita had shivered then. Not that Kamui had outwardly threatened to kill him, or anything. But Seita had seen what happened to aliens or humans if they irritated the boy, and it wasn't exactly kid-friendly.

"That's not a nice thing to do to your old man."

"Who cares?" Kamui said. "He's a deadbeat dad."

"What does that mean?"

"Means he's a piece of shit," Kamui explained, although he was sulking as he did so. "All he does is go to somewhere else in the universe on a job. He never liked to stay at home."

"Oh." Seita frowned. "But at least you know who your dad is. The only dad I ever knew was my grandpa, and that's not the same thing at all."

"Wish I didn't have a dad," his friend said darkly.

"What about your mom?"

"She's... alright." Without warning, Kamui stood up right then and there, angrily stomping on his beetle. It made a sickening crunch on the paved road.

"HEY! What was that for!" Seita protested, shocked at the violent display.

Tsukuyo, who had been keeping a close eye on the two of them, cleared her throat. "I believe it's time for you to study, Seita," she said firmly. "As for Kamui, Abuto is looking for you. You shouldn't keep him waiting for too long."

Kamui glared at her, but made his way out of the teashop. Seita turned to her, furious.

"That wasn't fair, Tsukuyo-nee! I took so much trouble to catch that beetle for him!"

"I know," she said, patting his head sympathetically. "But ya shouldn't have brought up his mother."

"Why? Everyone has a mom, right? Why can't I ask him about her?"

"Because his mother is really sick," she said softly, kneeling to meet him at eye level. "It's one of those things he might not want to talk about."

He relented. "Okay... fine! But he shouldn't have stepped on my beetle."

"That he shouldn't have," Tsukuyo agreed. "Maybe you two can go to the surface and find some more beetles later?"

"Can't. He's allergic to the sunlight," Seita said, still somewhat grumpy. "That's why I was going to show him how to fight with stag beetles here, rather than up there."

"That's nice of you," Tsukuyo told him, and smiled. In fact, her heart had considerably warmed at the innocent display of human-Amanto friendship. Children always remained the best of humanity, she thought to herself. Not like the filthy profligates that swarmed into Yoshiwara like a horde of flies to honey.

The other day, Kouka had sent her a letter back, with inquiries about Kamui and a flurry of suggestions for the boy, including his favorite foods. He likes shrimp tempura, she had written. In fact, I have a feeling that he'll really like most of the food on Earth, so please make sure you feed him properly.

Thus, Tsukuyo had continued to invite the boy for dinner, Hinowa only too happy to indulge Seita's new friend despite the ridiculous amount of rice that was consumed each time the redhead came over.

Tsukuyo was pretty good at observing other people. It wasn't anything to brag about; her job required her to think two steps ahead of everyone else. If someone looked shady, she could take a glance at them and instantly understand their status, income, and fighting ability, allowing her to take the best course of action in order to keep things peaceful. Having talked to and observing Kamui for a while, she was glad that the boy had finally stopped in a place where there was a chance for him to be a child rather than just a soldier looking out for the next best fight, even if it was such a place like Yoshiwara.

There wasn't much word from Umibouzu, though. If he was out there, she assumed that he must've been involved in something more important, although what sort of duty that might be, she couldn't say. Parenthood was tough, but to have willingly chosen it and then abandoning their children... She couldn't imagine any justifiable reason for it, especially when she lived with Hinowa, who had paid the ultimate price for a chance of motherhood.

-x-

Takasugi had left him alone, shortly after Gintoki did, vowing to destroy the man if he ever saw him again. This time, Katsura couldn't pick up the pieces the way he used to; and so once he was by himself, utterly alone on that cliff, he wept. He wept for the death of his teacher, wept for his comrades who had lost their lives, but most of all, he wept for his friends. The enormous gravity of what had transpired was surely too much to bear, especially for the two of them, and the minute he'd seen Gintoki's blade slicing through their teacher's neck, he knew that things were forever changed.

And once he was done, he stayed near Shoyou's grave, if only to be with him a little longer. Eyes red and bleary, he'd rested a bit before going to a nearby river for a drink of water. The poison from the Naraku had not killed him, but it had left his muscles weak and he had no desire to expose himself to any more unnecessary danger.

