I bare my neck to the unsheathed sword
And its blow is but a breath of wind…
—Suketomo (1290-1332)
The morning's prior events had already sucked the life out of Gintoki's eyes. That moment, they were a tumultuous pair of red holes, their depth abyssal. They bore straight into the poor woman in front of them, trying to rip her soul apart and check what's inside.
Without any sign of faltering, he kept the blade of his sword upon her bare, thin neck. He sharpened it before leaving Edo. He was keeping a few millimeters between it and her flesh.
"Tell me, do you know anything about what the hell they're talking about?" he asked.
The rain continued to pour. Gintoki wondered if it had gotten even colder. It was starting to get to him. Nonetheless, his hand – trained and skilled – kept the sword steady.
It was the complete opposite of Ayame's entirety. The weight of her actions began to sink on her. It was not how she imagined things would become…That Gin-san would find out and she would lose her ability to become a spirit.
And she was frightened. Looking at Gin-san right now was like staring at the face of death. She knew he wouldn't hesitate to slice off her head. But despite the fear on her chest, she unsurprisingly understood. If she told him the truth, he wouldn't believe her. Even if he did, then that would mean that he will blame himself for what happened to his wife. She would never let that happen.
Ayame came to a decision and found no fiber in herself that wanted to change his mind.
Her quivering lips slowly formed into a bittersweet smile. Gintoki was quick to find it menacing.
"They're telling the truth, Gin-san," she uttered with a sad smile on her lips. She looked down on the ground, breathed, and looked back at him again. "I killed your wife," she finished.
She waited for the sword to finish her off. That will be Gin-san's only proper response to her foolish act of love, the price of her deception. He was not particularly kind to her. Nothing will ever change.
But he stood there staring at her, his eyes wide yet hollow. They were trying to suck her into their dark depths. He was also frozen in his spot, and Ayame noticed the sudden paleness on his face.
"Where is Tsukuyo?" he asked slowly.
Ayame dumbfoundedly blinked away the tears that had started to spill from her eyes. Didn't Gin-san hear her?
"Oi…Where is my wife?" he repeated.
And she stared at him, stupefied. With the lost and crazed look in his eyes, she realized that perhaps Gin-san was losing his sanity. There was only so much grief that a human being could take in a day.
She shook her head. This was better than him hating himself forever.
"She's gone. She's never coming back."
This seemed to anger him. He finally closed the gap between his sword and her skin, drawing blood without so much an effort. Ayame winced at the pain.
"Stop lying to me!" he screamed. His sword began to rattle. "She was with me earlier, you know? She was– she was– she was in my arms. I don't remember what happened after that…But– But I remember her bringing me home these sansai. She did that all for me even if she didn't like going out into the forest alone. She's always selfless like that. And she looked so beautiful that morning. She was…How can you…how can you say that was you?! "
She looked down at the ground. Her heart began to crack painfully at the sound of his maddened rambling.
"That was all me, Gin-san," she insisted, tears flowing down her cheeks. "It might be hard to believe. But those kids are telling the truth. I killed her. I wanted to be her. I'm not human, Gin-san. I'm–"
"A witch," Gintoki uttered. Ayame looked at him and found that his eyes had focused on something on her face. He had the look of pure dread.
"Oi…where did the wound on your face go?"
Ayame then realized that the stinging on her cheek was gone. She brought a hand up her cheek and felt its smoothness. 'So I get to keep the ability to heal myself,' she wryly told herself. She was still a supernatural being after all, but only with a physical form. She wanted to laugh at everything.
'Good for me then. This makes it easier to convince him.'
She chuckled softly, her hand dropping limply on her side. Maybe she, too, was losing her sanity. After she was finished, she looked him straight in the eye.
"I told you, didn't I? I am not human. You're right. I'm a witch."
Gintoki lunged at her and pinned her on the ground like a rabid animal, knocking out her breath. He held his sword at her throat, his knees crushing her legs. Meanwhile, the Yorozuya exclaimed his name and rushed to his aide. But he was quick to respond.
