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 3: DEMON
"Bit disgraceful how full this joint is. Ain't the country supposed to be at war?"
The old lady behind the counter shrugged. She set Hijikata's drink down and gave him the evil eye proud country folk turn to strangers when they want to keep their own opinions secret and the strangers' null.
"Pay up."
Hijikata threw a couple of coins on the counter. The old woman retrieved them with a swipe of her hand and turned away.
"Don't take my wife's attitude to heart. She has a bad temper that one." a man said beside him. He was well into his years, around sixty, skin wrinkled around his eyes but glistening with sweat and a certain joy that came from hard, fulfilling work.
"I didn't." Hijikata replied.
"Pardon me for saying so, but you don't look like no regular drifter." the old man said. He gave Hijikata a once over, eyes lingering on the long black coat and the sheathed sword at Hijikata's hip.
"You a dog? We don't like dogs here."
Hijikata furrowed his brow. He took a sip of his drink and looked around to catch the feel of the room. Among the twenty or so patrons crammed inside the small bar not one wore more than two layers of clothing. Hijikata stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of plain cotton kimonos. He noticed half a dozen men stare back at him while hanging onto the old man's every word.
"Is your patriotism so cheap you would accept money from a dog?"
A couple of men stood up. Chairs fell back and rattled against the floor. Low whispers and loud cries replaced the thrum of merry chattering.
"Traitor!"
"Bakufu dog!"
"Get the hell outta here!"
Hijikata put down his cup.
"You better leave, mister," the old man said, "We don't want any trouble here. Just a quiet drink."
Hijikata snorted unable to stifle his laughter.
"A quiet drink? Half the country is starving and the other is dying on the battlefield, but here you are drinking your worries away. Life is easy when all you have to think about is the price of a drink," Hijikata appraised the empty sake cup with his fingers, "It tasted terrible by the way. Someone should teach you Joui rats how to steal better sake."
"Bastard!"
"Get him!"
Another ten men rose out of their seats. Agile, sandaled feet leapt over flipped chairs towards Hijikata. The dim light of the bar lamps gleamed on their short blades. Hijikata kicked his stool in their direction and reached for his sword but the old man had gotten to it first. He unsheathed it in less than a second, calloused hands weary but familiar with the gears of war.
"I told you to leave."
The tips of half a dozen blades prickled Hijikata's back. He could not move.
"I got the message." Hijikata said.
"Yes, I'm glad you did," the old man nodded. The hilt of Hijikata's sword was secure in his grasp and the tip of its blade awfully close to Hijikata's neck, "But you're a rabid dog and we can't let a dog like that go."
A chorus of voices joined readily.
"Yeah, pops!"
"Tell him what we do to rabid dogs!"
"We put them down!"
A lazy smile stretched along the creased features of the old man.
"I'm afraid my compatriots are right. You see, if the war has taught us anything is that we can't trust dogs. And rabid dogs go to the slaughterhouse. We eat them right up."
Hijikata reached a hand into the inner pocket of his coat. The swords at his back dug into the coat's smooth fabric as he searched for his pack of cigarettes. He took one out and lit it. The old man's gaze followed his every move but he didn't budge.
"That was a nice speech, old man," Hijikata blew out a long cloud of smoke, "But I'm not gonna leave this joint until you tell me the location of the rebel encampment that's supplying you with all this food and drink. Why don't you tell the missus to run and go get them?"
Before the old man could get a word in, Hijikata flicked the tip of his burning cigarette in the old man's eyes. The man gasped with pain as flaming ashes burned skin and eyelashes. Behind Hijikata the creeping blades froze with surprise. Hijikata yanked the empty scabbard hanging from his hip and struck the old man's hand to retrieve his blade.
"Kill him! Kill the bastard!" the old man yelled as he fell to his knees.
Cries of rage reverberated around the room. The sting of humiliation dug deep but not enough to stop Hijikata as he cut through men like butter. A few men, probably farmers, ran out of the bar screaming. The number of opponents dwindled quickly and Hijikata was soon left alone with the whimpering man behind him.
Moans and sobs punctuated the room's quiet. Unconscious men lay with bloody wounds on the floor, draped over upturned tables and clutching broken stools. A new cigarette held fast between Hijikata's lips as he turned to face his host.
"May the White Demon strike you dead!" the old man cursed him.
Hijikata shook the blood off his sword with a flick of his wrist.
"He can try."
Hijikata followed the old man's wife up a muddy, serpentine path that led him away from the village towards a forest high in the hills where rocky terrain and tall, lush trees hid the rebel encampment from sight. Natural camouflage and a vantage point. Solid strategy. Hijikata could guess the mastermind behind the choice of location, though he had been wrong before. He had roamed war-torn land for two weeks with no sight of any major Joui camp, caught familiar names on the mouths of moralizing fools and whispering dissidents but no clear directions. The sparse leads he had gathered had taken him to a promising village aflame with Joui sentiment but little intel. The running woman was his only hope of reaching his camp, the one where the White Demon slept.
Long shadows filled the empty spaces between the trees as the sun set. Hijikata concealed himself in the underbrush as the camp's walls unfolded in the distance. The rebels had no soldiers posted at the gates but they had eyes on the walls. Sentries patrolled the ramparts, their top knots emerging occasionally above the high walls.
Hijikata watched as the old woman banged her arms against the wooden gates and cried for help.
"Masters! Masters! Help!"
After a moment the gate opened slowly and a murmur of activity escaped from within kindling the air with the scent of smoke and sweat. A man came out the slender opening. Shoulders taut. A soldier.
