a/n: Thank you for being so patient with me!

Gintoki found the key to the handcuffs lying next to his tub, and for a few, infuriating minutes, it'd been a struggle on how to unlock them while still being cuffed. After some careful maneuvering - one couldn't be a master swordsman without developing flexible wrist movements - the shackles mercifully unhinged. For a few seconds, all he could feel was relief - and then a twinge of annoyance at the group of people who had put him into this situation in the first place.

They all were being ridiculous. As if he cared what Tsukuyo did outside of whatever her usual activities in Yoshiwara.

If she wanted to find her own happiness outside of him, who was he to interfere with that? It wasn't as if they were in love, or a unit, or had any sort of a romantic connection together -

Kagura burst through the bathroom, interrupting his train of thought.

"Oi! What happened to knocking?" Gintoki snapped at her, wincing when she started washing her face in the bathroom sink. The squeaky faucet was starting to trigger a headache, and he wondered how much he could pay her to walk in the park while he slept off his hangover.

She grabbed a nearby washcloth, scrubbing her face dry, and then scrutinized Gintoki with suspicious eyes. "Gin-chan, you stink. Take a bath already."

"No I don't," he said automatically, before lifting his armpit to take a sniff. Fuck, he really did stink. But that didn't mean he was going to take a bath - not the least because Otae had told him to!

Kagura rolled her eyes, and started brushing her vermilion hair. As was expected with her daily morning routine, she then tied them up into buns. While doing so, she peered into the mirror, looking for any discrepancy, and finding none, admired her handiwork for a second before turning back to her guardian.

"If you don't take a bath, you're gonna end up like an old stinky man," she lectured him.

"I don't care," Gintoki grumbled, and tossed the handcuffs into the wastebasket. (Kagura did not notice.) It badly needed taking out, and he was about to go out anyway, maybe to find a bench at a park to sleep - or a nice spot next to the dump -

"I can do that," Kagura said. "I was gonna go out anyway, yes?"

Usually, they'd let it fill up until Shinpachi couldn't stand it anymore, but it was a bit earlier than the time that he normally arrived.

"Where are you going?"

"Um - " Now a hint of pink came across her cheeks. "None of your business. I've just got to do something, that's all."

Not that Gintoki was complaining or had anything to say to that, but he was ninety-five percent sure it probably had something to do with a sandy-haired police officer. He'd gotten enough of an earful from Hijikata over the phone about how much public property the two of them were destroying ever since she came back to Edo with Sadaharu. At this point they were both hoping that kissing was on the agenda, if only to curtail the trail of destruction that inevitably followed after their "meetups".

"Well, if you're going out, can you at least get some toilet paper?" he asked, trying to pretend he knew nothing. "We're running out."

"Fine," she said, still blushing.

She slammed the door behind him, causing his head to ring again. He cursed under his breath, but at least the house would be blissfully empty in a few minutes. And she'd forgotten to ask him for an allowance - another small mercy.

He then glared at the faucet.

Now, Gintoki, I expect you to take a shower before tomorrow, because god knows those establishments won't take an unwashed, hungover, and unemployed patron. This is high culture, after all. In any case, we need you to look fresh for an omiai.

"Who said I was going taking a bath?" he muttered out loud.

It didn't matter because then - with no thought whatsoever - his arm twisted the faucet anyway, rationalizing it with his desire to not get his futon dirty. He also decided not to notice the ticket and a hakama set made of the finest silk folded neatly on his desk, pretending nothing was different from the usual surroundings.

-x-

It was an obnoxiously beautiful day. Once he'd taken a nap after a quick bath, Gintoki was horrified to find himself constantly surrounded by couples.

It wasn't even close to Valentine's Day! And he barely lived in a good neighborhood as it was - Kabuki-chou was hardly the type of setting that could be construed as romantic. So why were there so many of them?

And they had to kiss. In public, and often! Did young people these days have any shame? When he was growing up, that sort of PDA was frowned upon. Not that he ever had an opportunity to flaunt around the hottest girl in public, because back in the day, they all seemed to gravitate towards Zura or god forbid - Takasugi - but still!

