Notes: This work contains spoilers for the Be Forever Yorozuya movie. Be sure to watch it before reading or proceed at your own risk.

When Silver Turned White

Chapter 2: GHOST

A thin mantle of rain fell over Edo, droplets soft as a lover's caress. Hijikata walked outside well protected. Long overcoat and boots. Scarf wound tight around his neck and tucked perfectly into place. In front of him the soft spray of rain settled over a cold slab of stone. Its surface sleek despite the scarce sunlight that broke through heavy clouds.

"You're at the wrong grave."

Hijikata had not expected company. It wasn't often he met anyone at that place, not when the cemetery housed more dead than visitors.

Sougo's voice had not aged a year, much less five. He delivered his words with a zeal Hijikata oftentimes feared he had lost himself. Perhaps it were the undying feelings of love and hatred that bound them together. Fondness fostered by absence. Whatever it was Hijikata welcomed it. A remnant of times past.

"I wondered if it was you leaving the flowers. You must come here pretty often."

"So do you."

"She was my sister," Sougo replied sharply, "What's your excuse?"

Hijikata had no reply. Not one that paid Mitsuba's memory any respect. He came here because he was weak. Every other week he came, if work let him, like a ritual, a prayer. He didn't talk or address her. But he did try to think of her. To give himself peace. But Sougo saw right through him.

"It's easier isn't it?" Sougo said, "I knew you would get more stupid with age, but not this bashful. It's kinda gross."

He stopped beside Hijikata, shoulder to shoulder. He had grown taller. The high ponytail reminded Hijikata of his distant youth. A time long ago when fighting was all he had on his mind, and, for a while, Mitsuba.

"You haven't gone to his grave yet, have you?"

"Why would I mourn someone who is not dead?"

"It's been five years, Hijikata-san. Nobody disappears for that long without a word. Not with the White Plague around. Didn't you waste enough government hours and resources making sure of it?"

Hijikata grunted and turned his back on Mitsuba's grave.

"Still, if there's anyone who could come back from the dead it's the Yorozuya's Boss."

"Is that supposed to cheer me up?" Hijikata wondered, searching for his cigarettes.

"Well, you'd have to consider what's worse," Sougo started. He bowed shortly towards the grave of his sister, sent her a few words of goodbye and then followed Hijikata out of the cemetery, "There are two possible scenarios. One, the Boss is for-real dead and you have refused to visit his grave for the past five years, or scenario two, he has been alive for the past five years without telling anybody about it. Without you knowing about it."

Hijikata failed to light his cigarette in the rainy weather. He flicked his lighter over and over again, hands repeating a gesture he had done a million times. Sougo's scenarios were both horrible. Both situations Hijikata had considered before. Both reasons why Hijikata came to visit Mitsuba's grave. Her he could grieve. With Mitsuba there was the sense of an ending. He was at peace with his feelings for her and the fact she was no longer there. But not with Gintoki. Not when Hijikata could still remember the feel of their bodies intertwined, the tone of his voice, the taste of his lips, the sweetness, the way he always managed to get on his nerves and step all over him, the way he had become so present in his life.

Grieving him was inconceivable and thinking about his disappearance sent Hijikata through familiar pathways of guilt and anger Sougo had effortlessly conjured with two simple scenarios. How could Gintoki disappear without a trace? Leave nothing behind but the semblance of death? No warning, no cry for help. The selfish prick. Hijikata held on to his anger to cast aside the darker thoughts haunting him, the ones that told him he didn't matter, that he hadn't meant much. The kind of self-sabotaging thoughts which were, nevertheless, better than accepting the truth.

But that Hijikata could not do. He'd rather believe Gintoki was still alive somewhere, in a place tangible enough that Hijikata would be able to find him and beat his ass. Hope was the last to die, they said. Yet, even hope had its enemies and the more Hijikata clung to it the more he was blind to reason, ready to follow every little clue he came upon, every whisper, every rumor that told of a glimpse of a white yukata with a blue wavy pattern.

That day by the cemetery he saw it again. Hem fluttering after steady steps across the street. Hijikata's heart filled to burst at the sight. A natural reflex. Except Gintoki didn't wear his yukata with a big yellow sash. Except it wasn't Gintoki at all.

Hijikata leaned against the roof of the police car as his feelings took over. Rain drenched the sleeves of his long coat. Beside him Sougo shrugged.

"See ya' around, Hijikata-san."

Sougo put on his wide brimmed hat and walked in Kagura's opposite direction. Her umbrella shielded her features but from her posture alone Hijikata could tell how much Gintoki's disappearance had changed her. No trace of the short whimsical little kid she had once been. Just a shadow of her former keeper.