"What do you want?" he barked.
"Please, help!" the woman kneeled at the soldier's feet and clung to his trousers, cheeks glistening with the tracks of her tears "A dog! There's a bakufu dog in the village! He came into my husband's place looking for you. You have to help us! He must have killed everyone by now!"
Hijikata couldn't see the man's face but he read his body language clearly. The soldier believed her. He helped the woman off the ground and motioned for her to follow him. Hijikata presumed she would go retell her story to whoever was in charge, and thus an indefinite length of time awaited Hijikata with no cigarettes to avail him. He thought of Yamazaki for some reason, the endless nights he had been out on recon missions. At least the fool didn't suffer a nicotine addiction to compromise his position.
Minutes stretched into hours. The sun had set. Despite the cold temperature encroaching with the night sky, waiting left Hijikata drowsy and slow. His eyes were half-lidded and battling sleep when the camp gates burst open and a group of eight men walked out. He recognized at once the one leading them. Long dark hair billowed after him and bright torch light illuminated his features. Hijikata didn't think twice.
"Katsura!"
Hijikata fled the bushes in a rush. The soldiers took out their swords ready for an attack and the woman shrieked again. She stood next to Katsura pointing frantically in Hijikata's direction.
"That's him! That's him!"
Katsura's eyes steeled with resolve.
"Seize him!" he waved a hand and the men acted on his request with a cry.
"I've an important message to deliver!" Hijikata bellowed, swatting away the soldier's charges with his sword, "I only ask for a moment of your time, asshole!"
He tried to be courteous on account of all the good Elizabeth had done to him lately, but Katsura was still very much a terrorist in Hijikata's book. Not to mention he had been involved in Kondo's imprisonment too. In a way he was very much like his brainless friend. Always showing up when Hijikata least wanted him to, though Hijikata couldn't remember the last time he had felt that way. He wanted to see Gintoki all the time now. Even if only in nightmares.
"Throw aside your sword and I'll let you walk inside our camp in shackles."
The foot of one soldier found Hijikata's side and he stumbled. At Katsura's words the men stopped and gave Hijikata room to breathe. Hijikata spit dust from his mouth and sheathed his sword before throwing it to the ground near Katsura's feet.
"Where are your shackles?" he asked, showing the men his wrists.
Katsura's face yielded no emotion but his intense stare bore into Hijikata's looking for an explanation. The quick subjugation had piqued his interest.
"What are you doing? Why are you sparing him?!" the woman cried outraged.
"The man has surrendered of his own accord. I would like to hear what he has to say." Katsura said.
"But he's a murderer! A traitor!"
"I didn't kill anyone, you hag," Hijikata spat, gritting his teeth as two men tied his wrists behind his back, "If you go back to the bar you'll find your customers bleeding and sore but alive."
"You lie!"
"Best if she sees it with her own eyes," Katsura offered. He turned to his men and gestured towards the woman, "Please take her down to the village and see to the injured. If this man speaks the truth we can still save them."
The soldiers nodded while the woman sobbed.
"If not he will die by my sword."
Dozens of square tents occupied the area inside the encampment's walls. Pillars of smoke rose across the colorful expanse of canvas. The acrid scent of burnt wood mixed with the encroaching stench of sweat and mud. Hijikata followed Katsura as he navigated trampled ground towards a tent of peculiar shape which was empty except for two hardy wooden poles stuck in the center.
"Tie him up."
The two men escorting Hijikata forcibly sat him down and bound him to one of the poles, ropes biting into his chest. Once they were done Katsura ushered them away.
"Leave us."
Hijikata took deep breaths to regain his composure. He believed a self-assured posture was sure to irk Katsura, but Katsura's face pissed Hijikata more than anything. The idiot had to be some kind of vampire or immortal creature because nothing else could account for the fact that fifteen years separated the Katsura Hijikata had allied himself with from the one pacing back and forth in front of him trying to outsmart him. Both looked exactly the same. Not one crinkle more, not one crinkle less. His hair was the exact same length. If an expert measured it, they would probably find out the length of both hairs matched to the last millimeter. It was fucking crazy.
I'm starting to sound like him. Hijikata thought displeased.
"You step into enemy lines alone," Katsura said aloud, "Call me by my name, which means you definitely know who I am and are therefore well connected with the best government spies. You say you have an important message to deliver, so important you are ready to relinquish your sword, the heart of a samurai, to bring me this message. I want to know what that message is, dog."
"I didn't come here as a government spy." Hijikata replied.
"Oh?"
"I came here on an errand from a friend of yours." Hijikata said, skin chafing against the tight rope binding his wrists. His story was built on half truths but he was confident Katsura would believe him. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he believed meeting Katsura before anyone else was the best thing that could have happened. Any other person from Gintoki's past would not have given Hijikata the time of day. Not even blood-thirsty Shiroyasha himself.
"What friend?"
Hijikata jutted his jaw towards his chest.
"I can't reveal their name but I brought proof. It's tucked inside my vest."
"A poisoned dagger?"
Hijikata sighed. Of course, the Katsura of fifteen years ago was also a moron.
"If you unbind me I can show it to you."
"Your tricks don't work on me." Katsura said. He bit back a laugh and crouched in front of Hijikata. He slipped one hand inside Hijikata's vest and took out a musty book with a nasty cut on the top. Hijikata's mouth went dry with anticipation.
Katsura flipped through the first few pages and, realizing what it was, dropped it on the ground.