It was another sign that he was getting Old, and although he'd been cognizant of the time passing by, especially as of late, Gintoki didn't expect the universe to give him a big finger when it came to the relationship department.

Go on, he sneered. Rub it in my face, Kami-sama, that I've been alone for my entire life.

Which was categorically only true in the romantic department. He wouldn't say that he was lonely for friendship or companionship. He could step outside in Kabuki-chou at any time of the day and somehow find either an old pest or homeless person on the street to spend time with.

Either way, he didn't want complications!

So love... Just had been, and never would be, an option.

He was better off without her, he told himself firmly. Never mind that she had been brave enough, just that once, to tell him the truth. And because he couldn't - wouldn't - be honest with her, now he was facing yet another lifelong regret looming ahead of him, one more stone to lay in his graveyard of sins.

The look of despair in Tsukuyo's eyes the night she had confessed to him would haunt him for years to come. He had a natural intuition for this and had, of course, wanted to bury it under a blanket of alcohol and bad decisions. She was not the same as the other women in his past who had pursued him; there was an honest innocence to her that had always been endearing.

He didn't want to see her again - and yet, here he was.

His feet had arrived in front of the Edo Theatre without him being consciously aware of it.

It wasn't a building he had stepped into before - none of his clients had ever propositioned him for jobs in this kind of place. Already he felt horribly out of place at the entrance; it was an symphony hall and the ticket that had sat in his pocket had indicated it would be for some sort of opera - a type of entertainment he was sure he wouldn't care for.

"Ah, you must be Kyuubei-sama's guest," the receptionist greeted him crisply, her silk scarf tucked perfectly around her neck. Gintoki wondered if she could tell if he wasn't meant to be here; that he was a big phony in a crowd of all these upper-class folks. "They called me this afternoon and said that you would be attending today's performance. Your name is Sakata-san... correct?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"You'll be sitting in the box above the Fujiwaras," she said kindly. "Follow me."

-x-

Normally, when Gintoki was surrounded by opulence, his first instinct was to hoard it. He'd grown up with nothing and mostly subsisted on nothing. And so, whenever he had the chance to be surrounded by rich people and expensive things, he took advantage of the special circumstances.

But now, as someone bought him champagne on a platter, he could barely enjoy it. He was sitting at a private booth - and he was sure that this had all been a sick joke, a joke played by the girls - girls who didn't know a damn thing about love, because this was torture.

The concertmaster of the orchestra played a note, and then the clarinet followed; the ensemble was tuning themselves as Gintoki spotted a couple settling into the box underneath him where he could see them, but they couldn't spot him unless they turned their heads back and upwards. His stomach lurched uncomfortably as he realized who they were. The Courtesan of Death herself was sitting next to an aristocratic man, and they seemed deep in conversation.

"Fujiwara-san, I do appreciate you takin' me out on such an outing. Still, I've only attended traditional concerts in Yoshiwara, an' I'm afraid that I'm mos' uneducated when it comes to - "

"Oh no," the man's voice said warmly. Gintoki could see the back of his chonmage, gleaming in the dark. "There's a leaflet that'll explain the intricacies of what we'll be listening to tonight. I find that you don't need to know everything about music to enjoy it, myself."

Angrily, Gintoki snatched the leaftlet off his table, and tried to read it. But it was as useful to him as water pouring through his head - he couldn't concentrate on the words as the couple below continued to have a conversation within his earshot.

Tsukuyo was scanning through the leaflet, and Gintoki could almost imagine her squinting at it. "Oh, it ain't different from the classical plays in the kabuki theatre."

"Yes. It's quintessentially a love story at the core of it all."

Who the fuck uses the word quintessentially in a conversation? Gintoki thought angrily to himself. The man was a fool if he expected Tsukuyo to be some noble lady - she could barely hold her drink, acted as if she was a man most of the time, and settled matters with either a left-hook punch or the pointy toe of her boot.

The lighting dimmed, and a hush went over the audience as the opera began.