Hijikata got in the car and drove home to the barracks.

The old Shinsengumi barracks had not withstood the civil unrest and gang war that the White Plague had bred on the streets of Edo. Nor had their name after Kondo's arrest five years prior. A ramshackle inn now hosted what was left of the Shinsengumi - the Makotogumi. Their numbers had dwindled considerably and each passing week Hijikata wrote a new entry into his Vice Commander log about a new afflicted, a new casualty, a new defector.

Yamazaki greeted him by the front door, hands clutching a report he was hasty to deliver.

"Welcome back, Vice-Commander. I heard the car coming in," he tucked his report under his arm to grab Hijikata's coat, "I finally have that report you requested on the Eastside Mohawk gang."

"Leave it on my table. First I want you to round up a squad and send them to the Kabuki District."

"Sir?"

"She is back."

"Kagura-chan?"

"Yes. We don't need her and Glasses destroying more public property over a petty disagreement. We already live amidst enough rubble." Hijikata replied gruff.

"I wouldn't call it a petty disagreement, Hijikata-san. You know it's not that-"

"I've given you my orders."

Hijikata turned around and slid shut the door to his quarters.

It wasn't until a few hours later, after much convincing and begging and pleas to the men's better natures, that Yamazaki convinced them to give up their downtime and go to work. The mention of their Vice Commander's avenging wrath if they chose not to follow his orders spared Yamazaki a good thirty minutes and he was knocking back at Hijikata's door in no time.

"May I come in, sir?"

"Yes."

Hijikata was sitting at his desk reviewing reports. Cigarette burning away on the astray. Yamazaki pulled up a cushion and sat a few feet behind Hijikata, eyes roaming the vest hugging his back.

"I've dispatched the men, sir."

"Good. What about the Mohawk gang?"

"Bad news."

"What now?" Hijikata put down his pen and turned around to show Yamazaki a frown.

"Our informant. He switched sides. He gave us one last tip about the gang's stash house but when we got there the place was empty. Two of our men were ambushed by the gate. The others managed to get to them in time but they were hurt. Fortunately Elizabeth-dono's people were nearby when it happened and they took them in. We received a note earlier today saying our men were recovering well."

"And no sign of the stash? Nothing?"

"I'm afraid the trail has gone cold, sir."

"A lot of people depend on that medicine." Hijikata sighed. Five years had passed without a cure for the White Plague and, in spite of the tireless efforts of the few doctors and scientists that remained on the planet, all the common folk could cling to was managing the pain, delaying the inevitable. With factories shut down, civilization reduced to its bare essentials - mostly greed, survival and fear - drugs had become more valuable than money itself.

"Is that why our informant switched sides? Because he thought he could get it from them? How foolish."

"If the rumor is true and the Mohawks are getting the medicine directly from a government source it is to be expected."

Hijikata scoffed.

"They have truly made us look like criminals."

"By the way, Hijikata-san," Yamazaki's tone went soft as he changed subjects, Hijikata recognized it instantly and braced for the worst, "They moved up the date of the execution. It's next week."

Hijikata tightened the grip on his cigarette. He did not notice it breaking in half.

"They moved it up three weeks?"

"Yes."

"We need to send word to Elizabeth-dono as soon as possible." Hijikata said.

Since the existing government had announced Kondo and Katsura's execution the previous month, Hijikata and Elizabeth had begun coordinating a joint mission to save their leaders. However, the constant fights between their groups and the criminal gangs ruling Edo's underbelly made it almost impossible to schedule strategy meetings, as did the faulty telecommunications network that persevered under the crisis cabinet. So far, all they had managed to agree on was the meal course for the celebration party after the release of their leaders.

"I've already sent a note asking for a private meeting." Yamazaki stated proudly.

"It will be faster if we go to them ourselves." Hijikata said standing up.

"No, sir. They changed safe-houses again last week after Shinpachi-kun dealt with the raiders holed up in the mini-market by their place. We don't know where they are right now."

"Shit." Hijikata sat back down and brushed cigarette ash from his vest before lighting up another cigarette. His leg twitched nervously.

"Is that all?"

"T-there's just one more thing," Yamazaki said averting his eyes from the fuming demon in front of him, "J-just one more thing, i-it's not urgent."

"Just spell it out, Yamazaki!"

Yamazaki swallowed his apprehension and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Last night I went to the old Terminal ruins," Hijikata's leg stopped twitching, smoke drifted from his parted lips as he focused on Yamazaki's words, "I know you said we shouldn't waste time with the courier after they announced Kondo-san's execution. I know Kondo-san should be our first priority. I mean, he is!" Yamazaki exclaimed, eyes fleeing Hijikata's intense stare, "But after those news about Shinpachi-kun going berserk again, I couldn't sleep. I thought, why not? I'll go there one last time. I hid at my usual place, second floor bathroom of the old Oedo Beauty Life Magazine's building. I waited a couple of hours and then I saw him again. The man in the suit."

