a/n: Aaand the real story begins! Time skip has happened! Pain awaits!


Chapter 1: Petal on the Ground


Stillness:

the sound of petals

drifting down softly together...

―Miura Chora (1729-1780)


The roar of a thousand fighting men could be heard throughout the battlefield. Together, they looked like a mass of gray devouring the world. In their midst, however, was a white figure breaking apart the enemy formation with unimaginable strength. His silvery hair glinted under the light of the moon, his speed frightening. He struck each enemy dead with a single strike.

He was the lead in this deadly sword dance, masterful in his footwork, scaring off his enemies from joining in. Those who saw him in battle called him one thing: Shiroyasha - a white demon, a name fitting for the silver menace.

For years, he would appear in battles brought by the war sweeping across Japan. Tales of his strength transformed him into a legend. Those who were skeptical ceased doubting the moment that they came face to face with the demon himself.

By daybreak, he was the only one standing on the corpse-laden battlefield. His white yukata was red and thick from the blood of those he killed, his sword chipped beyond use.

Dropping his sword, he closed his eyes and faced the sky. His entire body ached, yet his mind felt light. In his nose was the heady scent of lilacs and peas - the smell of spring and something he could not put a name on…

From afar, people were crying out that the war was over. Their battle against the Amanto, the one that united all of Japan's warring states against a common enemy, has been won at last.

What Gintoki Sakata wanted was to simply rest and come home to his wife.


Behind the dense cover of trees, a pair of gray eyes were curiously watching a small dwelling in the middle of the forest. It was familiar to her but she didn't belong there. To that house, she was an uninvited guest: unwanted, unknown, and unseen.

She could feel the presence of someone inside, but it wasn't who she was looking for. This presence belonged to the woman she disdained. It always accompanied Gin-san's. It was so intertwined with his, like the sweet scent of rotten fruit blending with the fresh summer air.

For years, Ayame had been forcing herself to accept that Gin-san was already married. His decision to settle down with another woman painfully reminded her that loving a human being only brought heartbreak.

Still, no matter how much she tried, she couldn't forget Gin-san. Deciding to endure the pain, she paid him visits - secretly, of course by remaining in her spirit form - whenever her desperate heart would yearn to see him so much that it ached.

But now, he's nowhere to be seen nor felt. She was worried that he had been gone for so long. She had the inkling that perhaps Gin-san returned to the war from far away. Either that, or something very tragic had happened to him in the shelter of his home.

Ayame did not like the thought of the last one. Gin-san was a strong and healthy man. That's why he was often called to fight. Nevertheless, her heart, deprived of relief by his lack of presence, had managed to convince her to at least make sure.

She emerged from the trees to check his house.

She had only been inside that one other time. A nagging fear of seeing him so happy with his wife and the fact that Gin-san told her to go away restricted her from setting foot anywhere near their home.

Her body slipped through the entrance door – a perk of being in her spirit form.

The room that she stepped in was the main room.

In the middle was a sunken, fireless hearth. A forgotten clay pot with a misaligned lid idly suspended over it. Around the hearth were two zabuton or sitting pillows. Dust seemed to have collected on them.

The entire room was awash with dreary, sepia tones by the late autumn sunlight filtering through the shoji door.

No Gin-san in sight.

Ayame turned towards the room to her right. It was partitioned by opaque sliding doors. The presence of Gin-san's wife was coming from inside. She didn't hope to see Gin-san there either. If she did, then that would mean he'd gone.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her heart and walked inside.

As soon as she stepped in, she noticed the foul smell of mold and something else entirely ominous hanging in the air.

The room was smaller, dim, and silent. The shoji panels directly across her may be leading into the small garden outside, but Ayame couldn't tell for sure because they were closed shut. She felt like she stepped into another place - a lonely, forgotten corner of the world.

Her gaze traveled towards the corner where a figure was buried under the sheets. Pale yellow hair strands were peeking out from the sheets, but the whole body of the person remained hidden under the blanket.

Gin-san's wife.

Perhaps the smell was coming from her.

'Is she dead?'

Ayame shook off the thought. The presence was faint but it was still there.