The story began with some sort of foreign diplomat, who fancied a geisha who was already secretly in love with someone else, a samurai. Although the diplomat was already engaged to someone else back home, it didn't stop him from giving 'kissing lessons' to the geisha, which had angered the eyes of some old aristocrat who was keeping an eye out on the foreign diplomat.

By the fifth song, Gintoki had realized the plot was as horribly stupid as most of the TV soaps Kagura liked to watch during the daytime whenever there weren't any jobs coming in. Once the Shogun - who was apparently interested in the geisha as well - delivered his monologue, Gintoki lifted his now empty glass of champagne, and had it promptly refilled a second later.

Fuck, is this really what rich people do for fun? he grumbled to himself, thinking that he'd rather be at a pachinko bar. Sure, he'd be losing a lot more money. But at least the booze was stronger and he wouldn't feel so uncomfortable sitting around in these formal, stiff clothes.

Someone coughed. He looked down, thinking that something more interesting was going on below him.

The glint of Tsukuyo's earrings had caught his eye, and a horrible clunk fell into his stomach as he remembered the reason why he was here.

Tsukuyo is going to get married soon if you don't shape up. Does that make it clear? Tae's voice, sweetly dangerous, echoed in his mind.

No, Gintoki rationalized to himself. Nobody, much less a daimyo, would bother marrying that drunk terminator. She was too violent, too honest, and too married to her job. A commoner could barely handle her. How could a nobleman possibly find anything attractive in her?

He drained his glass of champagne, and gestured rudely to the servant in his box to refill it. The golden bubbles were infuriatingly lighter in potency than a good flask of sake, more proof that rich people didn't know how to have fun in the right way. He wasn't even on his way to getting buzzed, dammit.

That man... was his name Fujiwara? Well, anyways, he'd clearly heard her accent before. If he didn't get the memo that he was cavorting with someone who was at the risk of being killed at any given time, that was his prerogative. Gintoki knew an idiot when he saw one, and anybody who couldn't figure out the Courtesan of Death was in a dangerous occupation probably was dropped on his head as a baby.

He leaned over, wondering if Tsukuyo was actually enjoying the play. She was, to his bewilderment.

There was a slight smile on her face, her head tilted towards the music, her eyes closed. A peaceful expression came across her countenance, making Gintoki wonder if she had yearned for something like this from him. Had she ever envisioned a time where he would take her out, like a true gentlemen?

Gintoki pressed his lips together. He'd realized that this opera - play - whatever it was, it had given her an opportunity to relax. It had given her a chance to get lost in the music after being overworked and strained for years on end, protecting the people of Yoshiwara without much compensation or breaks on end. No one ever thanked her for doing her job, even if she never expected as such in the first place. He doubted if others had made ever a space, intentionally, for her to exist outside of Yoshiwara, aside from the accidental alcoholic binge-fests on the surface and occasionally saving the goddamn world.

He gripped the handles of the seat.

How had he not realized this, knowing all the times he had purposefully aggravated her? He had selfishly wanted to see Tsukuyo flustered for his own enjoyment, to provoke her into calling him names like a child... How could he have ever known that she could be at peace, looking so calm and reserved like that?

I can't give her what he gives her, Gintoki thought. It reaffirmed his wish to not cause her any trouble, even if... even if he...

No, I won't say it.

The soprano suddenly broke out into a piercing aria, jolting him out of his reverie. He blinked rapidly, before realizing that the red curtains had dropped down onto the stage, the audience was clapping, and suddenly a few members were standing up.

It was time for intermission.

Needing to go to the bathroom, Gintoki was grateful when the assistant led him to the private bathroom that was strictly for booth owners.

He decided to wash his hands after he was done - a rare occurance, but hell, he was wearing nice clothes and he was sure there would be hell to pay if he didn't keep them clean. It was only when he dried his hands on a paper towel that he noticed that the man next to him at the sinks was looking at him curiously.

It was Fujiwara.

"I apologize if this is rude," the stranger said, his voice polished and clear. "But is your name... Sakata Gintoki, perchance?"