Yamazaki stopped for breath but Hijikata's silence beset him. He rushed to finish his tale.

"He came down the street calmly, not a care in the world. I could barely see a thing. Used to be there were three lamps working in that street but now there's only one so I had to use my binoculars. Good thing I know where he goes otherwise I might have lost him. He entered the Terminal through the south entrance and left a few minutes later. I made sure he had left before I sneaked inside the Terminal. Those ruins really creep me out by the way- yeah, well, I walked in, checked the candy machine and there it was, another note!".

"What did it say?"

"T-this is why I-I said it's not u-urgent," Yamazaki stuttered again, excitement all gone at the prospect of disappointing Hijikata, "It didn't say much and there was no context-"

"What did it say!"

"It's done."

The man looked like a dick. There was no denying it. Absolutely foul and disgusting. Nevertheless, Hijikata noticed the way Kagura and Shinpachi's shoulders eased around him, a nearly imperceptible subtlety which Hijikata might have overlooked had the man not been wearing Gintoki's clothes. His entire outfit. He strutted about in a disconcerting image made worse by crass remarks and a display of rude personality that matched the old Yorozuya's. Even his scent was similar, Hijikata had gotten close enough to check.

Something was definitely up. Hijikata could feel himself approaching the brink of newfound knowledge about Gintoki's disappearance, yet it was as if the final piece kept escaping his grasp. First, when Chinpo ran out of the room after Katsura's retelling of Gintoki's past encounter with the Bakufu's special squad of Planet Destroyers fifteen years ago, a story which, strangely enough, coincided with Hijikata's own research on the White Plague and reckoned the disease to be the work of man-made nanomachines. Second, when Hijikata missed the opportunity to speak to Kondo. There was so much Hijikata wanted to tell him. So much he hadn't been able to fit in the letters he'd sent to him in prison; his woes about the state of the Makotogumi, his doubts about their new alliance with Katsura's rebels, the true extent of Edo's destruction, his feelings about Sougo's withdrawal, the details of Yamazaki's barmy investigations. Hijikata yearned to talk to him about all those things, to seek his guidance, his friendly ear, the warmth of his idealistic nature that knew how to subdue Hijikata better than anyone. Maybe in doing so Hijikata would even be able to open up about his failed attempts at finding Gintoki's whereabouts; to put into words his utter disbelief at the thought of the Yorozuya's death.

But Hijikata's wishes of release would have to wait. Kondo had been imprisoned for five years and undergone no change of personality or heart. His eyes scoured the room surveying his troops but also the ones missing. The absent comrades, dead comrades, new friends and old. Hijikata knew the face he searched for the most. He caught Kondo at his tenderest looking towards the younger Shimura sibling hoping to see in him a sign of his sister. A twinge of sympathy pricked Hijikata's heart at Kondo's looming pain. The last time Hijikata had seen Shimura Tae her brother had been pushing the back of her wheelchair through the corridors of Oedo's General Hospital. Her braided hair revealing ominous streaks of white hair.

Once Kondo slipped away after Shinpachi, Hijikata considered their chance at conversation officially over. He doubted they would have been able to get through any of Hijikata's topics amidst the commotion inside the room. Everyone celebrated the return of their leaders and, though a few faces hid sadness and grief behind drunken smiles, Hijikata did his best to join in. The least he could do was feel some happiness in Kondo's stead, for in a matter of minutes the spirit of his life-long friend would be mauled by a glimpse into the inescapable clasp of death. White and breathless. Hijikata knew it well.

"Pour me a cup."

Hijikata's raised cup found Elizabeth's. They toasted to their leaders with a cheer. Outside a mighty discharge poured from the sky.

The search for the last remnant of the Planet Destroyers, Enmi, was afoot. The strength Tae had shown in the face of her last days had brought everyone together again, Makotogumi, Yorozuya and Joui rebels. The three factions had banded together in pursuit of a common goal: the end of the White Plague. The decimation of Enmi.

Indefinite adjournment besieged Hijikata's soul searching session with Kondo. The morning after Kondo's visit to Otae they exchanged a silent look of understanding which begged no further questions. No words needed. Hijikata left it at that. Having no other choice but to carry on, he focused everything on finding the bakufu mercenary.