"What kind of foul magic is this! It can't be!" he stepped away from Hijikata and grabbed his sword, "Who are you? How do you have Sensei's textbook in your possession?! This is… this is…"
He was too shocked to put the revelation into words so Hijikata supplied him the rest.
"That's your textbook. I got it from a friend of yours, fifteen years in the future."
Silence befell the sheltered tent room. Katsura's disbelief subsided and he picked up the textbook from the ground to peruse it again. He leafed through page after page, hesitated over his own scribblings on the margins, touched the lips of the garish cut on the cover.
One of the men stationed at the front of the tent interrupted his moment of wonder.
"Katsura-dono, they are back."
Katsura shut the book and stashed it inside his kimono.
"Stay there."
"Where the fuck would I go." Hijikata muttered under his breath.
Gintoki trudged to his tent. The smell of iron was bitter and lingering. Specks of blood marred the beautiful white of his kimono, stains so small few of his comrades spotted them, though most didn't want to, preferring instead to feed their fables. Whenever he returned from battle with a pristine kimono the gossiping seemed to multiply tenfold, the myth seemed to span new horrors, 'He cut through the creatures so quickly their blood didn't reach him', 'He shattered a man's sword with his bare hands', 'He split a bakufu dog's head in half and his sword came off clean', 'He slashed through ten enemies and licked their blood from his sword'. Gintoki couldn't say at which point he had started to lose interest in the tales. He had dropped them all together the moment he'd stopped being able to tell truth from lie.
Inside the Joui camp, groups of comrades parted to let him pass. Their gazes studied his figure in awe but averted at the merest turn of his head. He shrugged them off thinking of his bed, the cot in the corner of his tent where he spent his greatest and most terrible hours. Hopefully his body would be too spent to let him rest properly without dreams of demons.
He entered his tent and dropped the heavy bag of loot tossed over his shoulder at the foot of his bed. Goosebumps prickled him as a soft breeze crept through the breaches in his tent and brushed against his damp skin. He took off his chest armor and fell down on the cot with a long sigh. He was expected to give Zura a report having just come from another raid gone wrong, but he ached for sleep. He would be fine with five minutes of sleep, just five. Well, ten. Ten would be perfect. Or fifteen? Thirty? Thirty was good. A round number, quite nice. Almost as nice as a full hour. Yes, one hour was-
"Gintoki! Gintoki!" Katsura stormed into his tent unannounced, yells strident and abnormal. Gintoki rolled over in his cot like a babe. Maybe if he ignored Zura he would go away.
"Gintoki! No sleep now! You must come right away! Right now! You have to see this! You must come!"
Gintoki took a deep breath and propped up on his elbows, a frown plastered all over his place.
"Gintoki-no-sleep-now?" Gintoki repeated Katsura's words in a mocking tone, teeth grinding, "I'm not in the mood, Zura! I'm tired, I'll give you my report tomorrow, alright? Fuck off!"
Gintoki turned around to sleep but Katsura was relentless. Not everyone had the gall to enter Gintoki's tent uninvited, much less disturb his sleep, however Katsura's childhood-friend card gave him liberties Gintoki was very much thinking about revoking.
"What the fuck, Zura!?"
"You have to come with me right now!" Katsura said, kneeling by Gintoki, hands fastened on his collar, "We captured a man from the future. He has my textbook! Sensei's textbook, the textbook Sensei gave to me!"
"What?"
Katsura reached a hand into his kimono and produced the flimsy book.
"You see?! You see!?" he exclaimed, pupils blown wide.
Gintoki flipped through the book uninterested. Katsura's stupidity had reached a new high that week and he wasn't having it. Perhaps if Takasugi didn't spend half his time away, burning inns and making a show of himself and the Kiheitai, Gintoki wouldn't have to deal with Katsura's fantasies on a daily basis. All those ration proposals and elaborate battle plans Gintoki had no patience for. All those fucking reports. Gintoki might excel in combat but he definitely didn't excel as a military man.
"He got in a fight with some locals. A woman came to us about him. Said he was a bakufu spy. But how could he possess something like this? When I asked him, he said he came from the future. Fifteen years from now!"
"Zura, have you been sleeping properly? Maybe you should take some time to yourself? Kick back and relax a bit? All this planning and bakufu spy nonsense you have been going on about recently has finally got to your brain. It was rotten before but now it's total garbage."
"Gintoki! Listen to me, I'm not kidding! Go talk to him yourself. There's something about him. He said he has a message to deliver. Come see him with me."
"I'll go if you promise not to pester me about this after we deal with him. And no reporting until I take a deserved nap."
"You have my word. But I need that report before midnight."
Hijikata had gotten busy during the twenty minutes Katsura had left him alone in the prison tent. Blood dripped down his bottom lip from an unfortunate bite while trying to get rid of his constraints. He had managed to free himself of the ropes tying his wrists together and was currently struggling to undo the crazy knot binding him to the tent post. The knot was worthy of the world's best boy scouts and Hijikata might have respected them were he not in a literal fucking bind because of them.
Shuffling feet outside the tent interrupted his wriggling efforts. Hijikata returned to his captive position, hands behind his back mimicking his previous restraints. Katsura entered first and held up the tent flap to let a second person inside. When Hijikata saw the bright silver hair his heart burst with a silly fever he was too stunned to name properly.
"Definitely a bafuku dog." Gintoki said as he set eyes on Hijikata.
Somehow hearing him say it angered Hijikata more than hearing it from anybody else. Stupid asshole was still an asshole, Shiroyasha or not.