Taken aback, all Gintoki could do was to nod. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"One of my old childhood friends... well, he's dead now. But Shigeshige-kun used to talk about you sometimes. He said you had such bright silver hair, and I wondered if you were the person he was talking about."

Gintoki tossed his wadded up paper towel into the trash can, hoping that he wouldn't end up having to talk any longer to him than necessary.

"Yeah, that's me. Can't imagine you heard anything good about me, though."

"On the contrary, Sakata-san. He always spoke well of you. That stunt you pulled in Sadasada's palace was pretty legendary, if I say so myself."

Against his will, Gintoki's irritation with the man melted away. "Yeah. That guy was... evil. To say the least."

"Soyo-hime wasn't all that happy living under his shadow back when he controlled everything, to be honest," Fujiwara said candidly, his hands stowed into his pockets. "I think she's happier to be her own person now, even if she might have to give up her nobility status soon."

"Wait, why?"

"Politicians under public eye can't hold ancient tithes of lands under the new administration." Fujiwara looked somber at this point. "A lot of us old families used to be backed by Shigeshige. Then, over time..." Fujiwara shrugged. "Well, I don't mind modernity as it stands, but giving up property that's been in my family for years is something else."

Gintoki didn't really have much sympathy for him, considering that he'd never owned nor would ever own any property. And so, he tried to change the subject. "Who's your hot date, then? A noble chick or... ?"

"Oh no. Well, actually, Soyo-hime suggested her to go my omiai. Apparently she's never been on a proper date before, which is weird because she's incredible." A look of awe washed over him. "I think she'd be a good match for me and my family, actually. She's nicer than the other women I've met and - "

"Tsukki smokes like a chimney and she can't hold her drink worth a damn," Gintoki interrupted him. "She's probably taking a smoke break right now, because she never goes an hour without puffing that cursed kiseru. She could break your nose if you said something to upset her."

"Well - "

"She's a tsundere, too. So don't expect her to be straightforward with you. She's that kind woman who'll sue you if you poke her boob on the train. Repressed as hell, too. One time I accidentally flashed her when I was drunk as hell, and she shrieked to high heaven, as if she doesn't work in the goddamn light district. Shouldn't seeing someone's cock be like a game of cup and ball to the so-called Courtesan of Death?"

"Sir - "

"Y'know, I've been on the receiving end of her kunai so many times that I wouldn't be surprised if I had a concussion at this point. There's a bald patch on my scalp; that's where she keeps aiming and I swear she does it on purpose. Just because I may be a beast of a man, doesn't mean she needs to train me like one. She's just as coarse as I am; has she ever joked to you about nuru nuru lotion? Honestly, it's sick the way she pretends she's innocent when really she's just another woman of Yoshiwara. She's as pure as the driven slush, and I don't think you know what you're signing up for when you're taking her out. Really, you're getting a piss-poor impression of her on these first dates. You shouldn't be so naive. Just because -

"Sakata-san!"

An uncomfortable silence washed over the two of them, before Gintoki realized who he was talking to.

"Erm, sorry. I didn't mean to - "

There was a shocked pause, before Fujiwara straightened out his stance.

"I suppose you're the man she's desperately in love with, aren't you?" the nobleman asked, his voice noticeably colder than before. "If you asked me what part of Tsukuyo that I admired the most, it is her brutal honesty that she shared with me that has finally allowed me to court her without worrying about her past. Knowing how poorly you speak of her, I can't imagine that she's missing out on much."

He brushed past Gintoki, who suddenly felt ashamed of himself. The bathroom door clanged with a dull thud, and suddenly he was alone once more.

How had he stooped so low?

How had a stranger cut through the heart of the matter?

He'd lost. Whatever he was trying to do subconsciously - it wouldn't work.

It was clear now that Tsukuyo had told the daimyo the truth, knowing that it could have ruined her chances with him. But her integrity had prevailed, and it had unintentionally won the trust of someone who could afford to give her bigger and better things.

Now she was moving on. Obvious to everyone except for him, and possibly her deluded group of friends who tied him up yesterday, trying to get him to sabotage a golden opportunity for her.