The testimonies they had gathered from the population varied. Some described Enmi as a monk, others said he was some kind of wizard, kids told elaborate tales of the ghost in the ruins. Regardless of the excesses of imagination, the accounts all seemed to converge on three graphic details which Chinpo, Gintoki's veritable fanboy of sorts, corroborated by virtue of his own sighting of the mercenary. A robed figure in bandages wielding a staff.

It didn't take long to spread his image all over town. Yamazaki had put together a half-decent sketch of the figure and, with the power of Katsura's Joui propaganda machine behind them, no corner of Edo was left bereft of Enmi's profile.

Hijikata had finished nailing the last slip from his batch of wanted posters when he realized where he was. A street he had visited countless times before. Desolate and shabby as the rest of the city. The signboard wasn't there any more. Yorozuya Gin Chan. Even at dusk the empty space caught his eye. Tiles had gone missing from the roof. The wood paneling creaked with rot. The only light came from the ground floor where Otose's Snack Bar was still open for business. Hijikata considered stopping by for a drink. The men tasked with distributing the posters with him would probably cry tears of joy at the chance. But one look up the stairs towards the second floor of the building had Hijikata clenching his fists. He turned his back on the street and decided he'd better to return to the inn.

"Pack it up, men. We're done for today."

The men grunted in agreement and made for the two cars parked nearby. Hijikata took a drag on his cigarette and glanced back at the Yorozuya's place one last time. He saw a short figure approach. Head round and bald. The goggles gave him away. Hiraga Gengai. The crazy old bastard who had been the main culprit in Kondo's imprisonment. There was only one thing Hijikata regretted about storming his execution and it was the simple fact he had not been able to enact his revenge on the lunatic geezer. Even that small pleasure Chinpo had taken away from him.

Hijikata's hand moved unconsciously to the hilt of his sword. His fingers hovered above it as he deliberated on whether or not to unsheathe his blade but Gengai's cart gave him pause. The old man had stopped it in front of Otose's bar and was doubled over struggling to pull something gangly and heavy out of it. His fussing raised enough racket that Otose herself had to step out of the bar to yell at him. Hijikata heard her gravelly voice as she called for help.

"Catherine! Catherine! Come help this old wretch with his toy! He is going to break his back if he keeps up like this."

"I'm fine, old hag. Leave me be!"

"Shut up. You're giving me a headache."

Catherine appeared a few minutes later but by then Gengai had already managed to get his contraption out of the cart and Hijikata had recognized it. A fitting description.

The man in the suit.

"Sir, we're ready to go." one of the task force men informed him. Hijikata dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

"Go on ahead. I need to check one last spot."

"But, sir, it's late. You shouldn't-"

"I'll be fine." Hijikata's reply was final.

The men got inside the cars and drove away. Hijikata lit another cigarette and rummaged through the pockets of his long coat for his notebook. He flicked page after page in search of Yamazaki's notes about the courier and while he did it he hid himself in the narrow alley beside Otose's bar, in the same spot Gintoki had ushered the two of them from view dozens of times before. The scent of wet cardboard and black tea mixed in the air, nostalgic and familiar. Yet Hijikata's heart thumped alarmingly and the memories couldn't break through the exhilarating advent of discovery. The missing piece. The ghost in the Terminal ruins. The man in the suit. Gengai's toy. Could that mean the man was a robot? If so, why was it delivering cryptic messages at the Terminal? Who were they for? Could it be Enmi? Did Gengai know the mercenary?

So close. Hijikata was so close. Thumb and forefinger held the cigarette between his lips. He sucked in the nicotine desperately. A passing shadow startled him. He pressed his back against the wall in a knee-jerk reaction and extricated a deep breath before testing a peek at Otose's front door.

Chinpo.

That fucker.

Hijikata cursed silently. Could he not have two minutes of rest before the fucking clown decided to ruin his peace? His ability to think? He seemed to pop up at the worst of times, assaulting Hijikata with that damned familiar combination of white and blue. Hijikata peeped at the street corner again willing daggers to shoot out of his eyes.

But the most incredible thing happened.

The dickhead lifted a hand to his face and plucked out the mole pinned to the middle of his forehead. The foreskin head blew into a mess of silver curls. Hijikata's foot slipped. He lost the strength to keep standing. The sound of his boot scraping the ground caught the attention of the ghost. Hijikata crawled on all fours and hid behind a dumpster. His heart sprung to his throat. Footsteps approached. Otose's voice saved him.

"Oi, Gintoki, come inside before someone sees you, you idiot!"

"Trying to ruin your own plan, uh?"

"Shut up, hag-duo! I'm tired."

The footsteps drew away. Tension lifted from Hijikata's shoulders and he slumped against the back alley's wall, body limp like a puppet's except for the trembling. He didn't trust himself to stand. Five years of unresolved grief channeled out of him in waves he couldn't battle. He lay by the dumpster in silence while the sound of Gintoki's voice filled his ears.