"Surrendered easy, didn't you?" Gintoki crouched by Hijikata and grabbed a hold of his chin, "I wouldn't trust a dog like you with a whole army behind my back. Especially a dog who still acts captured even though his hands are untied."
"What?" Katsura gasped and circled around the pole to check the ropes on Hijikata's wrists, "You're right, Gintoki!"
Gintoki's eyes scanned every inch of Hijikata's face measuring his reaction.
"Didn't even flinch." he muttered.
Hijikata's heart hammered inside his ribcage as conflicting feelings of longing and dread disturbed him. For a second he had expected Gintoki to recognize him, he had waited for that bated breath, the slight ease of expression at recognition, the smile Gintoki always bestowed upon him through his mask of nonchalance. But the White Demon showed no such thing. A morbid curiosity at a man who claimed to come from the future, perhaps. The cunning apprehension of a general. Hijikata watched Gintoki as he stood up. He was a vision Hijikata couldn't help but bask in. His hair was longer, curls messier than he remembered. The cleavage of his kimono showed firm muscle and sharp collar bones that spread to wide lanky shoulders. His cheeks were thinner too, no parfaits or sweets to round them in times of war. The famed Shiroyasha was nothing but a strange combination of battle hardened edges in a body ravaged by growth spurts.
"Gintoki, what are you doing?"
Gintoki had unsheathed his sword. A faint red gleam shone across the length of his bloodied blade.
"Stand aside, Zura."
He swung down his arm. The blade cut through the ropes tying Hijikata to the post and in the process he sliced Hijikata's coat.
"Sorry about that." Gintoki mumbled.
Hijikata growled displeased. He massaged his bruised wrists and assessed the gash with deft fingers. A long cut had ripped his coat from neck to waist, deep enough to slice through his vest but not so brutal as to touch his skin. The White Demon's swordsmanship had been deliberate in its provocation. Hijikata's hands trembled and he clenched them into fists.
"We'll give you your freedom in exchange for information. I think that's a deal a spy like you can appreciate." Gintoki said.
"I'm not a spy," Hijikata snapped back stubbornly. He was slowly regaining the feeling in his legs and the twinging ache of his sore wound returned, "I thought I gave you enough proof of that."
"This?" Gintoki snatched the tattered textbook from Katsura's grasp and threw it into Hijikata's lap. Hijikata winced.
"Aliens have invaded Earth. Who's to say they can't make a decent counterfeit? Never underestimate the enemy, right Zura?"
Katsura looked at Gintoki disappointed, the flames of his bewilderment waning. Hijikata could see his own loss in Katsura's expression. He had wanted to believe him, badly. It warmed Hijikata's heart to see him fighting for the truth.
"Well, let us hear his message any way." Katsura said.
"No, first I want to know his name."
"If he is indeed from the future it would be bad if he revealed himself, Gintoki."
"I don't care."
"I'm someone you trust. In the future." Hijikata said.
Gintoki and Katsura were unimpressed with his enigmatic answer.
"Is that right?" Gintoki laughed, "Ok, if that's how you want it, I'm gonna call you Oogushi-kun."
Katsura rolled his eyes.
"What? I gotta call him something. Just 'Hey, you' doesn't cut it, does it?"
"Fine, whatever," Katsura muttered, crossing his arms, "Just let him speak. What if his message has something to do with Sensei?"
"It doesn't," Hijikata cut in, "I only brought that book so you would listen to me."
"Fair enough, we'll listen." Katsura replied.
Gintoki slumped on the ground in front of Hijikata, shoulders lax despite the animosity he had displayed. Hijikata couldn't figure him out nor the role he had chosen to play. The bad cop to Katsura's good cop? The White Demon? Hijikata had heard tales of him, fearless and unmatched in the battlefield, but nothing much about him outside it. Gintoki had never supplied the details and Hijikata had not pressured him into revealing them either. But he wondered now, peering into the White Demon's impenetrable gaze, if anything of the Gintoki he knew subsisted there. Future touching past. Hijikata noticed the dark circles under his eyes, so similar to the ones he had skimmed over with his lips.
"The bakufu has ordered a special squad of Planet Destroyers to crush the Joui rebellion and end the war," Hijikata said, "The weapons employed by these mercenaries can erase entire battalions, cities, countries, planets. Some say they are sorcerers, wiping armies with a single stroke. But the truth is they specialize in nanotech warfare. In the future, common folk call their nanotechnology the White Curse. The nanorobots take hold of a person's respiratory system, turn their hair white and in a month that person is dead."
Hijikata stopped for breath. Memories forced themselves in but he pushed them back. Gintoki and Katsura's stare bore into him.
"A quarter of the planet's population was afflicted. Many fled, and now there are no more ships, no more places to hide. And no cure."
"So you traveled back in time to stop the plague from happening?" Katsura asked.
"Yes," Hijikata replied, once again handing out the truth with a lie, "If possible."
"Why you?" Gintoki's question sounded like an accusation. Hijikata's heart fell to the bottom of his gut. Throat dry, he stood up, clenching his teeth, ignoring the pain.
"That's the least of your concerns. I've already told you all you need to know."
"And a single man is going to stop what the Jouishishi could not?"
"Never underestimate the enemy. Isn't that what you said?" Hijikata spat with satisfaction.
Gintoki's mouth curled into a smile. Hijikata's breath hitched.