In a way, he couldn't blame her for moving on. It was a notion of pragmatism that pained him deeper than he'd expected, but Tsukuyo was never one to live in a cloud of delusion. She calmly accepted things as they were; no stranger to living a life full of disappointments.

Ya think I don't know what kinda person you are? Of course I know yer a lone wolf, like me. I just got a bit lonely, that's all... Maybe I'm weaker than you, but that's not yer responsibility to take care of. I'm just another woman, after all...

In a foul mood, he came back to his seat. The lights dimmed once again as the program transitioned to its second act.

He could barely pay attention to the theatrics, and found himself leaning over his seat, as if possessed. He couldn't tell if Tsukuyo was still enjoying the show, or if her new beau was purposefully obscuring her from the view of others (like himself). The sight of Fujiwara's hand placed over hers nearly induced him into an apopletic rage.

Get your hands off my - Gintoki thought, and then he stopped the notion mid-sentence.

Tsukuyo wasn't anything but a friend to him at the moment. He wouldn't - couldn't - didn't - interfere. Not now. Not when he already blew his chance.

I need to leave, he thought.

He forced himself to calm down, a wartime mechanism he honed since he was a teenager. Shoving the unbridled rage into the corner of his mind, he took a deep breath, and stood up from his chair.

Fuck this. Fuck everyone, and fuck the horse that guy rode on. He'd leave and never come back.

None of this was his business in the first place. None of it!

If this person was who she'd chosen...

He'd have to respect that. And to interfere with it was inherently disrespectful to her.

Gintoki gestured to the assistant, who knelt down near him.

"I'd like to leave, please. Discreetly."

"Of course, sir. Right this way."

There was a less commonly used entrance in the back, although the stairwells in the auditorium at this point were empty. The assistant had given him directions and he ended up in the balcony outside, trying to calm down with some fresh air before writing off the entire day. He'd have to come up with an explanation to the girls soon - that he wasn't going to do anything about the situation, because it was clear that Tsukuyo had a path to happiness - and it didn't involve him.

He looked at the Edo skyline, the lights shining at night; his eyes were somewhat glazed. He was tired - and somehow, despite all his efforts trying not to feel it - he was somewhat... sad.

Whether it's spring or winter, once in a while I like being next to you like this and blowin' poison gas in your face. That's enough to make me happy.

In retrospect, he should have known that a woman could not stay in one place forever. They were inherently different than men - they had a need to be loved eventually, because their own capacity for love was far greater than a man's. Gintoki could not blame her for wanting more happiness than what he could give her. Sacchan had been far more ardent, and even she had moved on to someone more suitable once requited love had proved more appealing than her energy remaining unreciprocated.

But there was something poetic about it when Tsukuyo had blown smoke in his face all those years ago. He'd been touched. A simple confession that standing next to him and needing nothing more could make her happy - it was a statement that he had taken for granted; that things would remain the same.

Clearly it wasn't enough anymore.

Lost in his thoughts, Gintoki only registered the sound few steps behind him before he realized that someone was on the balcony, too.

"Gintoki? What are you doing here?"

He turned around, and almost cursed as he saw it was the subject of his musings.

The Courtesan of Death. Tsukuyo. Tsukki.

Her.

She looked more beautiful than usual, it was a rare sight to see her in anything but her usual work kimono. He noticed, too, that she had powdered her face subtly so that her scar looked less prominent, and to his amazement, she'd even put on some mascara and lipstick on. Years ago, he couldn't have imagined someone like her being comfortable with such an overt display of femininity, but today she'd played it up.

"I was... " His mind whirled. Clearly he should have anticipated this happening, but he'd been too far up his own ass to adequately prepare for it.

Gintoki cleared his throat. Lying to her, like he lied to himself. "I was, uh, doing a job for a client. They wanted me to escort them here."

"I see." Her eyes softened. Her slim fingers were holding her kiseru, grasping it tightly in her surprise. "Are the kids here?"

"Nah... this place is too sophisticated for 'em. They wouldn't know how to behave."