"Still haven't found Enmi?"

"Not yet." Gintoki replied.

"Otae-chan doesn't have much longer."

"I know that."

"You said you saw him before." Otose said.

"Yeah, he seems to know who I am. Sometimes I feel a shadow following me."

"It's certainly starting to look like he is the reason you died." Gengai observed.

Gintoki hummed in agreement.

"Don't waste time, Kintoki. I'll make sure the Time Thief is repaired so you can go back to your timeline. But don't think you'll have a second try at this. It's now or never."

"I know, old man."

Yamazaki was asleep when Hijikata returned to the Makotogumi barracks in the dead of night. Hijikata yanked Yamazaki from his futon and dragged him to his quarters by the collar of his pajamas.

"Wha-what's going on, Vice Commander? Have you found him? Enmi?"

Hijikata had no time for other people's questions. He sat Yamazaki down in front of his desk and threw him his pocket notebook.

"Your reports on the Terminal courier. How many times did you follow him without my consent?"

"T-the courier?" Yamazaki replied drowsy, massaging his stomach.

"Yes. The man in the suit."

The words flicked a switch in Yamazaki's brain. His favorite subject. The most interesting thing in his life apart from anpan. The side-investigation he prided himself of. The web of mystery and deceit he had uncovered from a simple order given by Hijikata a year before.

I need you to find out why no street gang settles in the Terminal ruins.

Yamazaki couldn't say he had accomplished his mission. In fact his complete failure at finding out why the ruins were deserted was the reason Hijikata had stopped looking into it. But Yamazaki had relinquished too many days and nights of watch to give up the task. He had never stopped monitoring the ruins, nor the strange messenger that left notes in the south entrance's candy machine.

"I've compiled a thorough diary of my investigations, sir. I used to go there daily, but after you told me to stop surveillance I dropped my watches to twice a week, then once a week. Now I go once every two weeks, sometimes on Saturdays when the rest of the guys cancel the evening rec plans and-"

"Describe him to me. The courier. With as much detail as possible."

"Well, he wears a fine dark blue suit. Some people would call it black, but I think I know a dark blue when I see it. The light from the street lamps is a bit orangy so sometimes it looks dark brown, but that's just a play of light. I'd say the suit is dark blue. Once I saw him in the morning and the weather was pretty sunny so I could see him really clearly-"

"You mentioned in one of your reports that he wears a helmet?"

"Yes, sir. You can't see his face. He wears something on his head. Sure, it resembles a helmet, but it looks like someone put a big lens on the front. It's weird, I've never seen a helmet like that."

"You're stupid Yamazaki but you've helped me a great deal."

"Have I?" Yamazaki's voice was full with genuine surprise. His eyes followed Hijikata's frame as he stood up and put his coat back on.

"A-are you leaving, sir?"

"Yeah."

"But it's…" Yamazaki glanced at his naked wrist then at the walls of Hijikata's quarters until he found a clock ticking on the wall behind him, "It's almost three in the morning."

"You ever followed the courier to his home?"

"Uh, no, sir. The few times I tried to I lost him near the Kabuki District."

Hijikata snorted. Something like a chuckle.

"Are you alright, Hijikata-san? Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," Hijikata replied calmly, "But I'll give you a tip. Next time you follow the courier home try Hiraga Gengai's garage."

"Hiraga Gengai's?"

"Don't wait up for me."

The air was thin in the Terminal ruins. Hard to breathe. Although Edo as a whole had been ravaged, the Terminal ruins embodied the crux of its destruction. No wonder kids believed ghosts lived there. The wind blew different. The sun didn't reach the ground. Gusts of wind swerved on the uneven edges of destitute buildings before being swallowed up by gaping holes of concrete. Hijikata advanced by car as far as the road let him, steering around the immovable obstructions in his way. Overturned vehicles, broken lamps, massive piles of debris that had crumbled from the surrounding skyscrapers.

He left the car by the south entrance where Yamazaki had reported seeing the courier deliver the letters. The sight of the dusty candy machine recalled a life experienced but unexplained. Hijikata wondered if Yamazaki's obsession with the case had transferred itself to him. He checked the mouth of the candy machine for a note but it was empty. No more hints to guide him. Only instinct.

The echo of Hijikata's footsteps accompanied him as he pressed forward, meek comfort though it was. In his haste he had forgotten to bring a flashlight so he progressed slowly up the Terminal's many floors. Dawn grew close to break when Hijikata reached the atrium of a carved hangar and heard the jingling sound of metal. His hand flew to the handle of his sword. The effort of climbing a thousand steps vanished as the adrenaline kicked in. A red beam of light pierced the pitch black corner of the upper walkway. Hijikata craned his neck to follow the light as it descended to his level and revealed the face sketched in the wanted poster. Faint morning light blasted into the atrium through the chasm where a spacecraft hangar had once existed teeming with crew and passengers.