"Yeah, I'm glad you said that." Gintoki's hand flew to the handle of his sword and he jammed the hilt into Hijikata's thigh right into his badly healed wound. Hijikata gasped and stumbled back against the tent's wooden pole. Gintoki held him in place as Katsura fetched new ropes and called the two men guarding the tent.
"We will consider your message. Meanwhile you're gonna stay here," Gintoki said, his breath inches from Hijikata's, "So you can get better acquainted with what your masters so desperately wants us to learn," he leaned closer, lips barely touching Hijikata's ear, "The illusion of freedom."
A week passed and neither Katsura nor Gintoki returned to see him. Hijikata's world was confined to the pasty colors of the prison tent and to the minuscules fangs of the hemp rope biting into his pale skin. One of the two guards posted outside would occasionally lift the tent flap and poke his head in to check on him but issuing no word of conversation. They had been forbidden to speak to him. Hijikata heard them talk in ushered tones, making fun of him, calling him a mad dog, a lunatic, asking each other what they would do if they could travel through time. Their incessant, meaningless talk infuriated Hijikata to no end.
He had managed to escape his wrist constraints twice but the guards's routine checks had caught him every time. Poorly nourished and thirsty half the time, Hijikata began to lose spirit, though his anger was ever present. Even though Gintoki had made it impossible for Hijikata to kill him, he would not let him do it himself. No way. He would stop him. He would persevere. It was a matter of time before the Planet Destroyers showed up. The camp would have to dismantle. The entire Joui army would have to march. And Hijikata would be free of the ropes. He would walk outside and feel the sun on his face. He would follow the White Demon to the battlefield and he would protect him.
However, a week without seeing Gintoki was too long. Long enough to summon Hijikata's worst fears. What if Gintoki had gotten to the White Demon first? What if all Hijikata was doing was rotting away in a cell?
No, it couldn't be. Not while Hijikata still had memories of him. Not while he failed to conjure the memory of their last encounter before the White Plague took over and the same questions rang inside his head, Why didn't I say anything? Why didn't I ask? Why didn't I notice? Why? Why? The shame of not remembering what they had last said to each other, the exact words, ate him from inside. Just like Mitsuba, only worse. Because from her Hijikata had distanced himself. Kept both their hearts safe. But to Gintoki he had given his freely, not accounting the risk. Trusting him too much not to treat it recklessly, even though reckless was all Gintoki was and Hijikata had loved him for it.
Gintoki sat at a small wooden bench in front of his tent washing rags. He had thought scrubbing the blood off them might scrub the red from his vision but so far the task had yielded no results.
Katsura had postponed all incursions after Gintoki had turned in his report a week before. Needless to say, Gintoki had nothing spectacular nor popular to tell. Just another account full of misery. The number of deaths had been too high, comrades and civilians alike, and Katsura had been able to witness it with his own eyes when the rest of Gintoki's squad arrived to the camp a day later with the wounded and the maimed. The camp had thus turned into a giant infirmary. Sleeping quarters had been adjusted to accommodate more sickbeds, straw mats most of them. Word had been sent to the village to bring the soldiers sage for burning so bad was the smell of blood and ointment inside the encampment's walls and clogged in the narrow gaps between the tents. Katsura had prohibited Gintoki to leave the camp in case they took a hit or the scouts detected suspicious activity in the villages nearby, but Gintoki slipped away for a drink down in the village when the comfort of his cot felt meek and the night too cold.
A commotion by the gates snapped Gintoki from his thoughts. He wrenched the excess water from the last rag floating in the basin at his feet and hung it next to the other rags draped across the string connecting his tent to Katsura's.
"Hey, is Takasugi back?" he asked a soldier sprinting by.
"Yeah, General Sakamoto as well!"
Gintoki waited for the man to disappear behind a tent before following suit. He took his time, steps unhurried, steadying himself for Takasugi's raving. Sakamoto's lame jokes Gintoki could abide, yet he was sure Zura would get to the short stump of brain-rot first and tell him all about Gintoki's blunders, not out of any sense of malice or revenge but out of pure concern for their cause and the state of their strategic plans. Hell was gonna break loose for Gintoki and if Zura told Takasugi about the mad dog in the prison tent then...
"Shit." Gintoki swerved left from the path leading to the camp's gates and made for the prison tent. He only noticed he had been running when he stopped by the two guards posted outside. They greeted him with a short nod and stood aside to let him through.
Gintoki, however, stood in front of the tent flap breathless.
"A-are you not going in?" one of the guards asked him.
The answer got stuck in Gintoki's throat. A slight breeze rustled the tent flap and he took a glimpse inside at the man sitting against the wooden pole, ropes wrapped tight around his chest. Water dripped down his jet black hair to his shoulders. An empty pail lay overturned by his feet.
"Why is he soaked?" Gintoki asked.
"He said he was thirsty."
The answer pulled Gintoki's red gaze away from the prisoner towards the guards. The eerie silence that ensued had the guards' knees trembling. They shuffled their feet to cover up their dismay.
"Shinsuke and the rest of the guys have returned. Why don't you go welcome them? I'll take care of this."
The guards rushed away without a word between them. Gintoki watched them go and turned once again to the mouth of the tent. He pushed the tent flap aside with two fingers, gaze lingering again on the apparently unconscious man. He still wore the same formal attire rendered with Gintoki's cut. He really had to be nuts. Few people had looked Gintoki in the eye with the same determination he had seen in that man's expression. He had not recoiled for a moment. He had shown no fear, only pain from an injury Gintoki had been too clever not to take advantage of.
I'm someone you trust. In the future.