Tsukuyo laughed. A moment later, she clicked the lighter, and lit up her pipe in the pause between their conversation, inhaling deeply. Aware that he was looking at her, she turned her head away to exhale so that the smoke wouldn't get in his face.

She didn't smoke the DJ Kaoris anymore.

"You look nice," she said, when the night breeze blew the vapors away. There was some awkwardness in the air, and they both felt it. Still, there was social impetus for him to trudge on - to finally tie up loose ends.

"Thanks," he said quietly. "So... I saw your date."

"Oh!" She looked flustered. "Well... ya see... "

He patiently waited for her to finish her sentence.

"It's just for fun, really." Tsukuyo took another puff of her kiseru, and tilted her face away again to exhale; he couldn't detect her expression. There was a loaded silence between them, filled with unspoken meaning - but at the moment it seemed wholly impenetrable; a barricade that could not be breached from the other side.

"Are you having fun?"

She blew out smoke, placing some thought into the question. "It's interestin', I'd say. What did ya think of the show?"

"Kind of boring."

A shaky laugh. "Yeah. That's kinda why I'm out here too. Needed another smoke break."

"You stopped smoking those DJ Kaoris, huh? I can't smell that sickly scent anymore."

"They don't make 'em anymore. After Edo was destroyed, they went outta business."

"Right... " It was another reminder of how much he'd missed since he'd left Edo. Hadn't her feelings remained unshaken in his absence? If so, how could she so easily move on without him? Was her stoic pragmatism destined to take her away from his proximity?

"Gintoki." There was a calm look in her eyes as she took another smoke, gesturing with the other hand towards the grand auditorium. "You don't like this sorta pretentiousness, do ya? So tell me why you're really here."

It was the second conversation they weren't arguing with each other, with none of the playful banter that usually made up their encounters. Gintoki didn't have enough time to come up with any other lies, especially with the weight of his guilt upon him. He could only tell a half-truth at best.

"I wanted to see if he was a good man. Is he, Tsukki?"

"It takes time to know, but so far... I think so."

"You'll be caged if it goes any further. I know his type. He'll be the sort of man to ask you to stop working, because his friends won't look too fondly on a woman working in Yoshiwara. And then, once you're married, you'll be trapped in his prison of tradition and upper-class ideals - "

"Gintoki."

"What?"

"Do you honestly think I'd be here, if it weren't for you?" she said, turning pale. For the first time in his life, he saw her lip tremble.

His heart cracked.

The consequences of running away had finally manifested in full force, and nothing else shook his composure more than to see a woman - as strong and brave as she was - to crumble in the face of such vulnerability and hurt.

He'd seen her, battered and beaten once under the moonlight. But her indigo eyes had never conveyed the amount of pain towards him, had never attributed him as the cause of her anguish.

This was why he had never wanted to be more than friends with anyone, had never broached the subject or made any moves on a woman who had the faintest chance of reciprocating. He couldn't bear to be the source of a woman's unhappiness, far more comfortable to let things remain ambiguous forever.

He opened his mouth, but Tsukuyo cut him off. "I've told you once before and I'll tell ya again. When I'm with you, my resolve weakens. I wish to remain your equal. So please, Gintoki. Let me be. Don't pretend to care for me in this way. I knew a long time ago what sort of man you were. And I'm sorry that I burdened ya with my feelings. I wish I could take 'em back, but I can't now. Even so, it's more of a curse for me to carry, knowin'... knowin' all these things about you, and wantin' more than what you could give me."

"Tsukuyo... "

She put away her kiseru, her eyes lowered. "I have to go. Before he wonders where I am."

An epiphany had struck him, and he realized that his time was up. If he chose to remain where he was now, she would be lost to him permanently one day. It wouldn't be today, or tomorrow, or the next year. But eventually she would distance herself if she decided to get married, and her affection for Gintoki would morph into a shadowy memory, repressed out of her innate desire to be a respectable woman.

"No, don't... " Don't what?

The words were stuck in his throat, begging to come out. Fear suddenly seized him, and as her eyes widened, he blurted out the beginnings of truth.

His truth. The one he'd been holding back to himself all this time.

"Don't go back. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry."

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- tbc

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