Hijikata's eyes roamed the figure committing every detail to memory so he could remember it later, after he had put him under the ground.

"I'm Hijikata Toushirou. Is it Enmi they call you?" Hijikata asked, unsheathing his sword, "Your real name is of no importance to me," he said as his question met with silence, "It is enough that you know mine. A man should know the name of his executioner."

The staff jingled with movement. Hijikata liked the sound. Enmi was rattled.

"This world is not yours to consume and neither is that body. Once you are dead you will return it to me."

The staff jingled again and this time Enmi leaped forward. Hijikata met him halfway. Sword and staff clashed with a clamour that reverberated throughout the endless corridors and hollow spaces of the Terminal. The floor shook under Hijikata's feet but his mind was elsewhere, removed from the dangers of the real word, keen on extinguishing the red light creeping through the bandaged face in front of him. Blow after blow, their weapons sought each other across the expanse of the atrium. Hijikata's sword cut through stone pillars as Enmi dodged his attacks, and the reinforced walls of the atrium cracked as Hijikata deflected Enmi's staff and sent the mercenary flying.

He missed their fights. He missed their arguments. No ghost from the past could quench that yearning. No half-dead lookalike. The truth was in front of his face. That hateful red glint of a brain riddled with nanomachines festering a curse incurable. Hijikata hoped killing Enmi would put a stop to the White Plague. How could he bury Gintoki's body otherwise? How could he do what he was about to? Seek his heart and push his blade right through it.

Gintoki was no more alive than the man in the suit, Gengai's time-machine, broken and lifeless.

Gintoki was dead.

Dead!

"The only one who can kill me is me."

The blunt end of Enmi's staff hit Hijikata's gut from a blind spot. Hijikata staggered backwards as the air was expelled from his lungs. His back collided with one of the atrium's pillars and though the impact sent his head spinning, the solid column kept him upright and he was able to anticipate Enmi's next attack, the jingling sound of his staff producing the perfect cue.

In a flash Hijikata's blade ripped through the bandages wrapped around Enmi's ear and a patch of white hair sprung from the deliberate cut. Hijikata's heart clenched, gripped by nostalgia and a feeling of hope he hadn't felt so sure of before. He stepped back to dodge another vicious swing of Enmi's staff. His eyes searched his opponent's for one more tiny piece of proof and Hijikata realized belatedly, with staff piercing his thigh, that the entire fight had been proof. Testimony. Not one blow made to kill. Not one swing of Enmi's staff aimed towards a critical area. The fresh wound incited a cry from him but the pain of recognition numbed his entire body. Every movement of Enmi had been carefully measured, precise, like the steps of a seasoned dancer. Hijikata wondered how many times Enmi had rehearsed this. How many old allies had experienced this battle of wills. Enmi's against Gintoki's.

"Are you too proud to ask for help? You?" Hijikata uttered, blood dripping down his leg and soaking around the wound, a color darker than the black of his coat, "Have you lost your hearing too?"

Enmi made to pull his staff from Hijikata's leg but Hijikata's free hand held it firmly in place. He groaned aloud to shake off the excruciating pain and with a deep breath threw his sword aside. Enmi's eyes widened. The gesture stunned him long enough for Hijikata to get close. His hand found Enmi's bandaged face and he pulled at the bandages hard, nails scraping against skin.

"There you are."

The same unintelligible scribbling that was written all over the bandages marked Gintoki's face. The characters crept up his neck towards his eyes which looked as dead and soulless as Hijikata had ever seen them. He only wanted to know one thing.

Why.

But he couldn't bring himself to speak. He coughed. The blood oozing from his leg added to the dizzying sensation overtaking him.

"I know you're there." Hijikata said.

A faint smile crossed Gintoki's weary face.

"Was I so obvious?"

Hijikata failed to keep a tear from falling down his cheek. Even though he had heard that voice the night before, hearing it now filled him to the brim. This was him. The Gintoki he knew. The one who had vanished from his life.

"Embarrassingly so." Hijikata replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Gintoki's torn bandages still tightly wrapped around his fingers.

"Took you long enough."