Gintoki had tried to forget those words but they haunted him in his solitary moments, when he was too drained to relive his failures and regret all the bloodshed. The man's blue eyes, clear and piercing, had fixated on him like a hound's. He had uttered those words to Gintoki exclusively. How could Gintoki wipe them from his mind? Throughout that wretched week he had suffered recurring thoughts of his prisoner. Alone, deranged, fearless. So what if he had been telling the truth? Gintoki was sure he hadn't told them everything and he was sure too that Takasugi would soon see that he did.
"Gintoki?"
Gintoki's cheeks warmed with embarrassment. He shrugged aloud to drive the absurd feeling away and entered the tent.
"So we're chums now, uh?"
The man's hazy blue eyes focused on him as he approached.
"Oh, it's you."
"Damn. That's cruel, Oogushi-kun," the disappointment in his voice offended Gintoki, "I thought I heard you calling me. Strange to hear my name from the lips of a stranger."
Hijikata huffed, something close to laughter.
"How goes the illusion of freedom?"
"Cheap, vulgar," Hijikata replied, tilting his head sideways to flex his neck "I've gone through worse."
"How so? Bound to a post, ropes around your wrists, buckets of water thrown in your face, I don't even know what they have been feeding you. I complain about mushy rice, what about you?"
"I'm fine. This prison is better than being bound to duty."
"Is that what brought you here?"
"Yes."
"Why are you lying again?"
"How can you tell?"
"Caught ya'."
A red flush spread across the man's cheeks erasing Gintoki's snotty smile. He felt his pulse pick up and a wave of emotion wash over him. Sadness and elation echoed between the two of them and Gintoki knew then he could not let Takasugi kill this man.
"The rest of the Generals have come back today. You better spruce up your story."
"I don't need to. I've told you facts not a story."
"But not all of it," Gintoki said curtly, annoyed by the man's obstinance, "Don't you get it? They won't be as indulgent with you as me and Zura were. You're gonna be labelled a spy and Takasugi is gonna execute you."
"We'll see."
"You're a stubborn bastard."
The man's blue eyes found his.
"Trust me."
Katsura's head turned towards Gintoki the second he entered the war-tent, the largest in the camp, where Katsura and Takasugi spend most of their time studying maps and gathering and filtering intel. A large square table stood at the center of it.
"There you are, Gintoki," Katsura greeted him with urgency, his widened eyes reminded Gintoki of the day he had barged into his tent gushing about a man from the future, "He was right, all this time... he was right."
"Who?"
"The man you imprisoned." Takasugi answered.
Gintoki met his glare with a scowl of his own. So Zura had already ratted him out.
"The man from the future? I don't know, it seemed like a good addition to our party." Gintoki replied, teeth clenched. Takasugi stepped in his direction, one brow twitching dangerously.
"Our party? You dare make jokes after your utter failure last week? All you had to do was burn a storehouse, not invade a fucking noble estate!"
"I leave all the burnings to you, little fire-cracker."
"That's 'cause you enjoy acting like a common burglar, you piece of shit!"
"We're not exactly swimming in supplies here, shit-stump!"
"You-!"
Katsura cleared his throat and stepped between the two, holding them back with his arms.
"Shinsuke, listen. Gintoki made a bad decision, we know that. The camp is an open wound, there's no need to dig the knife deeper."
Takasugi scoffed, brushed Katsura's arm away and returned to the table at the center of the room. His eyes focused on the map stretched across the surface so he didn't have to meet Gintoki's gaze.
"Where is that man? You have to bring him here."
"What?"
"I admit his story is very original," Takasugi said, "You must have laughed as hard as Tatsuma when he heard it."
"Where is he by the way?" Gintoki wondered.
"He had to go lie down. Laughed so much he choked when I told him about our prisoner." Katsura told him.
"Oi, why did we allow him to join us again?"
"Money." Takasugi replied.
"He is good with money." Zura agreed.
"Fuck."
"Well, bring the prisoner here. I need to speak with him." Takasugi repeated.
Gintoki, however, didn't budge. His plan to save the man from the future had not gone beyond the first stage which had consisted in releasing the captive from his restraints, yet the man had shown no intention to escape. Whether he was still awaiting his fate in the tent, breathing that stale, rank air, Gintoki had no idea.
"I'll go fetch him." Katsura said.
Gintoki stood aside to let Katsura through the tent flap. The few minutes he shared in icy, stifled silence with Takasugi while Katsura went to get the prisoner had him in a cold sweat. He sighed in relief when he saw the man enter after Katsura. There was a slight limp in his walk.
"You the spy?" Takasugi's question met a drawn out eye-roll Gintoki would have laughed at if anxiety didn't have him by the balls.
"I'm not a spy." the man said. His fingers brushed the red bruises around his wrists and Gintoki caught Katsura's sharp look behind the man's back. He knew who had cut the ropes.
"Well, I don't care if you're a spy or if you come from the future. I want to know about those mercenaries you spoke of." Takasugi said.
"The Planet Destroyers?"
"Yes."
"Are they here?" the man's voice quivered.
"Not yet. But strange airships were seen in the south. We saw them too on our way back-"
A long arm wrapped itself around Gintoki's shoulders and Sakamoto's voice warmed the chilled atmosphere of the war room.
"Never seen anything quite like'em."
Takasugi nodded.
"Lotsa' folks on the roads walking with their backs bent. Carrying whatever they can bring with'em." Tatsuma said.
"There's no shortage of people fleeing the war." Katsura reasoned.