Grandmother... what should I do? he asked, while looking at his reflection in the water. All he could see was a tired face peering the depths, with dark under eyes, dirt smudged all over his face, his hair greasy and in complete disarray. He felt like he'd lived a hundred years; too young to be hurt like this, and yet too old to expect anyone else to take the burden off his shoulders.

Shinsuke would vow vengeance and wreak havoc on those who had wronged him.

Gintoki would retreat into nothingness.

So what was his choice, then? Unlike either of them, he was caught in the middle, with neither path appealing to his traditionalist ways. Unlike Gintoki, he couldn't turn a blind eye to the atrocities of the government. And unlike Takasugi, he was sensible enough to understand that endless bloodshed was not sustainable long-term. The samurai couldn't hold out forever - that much was clear. With the fracture of the Four Heavenly Kings - all of them having gone their own way now - the end was nigh.

Katsura sat at the bank for an hour, before making up his mind. Standing resolute, he lifted his foot towards the direction of Choshu, and took another step.

He would continue to fight on, for the sake of those two.

-x-

Gintoki would not allow himself to eat or take a single drink of water for three days. He simply walked and walked, refusing to sleep or take any refuge from the weather until he knew his body could take no more of the abuse. When it happened in the middle of the fourth day, he had barely registered what was happening to him before he found himself lying face down in the middle of a rice paddy, and even then, he did nothing to stop it, hoping that he would drown in the shallow pool of water.

Unfortunately, death did not come to him as easily as him taking it away from others.

He found himself in a farmer's house, only coming to his senses when he woke up. His wartime attire had been laundered and set on a drying rack, and he was dressed in a worn, but clean haori. A bowl of warm rice porridge with a small dish of pickled radish had been placed on a small tray, next to his futon.

At the sight of it, he wanted to leave despite the terrible hunger that gnawed at his stomach. Kindness was simply a notion that was wasted on a demon on him.

Before he could do so, the sliding door had opened. A middle-aged man, dressed in a simple yukata, had already entered the room, thwarting any plans he'd had of escaping without a fuss.

"I see that you're awake."

Gintoki chose not to speak. There was nothing to say.

The stranger had brought him a pitcher of barley tea, choosing to pour it into an earthen cup. "Drink, sir. You must be thirsty."

He did so mechanically, even though it had felt like heaven down his parched throat. When he finished, the man poured him another.

"You must have been very tired," he said. "You've been sleeping for two days."

Gintoki drank his lukewarm tea in silence, hoping the man would eventually tire of his taciturnity. But it was to no avail. The man simply waited for him to speak.

"You'll be arrested if they find out they're harboring a fugitive," he finally said, setting down his cup of tea.

"I don't mind. My son would have been honored to know that the Shiroyasha stayed in our humble home."

At that, Gintoki stared at him impassively. "Your son was a fool."

"Aye, he was," the man agreed. "But in the end, he did what he wanted to do in a blaze of glory. Can a father prevent his son from leaving behind his hopes and dreams?"

The man stood up, and turned away to leave Gintoki with a gentle smile - one that painfully reminded him of Shoyou's, right before he had told him thank you.

"Please eat, Shiroyasha-dono. My late son would have wanted that for you."

-x-

He left the house with a somewhat fuller stomach.

Gintoki continued to walk forwards without a sword, finding that he much preferred to travel without the weight of it resting on his waist. He did not care what would happen to him. In fact, he doubted that he would care for anything at all since the day Shoyou-sensei had died at his hands.

And so, when he saw the men waiting for him at the other side of the village the very next day, he simply gave up.

Nothing mattered anymore, after all.

-x-

When Tsukuyo made her way to the surface that week, there was a crowd of people excitedly talking to each other near the gallows. Frowning, she weaved her way around them all before her eyes looked up on the Shogun's wall.

Scheduled for execution next week, was a big picture of the Shiroyasha, staring back at her as brightly as any headline photo on the front page.

-x-

- tbc -

-x-

a/n: Thank you for continuing to read. :) A big thank to those who consistently review, without you guys there is no weekly update (and this story probably would be put on another three year hiatus if I got no reviews LMAO).