Hijikata had lowered his head for a moment, breath hitching, but the accusation brought it up swiftly. He opened his mouth to deliver a furious diatribe, emotions pressing unchecked, but the staff moved. Gintoki pulled it from Hijikata's leg with a strong jerk. The words died on Hijikata's mouth as he cried out in pain. His good knee gave out and he lost his footing. He stumbled forward into Gintoki's space and Gintoki caught him haphazardly, unacquainted with touch, fearful of it for the deadly curse in his veins. The blunt end of his staff met the floor as he stretched out his arms to catch Hijikata.

"Put me down." Hijikata groaned.

Gintoki let go of the staff. He put his hands under Hijikata's arms and helped him down to a sitting position.

"How did you find me?"

"I know what you've done." Hijikata said out of breath, biting his lip.

Gintoki noticed the way he clutched at his leg. He tied a knot over the bloody wound with a torn piece of his cloak and Hijikata hissed as Gintoki tightened it.

"I saw you. The you from the past. Him being here… it's all your doing, isn't it?" the question didn't beg for an answer and Hijikata carried on, determined to keep Gintoki's red gleaming eyes on him, "Back then… when you went around asking questions about the sick people, you already knew what was going on. It was foolish of me not to see it."

Gintoki didn't reply.

"Drawing back your hand, pulling away from my touch. You didn't tell me shit, you selfish bastard! You just had to go and do everything on your own."

Gintoki closed his eyes and drew another smile.

"You'll find it hard to believe-"

"Shut up. Shut up!"

A pulse beat madly in Hijikata's leg. Despite the tight knot over his wound he could feel the blood pumping out of him, seeping his strength. He had finally found Gintoki and now his body was giving up.

"I could kill you right now," Hijikata groaned, "You've been here… all this time? Alive?"

"Alone," Gintoki said softly, "That's what this curse is all about. The White Plague is just a means to an end. The dead people, the casualties, they're just fodder for these guys," Gintoki pointed to his head, "They whisper to me. All the time. Sometimes I'm not sure I'm even here. But I hear them."

"What do they say?"

"Things I used to say to myself," Gintoki said, "Things I said before I had a blooming business and a home and a bunch of idiots who cared for me. I even went on a few dates. Really had my life made, you know?"

Hijikata leaned his head back against the column, away from Gintoki and his gibberish.

"I don't want to hear about any of that!" he snapped.

"Then what do you want to hear, Hijikata? The clock is ticking," Gintoki's fingers brushed over his leg wound, "You're going to pass out soon."

Hijikata growled like an animal. He looked around for his sword and found it lying on the atrium floor far out of reach. Stripped of his weapon and his strength, all he had left were his wits and a frantic need to keep Gintoki in front of him.

"You said the only one who could kill you was you. Is that why you brought your past self here? To kill you? Is that what those machines are saying?!"

"Very smart, Vice-Commander."

"Is it that hard to split open your own belly?"

Gintoki chuckled.

"Yeah, this precious body you came to claim is not mine any more."

Hijikata's eyes met Gintoki's. He reached for Gintoki's hand but Gintoki withdrew it.

"The machines command it now. I'm banned from doing anything they deem dangerous to its integrity."

"Then why didn't you ask for help? I would gladly kill you right now." Hijikata said.

"Would you?" the teasing tone faded from Gintoki's voice along with the illusory smile Hijikata had been reveling in from the moment the bandages had come off, "There's more to killing me than you think. Besides, how could I ever ask that of you?"

Hijikata grabbed the collar of Gintoki's cloak. He had lost all feeling in his leg.

"Kiss me."

"No."

"If your past self succeeds it won't matter whether I live or die. I don't care if I'm cursed."

Gintoki's hand was cold as it touched Hijikata's.

"Of course it matters, you idiot."

"Then now you know."

Hijikata mustered what strength he had left and mashed their lips together.

Hijikata woke up in a hospital bed. An eerie silence enveloped his ward and he wondered if the death toll had finally overcome the number of sick people. Maybe his bed was one among many empty. Or maybe the reverse had happened, the plague was over and the curse had been lifted. He could only hope.

His bedside table was empty except for an empty cup of water and his pocket notebook where Yamazaki had scribbled new lines after Hijikata's last entry.

'Found the courier's body at Hiraga Gengai's garage as well as two sets of schematics. Claimed everything for unlawful use. Looking for an expert to see about disassembling and removal of helmet(...)'

Hijikata shut the notebook as the door to his room opened and revealed a sight he despised.

"Take it off."

Gintoki took out the mole and shed his Chinpo disguise without protest. His lack of defiance or dissimulation unsettled Hijikata. His pulse picked up.

"I can't stand the sight of you. What do you want?"

"Nice to meet you too, Asshole-From-The-Future. I just came to see how you were. Shinpachi told me they found you bleeding to death at the inn's front door."

"You've seen me."

"And you have seen me."

"You barged in here."