"No, Zura," Takasugi shook his head, "You and Gintoki should have seen it. Rows of families, entire villages on the run. They said hooded mercenaries wiped the region's rebel army in one day. Some people refused to bury their dead and others could not even recognize the bodies."
"Why?"
"They were all skin and bone and every single one of them had white hair."
Gintoki looked at the stranger among them. He saw his eyes widen with horror.
The fumes of burning sage clouded the night sky above the camp. Hijikata left the generals' tent after a long interrogation concerning the Planet Destroyers. Takasugi and Katsura had tackled him with a seemingly never-ending supply of pragmatic questions. How many ships did they have? Where was the battle going to occur? At what time? How many mercenaries were there? How did their nanotech weapons work? Who were they connected with in the bakufu? Hijikata tried to answer their questions to the best of his abilities, but his foray into the secrets of such a hush-mercenary group had found its limitations back in his own timeline, mainly because of the thousands of people dead, the crumbling communications network and the collapse of the Shinsengumi. Documents on the activities of the old Jouishishi had been scant before the White Plague, afterward they were almost impossible to find. Hijikata could thank his inconsolable grief the few files he had managed to get his hands on.
Bestowed with freedom, his sword, and the knowledge of the camp's march to war at dawn, Hijikata searched for a secluded way out of the camp. No soldier would let him leave without questioning one of the four generals and what Hijikata needed to do required secrecy. Fortunately, his time in capture had provided him the perfect getaway. According to the wagging tongues of his guards, there was a gap on the camp's wall guys used to slip out from when they needed what they called 'a break'. The snicker Hijikata had heard accompanying that word would have been reason enough for seppuku.
Enshrouded in darkness, Hijikata walked the camp's walls feeling the ramparts for a soft gust of air. He found it much sooner than he anticipated and after one last look over his shoulder he slipped outside into the shadows of the surrounding forest.
Without the sun to guide him or a watch on his wrist, he couldn't tell how long he half-walked, half-limped to the abandoned shack on the outskirts of the village where he had left the Time-Thief. The man in the suit. Exhaustion prevented him from drawing a smile at the stupid looking droid laying on the floor of the shack.
The place was old. A single room with two straw mats, a closet and a pile of wood by the door. A hole had been carved in the center of the room so a small fire pit could be lit. Hijikata's cold shivers stopped as the flames licked his outstretched fingers.
"Are you awake?"
"I am a machine, I cannot sleep. I can only be on or off."
"That answers it." Hijikata muttered gruff. He took off his coat and unbuttoned his vest cursing his sluggish arms.
"Have you found Shiroyasha?" the Time-Thief asked him.
"Yes. The Planet Destroyers are here too."
"What about Sakata Gintoki?"
"Haven't a clue," Hijikata mumbled, "Maybe he isn't even here yet. We jumped in time too early."
He threw his clothes into a pile beside him before pulling down his pants to look at his wound. The bandages were smeared with brown, dried blood. Hijikata scrunched his nose at the smell.
"Knowing my stepsister, Gintoki will arrive just at the exact time." the Time-Thief said. He got up from his static position on the ground and approached Hijikata to take a look at his wound. By command one gloved hand disappeared into his sleeve and reappeared with a strange mechanical configuration.
"Let me."
Hijikata unwrapped the bandages around his thigh and let the droid clean his wound.
"You say droids don't sleep, but they have stepsisters?"
"Yes, that is correct."
Hijikata sighed with relief as the Time-Thief sprayed his wound with antiseptic and the pain lifted.
"I would ask you if she is as dumb-looking as you but I've seen you both." Hijikata teased.
"You saw our blueprints but you didn't manage to take our helmets off."
"So?" Hijikata raised one brow and leaned back on his arms to watch the Time-Thief re-bandage his wound.
"I'm actually much more beautiful and sensual than her. I have lustrous blond hair, clear skin, a striking resemblance to the Yorozuya's-"
"I'm gonna cut you."
A rustling sound outside startled Hijikata. The Time-Thief drew back his mechanical hand and the gloved hand reappeared. Hijikata jumped to his feet, kicked a mound of ash and dirt into the fire but to his despair it wasn't enough to snuff out the light.
"Shut off, now!" Hijikata ordered. The Time-Thief nodded and returned to his previous spot on the ground, helmet-lens close shut.
Hijikata gripped his sword as the door creaked open. His thumb flicked the sword's hilt but then he saw Gintoki's figure, young, silvery, untouched by time. Shiroyasha.
"W-what are you doing here? Did you follow me?" the words escaped convoluted from his mouth.
"Yeah," Gintoki replied sincere, his gaze moved from Hijikata's face to his bare legs, "I wanted to see the time machine but I got to see something else instead…"
Hijikata looked down at his pale legs, the hem of his white shirt covered his underwear.
"Caught you at a bad time?" Gintoki teased closing the door behind him.
"Shut up, bastard. I was just cleaning my wound, no thanks to you."
A flush heated Hijikata's cheeks. He turned his back to Gintoki and crouched to relit the fire pit and banish the shivers running down his spine - from the night wind or something else he didn't know. He was glad the Time-Thief had shut down.
"Who is that?" Gintoki's question rang hollow inside the shack as he examined the limp body on the ground, "Why does he have a helmet on? Is he dead? Is he… is this it?" his answer found a courteous silence which was an answer on its own.
"You said I should trust you and you were right. About everything," Gintoki confessed, "Even Takasugi believed you. After you left the meeting I began to wonder if you were actually telling the truth about being from the future. I thought the only way to be sure was to find your time machine and then, guess what? You disappear the minute you're released. I knew that was my chance. I would finally know whether you're a spy or a fantasy."