"Back off!" he ordered, immediately stopping the two. Without taking his eyes off Ayame, he pushed the edge of his blade on her flesh. The cut he inflicted earlier was already gone and he was more than eager to give her a new one. Blood freely flowed out as the rain swept it away.
He desperately tried to read her eyes. He couldn't believe her words. This wasn't how he remembered her. But her eyes were an impenetrable gray just like the sky above them. He couldn't see the colors he wanted. In fact, he swore he saw a glint of sadness pass through them, confounding him even more.
"How did it feel when you killed Tsukuyo? You must be so happy that you got what you wanted."
She only looked at him in silence. He angrily clenched his fist on her shoulder.
"Answer me!" he demanded.
The wound had begun to close on her neck, much to his disbelief. And then, the familiar scent of peas and lilacs began to invade his nose. It was so subtle because the smell of rain and mud had almost drowned it out, but he knew it by heart.
It reminded him of the afternoons he spent training under the wisteria tree. He was younger then, naìve and weak–but Ayame was with him as he made himself stronger. And as if she were the tree itself, she always carried the very same scent. Like a springtime fragrance, the scent would be strongest whenever she would treat his injuries from his carelessness.
'How can someone like you do something like that?!' he thought painfully. He couldn't believe he was just looking for her to save Tsukuyo. Was that even Tsukuyo?
His memories were a blur. Suddenly, it was Tsukuyo who was beside him and tending to his injuries. He could now remember the smell of her smoke, and the strong fragrance of her perfume. Did she really die?
Gintoki, to his surprise, had been unable to form a rational decision. His mind was a jumbled, racing mess and he couldn't decide if the woman below him was telling the truth. 'Is any of this even real?' he mused. The nighttime terrors that often plagued him seemed to have come to life.
The cold was severe now. His arms were shivering and he was starting to feel faint.
'Shit,' he thought, 'I have been under the rain for too long.'
He collapsed on Ayame, his sword clanking beside him. His vision was blacking out.
"Gin-san!" he heard her cry.
And there it was again– her lovely scent. And the warm feeling emitting from her hand to his body. He finally knew why she was the only one who could rid him of his physical afflictions, why his wounds healed much quicker. All these years, he never realized that she wasn't human.
"Don't…use your witchcraft on me…" he protested.
Suddenly, he heard the neigh of horses and the cries of the townspeople. An enemy attack? Gintoki tried to stand up but his limbs felt too weak.
He then got forcefully pulled away and thrown in a wagon, the warmth dissipating from Ayame's hands immediately. She too was taken by a bunch of men and Amanto.
'Don't take her. I will be the one to kill her,' he thought. But even his mouth couldn't form the words.
He got too careless and ignored the symptoms of hypothermia.
Kagura and Shinpachi were busy fighting against the mob before they realized he'd been taken by the enemy. Ayame, on the other hand, was dumped beside him, hands tied behind her back. Her cold fingers were barely touching his.
Gintoki's consciousness began to slip away. He tried to fight it back knowing that if he fell asleep he would die. But sleep was cunning and crept on him before he knew.
He really should have died that time. The power emanating from Ayame's hands was the only thing that kept him from the clutches of death. But as he rapidly succumbed to sleep, all he could think of was that the hands healing him now were the very same ones that took away Tsukuyo's life.
a/n: Every chapter is getting more and more painful to write. I did my best to strike a balance between writing about Gintoki and Ayame's emotions in the most realistic way. They are both suffering a tragedy. Gintoki just lost his wife and he is yet to process his grief. He's pushing himself beyond his limits because of that. Ayame is trying to protect him the way she knows but ends up getting hurt in the process. I often don't voice my opinion on my own chapter but I can't help it this time. Thoughts? I'd love to hear them below.
Thanks for reading! Story favs and reviews make me extremely happy. See you in the next chap!