"No, I meant the old me."

Hijikata turned his head and their eyes met for the first time since Gintoki had entered the room.

No.

Gintoki was bruised from a fight. His yukata hung in taters. Someone had already patched him up, bandages wrapped tight around his arms and torso. His messy state could only mean one thing.

"The only one who can defeat me is me," Hijikata repeated the words aloud, his fingers dug into the bed covers, "You killed him."

"Yeah, that's what I came here for," Gintoki said, eyes cast low, "But he gave me another task before I go. There's one last thing I have to do."

Hijikata went very still afraid of the question he wanted to ask.

"What's that?"

"I'm gonna turn everything back to the way it was. Before the White Plague."

"What?"

"I'm gonna stop the White Plague from ever happening."

Hijikata's eyes widened. Gintoki's train of thought came to him seamlessly and logical. Gintoki was in possession of a time machine after all.

"No."

Hijikata sat up and reached for Gintoki's wrist. Gintoki raised their joined hands and examined Hijikata's amused.

"No?"

Hijikata couldn't stand the levity in his voice.

"Is this you being selfish, Hijikata-kun?"

"You're gonna kill yourself."

"Yeah, I'm getting pretty good at it."

"You bastard!"

"Hey, you won't even remember any of this. I won't even-"

Hijikata released Gintoki's wrist and reached for the sword Yamazaki had left by his bed. He unsheathed it in a matter of seconds and lunged at Gintoki callously. Reason cast aside. His thigh throbbed with pain as he jumped out of the bed yet the pain-killers assuaged the sensation.

Gintoki barely managed to dodge his attack. He stopped Hijikata's blade with his bokuto and fell backwards. Hijikata perched on top of him.

"You're calling me selfish, you sadistic piece of shit?!" Hijikata bellowed.

"I don't have any other choice."

"You're gonna erase everyone's memories of you just like that?"

"Yeah, at least you get to live!" Gintoki cried out.

"And I should be thankful for that? As if I would ever let a bastard, good-for-nothing, dumbshit, scumbag like you decide my fate! I live by my sword not yours!"

"Then just fucking kill me."

Hijikata brought his sword down over Gintoki. He struck it an inch above his shoulder into the hospital's linoleum floor. The sword clattered to the other end of the room and Hijikata broke down crying. Tears streamed down his face despite the deep breaths he took to stop them. Blood pumped madly through his heart and he clenched his fists as he cried in a fit of rage, utterly powerless.

"Hijikata."

Gintoki pulled himself up and took Hijikata in his arms, embrace steadfast against Hijikata's struggling. Hijikata pushed his hands against Gintoki's wounded chest and if he saw the bandages soil with blood he ignored it.

"Don't touch me! Get off!"

Gintoki drew back to look into Hijikata's eyes, their faces inches from each other.

Warm lips found Hijikata's and he opened his mouth to scream but there was no stopping the barrage of longing and desire Gintoki had called forth. Hijikata moaned into their kiss unbidden, chest heaving. He pulled back to breathe and Gintoki's thumbs cleared the tears from his cheeks. Hijikata leaned into his touch but winced as the pain in his leg returned reminding him of his feeble state. He thought of the afflicted Gintoki, too scared to touch him, too lost, too consumed to kiss him back.

"What's that face for?"

Gintoki whisked away the hard lines between Hijikata's brows with a touch of his lips.

"It's just my face, asshole."

"I'm still getting used to it, you know."

"What do you mean?"

"The V-shape is gone," Gintoki said tracing Hijikata's forehead with his fingertips, "And there's wrinkles now-"

Hijikata's fingers twitched and he seized a fistful of silver curls.

"Oi, oi, oi, I'm joking! I like it, there's more space to work with now, I mean, that forehead is…"

"Gintoki," Hijikata's voice cut through the light tone of conversation, his grip loosened "I won't let you leave this room to go erase yourself from existence."

"It's not up to you."

"The kids wouldn't want that either."

"I've seen what the plague does. Tae is dying. Kagura and Shinpachi could be next. You too. And it's all on me. I'm the one who carries the curse. It's my job to end it. There's nothing you can do about it."

"Over my dead body."

"You forget how well I know you, Hijikata-kun," a sad smile crossed Gintoki's features and he turned his gaze towards the door he'd left ajar, "I've given clear instructions to this guy that's been helping me. If I don't leave this room he is to hand over Kondo to the government authorities and make sure they carry his execution. You wouldn't let that happen, would you, Hijikata-kun?"

Hijikata crawled back away from Gintoki. Fists clenched against the cold hospital floor.

"You are a bastard. You're rotten!"

"Don't worry. All the hate you feel will be like it never existed. Ain't that great?"