Hijikata froze. His hands hovered by the fire. He could almost feel his skin burning.
"On my way here I started putting everything together," Gintoki continued, feet roaming the shack, leading him to Hijikata, "You were always very calm and composed, the perfect prisoner. No crying, no demands. Very unrattled for a guy who claims to come from the future. A guy who doesn't bat an eyelid at being captured by the generals of the Joui Rebelion. You know what some folks call us? The Four Heavenly Kings," Gintoki snorted, "Such a rubbish name, Zura would barely pass for court jester, and me…"
Gintoki's eyes found Hijikata's immersed into his, drinking his every word. Gintoki kneeled beside him.
"Who are you?"
"I already told you. I'm an ally." Hijikata said, turning his gaze towards the flames.
"No," Gintoki corrected him, "You said you were somebody I trust in the future."
"Yeah, that's right."
"But that's not everything," Gintoki insisted, voice low and grave. He sat down next to Hijikata and contemplated him from head to toe, "Do you think I don't notice how every time I get close your eyes go straight to my lips? How quickly you avert them when you think I caught you staring?"
He inched closer and Hijikata felt a warm hand on his waist.
"In the future, do I get this close?"
Hijikata's ears and hands burned. Fire consumed his whole body.
"Who are you, really? I must know." Gintoki's pleading tone wrenched out all the fight Hijikata had left.
It didn't matter that Gintoki knew his name. In a few hours nothing that transpired would matter. If Hijikata was successful and if the Planet Destroyers were defeated, Gintoki would never be infected, he would not die alone in the Terminal ruins, Hijikata would not nurse his grief, he would never need to travel to the past to protect Gintoki, and the one before him, sweet, uncouth Shiroyasha would never meet him. Time would realign itself and everything that had happened would be nothing but a dream.
"My name is Hijikata Toushirou. I came from the future to save you."
He grabbed the hand Gintoki had left on his waist and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of Gintoki's palm and released it back into the narrow space between them. Gintoki's mouth was open and his cheeks warm with color. He didn't speak for a while and Hijikata began to regret his stupid indulgence when Gintoki grabbed him by the shoulders.
"When do I meet you?"
It was not the question Hijikata had expected him to ask.
"About ten years from now."
"What?!" Gintoki scowled and lifted both hands to Hijikata's cheeks, "You're lying again!"
"I'm not lying! Look at you, you're just a kid!" Hijikata snapped and tugged Gintoki's hands away.
"I'm eighteen! Old enough to put your ass in jail!"
"You can hardly call that flimsy tent a jail." Hijikata sneered.
"Was good enough for you, old man!"
Hijikata pursed his lips.
"You only had me because I was exactly where I wanted to be, you fucking squirt!"
Hijikata's back met the shack's hard floor as Gintoki leapt on top of him, fists tight around his collar. His eyes shone bright red in the firelight and the silver strands of his hair shimmered alive, glowing. Hijikata was looking at hope itself. How could he allow it to be snuffed out?
"Zura said it would be bad if we knew who you were," Gintoki said, eyes filled with sorrow, "What if we never meet now?"
"Unlikely. You always show up like a sore spot."
Gintoki smiled.
"There's only a handful of people I would go back in time to save," he said, "But I can't wait to meet you."
Dawn brought dark clouds like bad omens. The rebel army marched to the barren plains of the battle. Hijikata followed the Joui Generals in silence, switching flanks, covering as much ground as possible, yet there was no sight of Gintoki except the one riding beside Katsura. The army stopped atop a ridge overlooking the plains. Airships hovered in the horizon across the flat expanse. The clouds hung gray and ominous behind them.
A drizzle of rain began to pour as the rebels dismounted and began preparing for battle. Over by the edge of the ridge the generals spoke among themselves, delegating tasks, going over the last details. Sakamoto left first to overview the distribution of weapons and machinery.
"The enemy has already sent troops to the ground." Katsura said observing the movements on the other side of the plains. Hundreds of small dots squirmed into place beneath the airships.
"We should hurry then," Takasugi urged, "The Kiheitai will take the left flank."
Katsura nodded.
"Don't forget to take Tatsuma with you."
"If only."
Takasugi smirked and disappeared amid the bustling crowd of soldiers.
"Gintoki, you know what to do. The charge is yours. See you on the battlefield."
Katsura squeezed Gintoki's shoulder and walked away.
"Do you always take the lead?" Hijikata asked him.
"When I'm feeling generous."
Hijikata chuckled.
"Hey, you showing up," Gintoki paused trying to find the words, "It was a terrible idea."
Something in his cadence hit Hijikata like a punch to the stomach. He turned his head to look Gintoki in the eye but Gintoki was already facing him, waiting for his reaction.
"Now I'll hurry to find you." Gintoki said.
Hijikata thought about the inescapable choice awaiting Gintoki, the loss of his master, the solitude, the looming nightmare. He thought of himself at that point in time, somewhere in the country following Kondo to a future he couldn't see yet, recruiting fools who didn't know any better, looking over his shoulder towards a girl who would never be his.
"That would be the fastest way to lose me." Hijikata replied.
"So I have you?"
Gintoki smiled and Hijikata smiled back.
A speck of silver glittered in the middle of the battlefield cutting their moment short. Hijikata could not believe his eyes.
"That idiot… what is he doing there by himself?!"
"Let's go save him."