A rustling from the pile of blankets. Then, a weak, "Gintoki?" from the woman.

The wife had pulled down her blanket, exposing her face. Contrary to what Ayame remembered, she looked emaciated. Her cheeks were hollow and her purple irises looked dull. She looked like she had aged several years.

How long was Gin-san gone? Ayame could not say for sure. Because spirits and humans perceive time differently, Ayame is prone to committing mistakes when estimating how far along human time has progressed.

The wife, who Ayame vaguely recalled as Tsukuyo, looked in her direction. But her empty gaze gave nothing out. And, after a brief while, they saddened. Her husband Gintoki wasn't home yet.

She was just about to pull up her blanket again when she coughed.

Specks of blood went onto the blanket.

Ayame stood there, shocked.

It took her a few moments to come to her senses.

Gin-san's wife did not age, but she was terribly sick.

Ayame quickly ran to her side, placing her palms on her thin body. She tried to focus on healing her. She did this with Gin-san before, no reason it wouldn't work now. But the woman started coughing again, blood spreading on the pristine sheets and around her mouth.

The lilac-haired spirit began to panic.

'Why isn't it working?!' Ayame couldn't understand. The extent of her healing ability seemed to have reached their limit.

The wife's eyes began to close.

'If you die now, Gin-san will be so heartbroken,' she thought. And she has seen enough of Gin-san's happiness with her to know that he will be inconsolable if he learns of her death.

"You can't just leave him alone after stealing his heart like that!" Ayame yelled frantically despite knowing that this woman – Tsukuyo – couldn't hear her. She tried harder to heal her to the point that she got lightheaded.

She looked at the wife to see if this worked. But what Ayame saw only broke her heart.

Her eyes had fully closed. She was no more.

Ayame felt the big shift in the atmosphere.

She now fully understood where the ominous smell was coming from. It was death waiting on the corners of this gloomy room, and Ayame could not do anything to save the poor woman from it.

Tears threatened to escape but the shock stifled it all back.

'I'm sorry, Gin-san…I couldn't save her.'

She felt useless, miserable. Gin-san would blame her for not being able to help. But she understood why. He loved his wife dearly. He'd give the world for her. His heart did not have any space left for Ayame because he'd given it all to his wife. After all, what was her worth anyway? At the end of the day, she was just a tree spirit that can transform into a human in very limited time. Without that ability, Gin-san will never be able to see her, touch her, or hear her. Spirits and humans were never meant to be together.

Gin-san also made sure to let her know he wasn't interested in her. That was one of the most painful moments of her life. Nonetheless, his happiness is still her happiness. The inverse of which was true - that Gin-san's sorrow is her sorrow. If his heart breaks so will hers. He will arrive home expecting Tsukuyo to greet him at the door only to find her dead.

That will utterly, completely destroy him.

That's why Ayame couldn't let Gin-san know about this. He needed his wife to return home to.

She froze and had a thought.

What if she took her place?

She quickly shook off that idea. It was impossible. Gin-san will never accept her…

"Unless…unless I take on her form," Ayame thought out loud.

It was the most outrageous thing she ever thought of. But in the end, it was for Gin-san's happiness, wasn't it?

Ayame gazed at the dead body in front of her.

"I'm not going to pretend to be you for long. I'll fake your death in front of Gin-san. This way, he'll be able to deal with your death. He won't blame himself for not being there for you when you were suffering," Ayame said. This was the best she could do for Gin-san.

But how will she be able to do that? Turning human was already hard enough – how much more if she takes on the appearance of another?

Do yosei even have such a power?

A very familiar voice began to reach into her consciousness.

It was the second time it ever communicated with her.

And when Ayame finally heard everything it had to say, she was in awe.

'I can do it…I can finally become Gin-san's wife.'


a/n: Dun-dun-dun-duuuun. Writing this chapter was so mentally painful. I was doing my best to convey Ayame's reaction and emotions after Gin-san's beloved wife, Tsukuyo, dies in front of her. Oh! and also, the opening with the glorious Shiroyasha. I needed to give his awesomeness justice. As always, kudos, reviews are my bread and butter. Please leave them if you can!