Heaven Knows Everyone Is Miserable Now

Chapter 5: The Shrine

Gintoki was the last to wake. His watch had overseen the beginning of dawn and by the time he had left the small room assigned for sleeping, the sun was right above his head, vanishing occasionally behind a passing cloud. Grogginess still clung to his body. His natural half-lidded eyes opened just a slit to adjust to the light. He stretched slowly, feeling his back crack and pop along the spine. Kagura's timid sobs, however, jolted him wide awake and he navigated the outer corridors of the shrine to the main room where he found her crying next to Zenzou.

"What's wrong?" his voice was raspy from sleep but alert.

Zenzou chuckled in reply. Gintoki saw him out the corner of his eye, leaning back on his elbows and watching Kagura with mirth.

"This soup is so good…" Kagura sniffed, hands cupping a small bowl, "The tears just won't stop coming."

Gintoki glanced at the hot pot in front of her covered by a lid and wrapped around a bundle of rags to preserve the heat. He breathed a sigh of relief and kneeled on the seat across from her.

"Oi, oi, you'd think this was Sapporo Ichiban." he wheezed, massaging the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry I scawed you, Ginchw-"

"Don't eat with your mouth full, glutton. I wasn't scared!"

"You were." Zenzou noted.

"As if. I'd have heard the crawlers first." Gintoki replied snappishly. He picked up the empty bowl that was left for him and opened the lid of the pot. A sweet and salty aroma hit his senses at once. His empty stomach growled and, damn Kagura, he could feel his eyes and mouth water too.

"Is… is this…" he trailed away unable to finish.

"Yes, miso soup. With real miso paste." Zenzou said, smiling at the two crying fools, "It keeps."

"I'll serve you, Gin-chan!" Kagura exclaimed.

Gintoki nudged the bowl her way and nodded fiercely, hiding his tears.

"Thank you so much, Kagura. You're such a good kid. Your mom would be real' proud."

"She would, wouldn't she? I still remember the miso soup she used to make us."

"With the potatoes and carrots?"

"Yeah…" Kagura whimpered.

"She used to give me a thermos with it when I… when I…"

"When she found you drunk off your ass in the middle of the street. Right next to the pachinko place that had the candy machine by the door."

"Wow," Gintoki slurped his soup, eyes closed with both pleasure and pain and he almost shed a tear as the pungent flavor overwhelmed his taste buds, "Your memory is amazing, Kagura-chan. You must have been what, four?"

"Six."

"So you guys know each other from before too, uh?" Zenzou gathered. His bangs hid his gaze but not the teasing smile on his lips.

Gintoki took another sip of his soup. He shrugged his shoulders unable to answer. He didn't know if their memories from before were a curse or a blessing anymore. Kagura answered for him.

"Unfortunately." she said.

Zenzou grinned.

"I'd say you're pretty lucky."

The sky had not regained its clear blue for the past three days. The air was as heavy and charged as the day they had arrived. A faint drizzle of rain was always about to break. Gintoki could feel it on his skin before it started to fall and that day was no exception. Zenzou's bout of coughing had brought the lighthearted breakfast scene to a premature close and Gintoki soon left to call Sarutobi, silver curls frizzing the second he stepped outside.

It was getting harder to ignore Zenzou's condition. Despite Sarutobi's relentless care, the wound left by the improvised leg amputation was not healing properly. It oozed more and more fetid liquid each time Sarutobi changed his bandages and the flesh around it had darkened. Gangrene had set in. A deadly omen. Gintoki had averted his eyes from it the last time he had been in the room while Sarutobi had tried to treat it, to ease Zenzou's pain. Their performative fights now bordered the frantic. They exchanged curses and accusations. Real emotions went unchecked yet neither spent enough time alone to mule over their arguments. Definitely not Zenzou. Without voicing it aloud, everyone seemed to have acknowledged the fact that Zenzou could not be left alone. Thus, their days consisted of rotating shifts at three different tasks with little time for rest in between: watch, meal prep - mostly cutting rations since the forest around the shrine and the nearest roads had been depleted to nothing - and Zenzou care.

Gintoki found Sarutobi chopping wood beside one of the farm houses out back. Legs spread shoulder-width, she drove the axe down mercilessly through a thick piece of wood and split it in two. By her posture alone Gintoki could tell she had practice, but not enough to hide the frustration imbued in every swing.

"Oi, he's having a fit again." Gintoki said.

He had caught her unaware. Sarutobi flinched and her foot slipped, shifting her aim. The axe met the chopping block with a thud. She took a deep breath to compose herself and spoke.

"I'll go." She pushed her glasses up her nose and walked past Gintoki without meeting his eye.

"Want me to finish this?" he asked.

"Yes, I need enough to boil water." she replied over her shoulder.

Gintoki looked at the pile she had chopped so far. It was enough for all of them to take turns at the old iron bath, the one with the wood-burning stove built in and kept inside one of the farm houses, a relic from a national history growing fainter by the day. Gintoki grabbed the axe and went looking for Shinpachi.

He found him pacing back and forth behind the double doors of the shrine's main gate, brows furrowed and gripping his hatchet. When he saw Gintoki approach he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gin-san!"

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Shinpachi shook his head.

"Nothing really, but…" he pushed open the wicket door, the small door built into the left door of the gate, and looked at the winding path down the hill with the silhouettes of the sacred stone statues guarding the way among the thick vegetation, "Hijikata-san went down to the creek a while ago and hasn't returned yet. He said something must have gotten caught in one of Sarutobi-san's traps."

Gintoki clicked his tongue in annoyance before he could check himself.

"Perfect timing as always," he groaned, "I'll go get him. The sick guy isn't doing so well."

"Hattori-san?"

"Yeah, Kagura and Kinky-Glasses are with him."

"Don't take too long."

"Don't take any chances."

Shinpachi nodded.

Gintoki went down the path. He thought about the last time he had talked to Hijikata and he couldn't remember it. For the past three days they had traded glances. Simple ones that said Hello, Later, I'll do it, or Stay back. Curt nods of understanding. Yet he could remember a particular feeling. The one he had felt the morning after Soyo's burial.

Kagura and Shinpachi had stood by the freshly dug grave pensive, the curve of their shoulders indicating a thorough disbelief. Hijikata had been nowhere to be seen at the time, but Gintoki could tell by the stunned looks on the kids' faces that they knew, to some degree, what had happened. Hijikata had beaten him to the punch. All that was left to do was fill in the details. The worst part.

Kagura's first question had nearly broken his spirit.

"How old was she?"

Speaking in numbers had felt too cruel. Plus, Gintoki couldn't remember the girl's exact age. He was sure Zenzou or Sarutobi had mentioned it at some point and, if Hijikata had remembered it, which Gintoki doubted, he had chosen not to reveal it. Maybe that was for the best. Calling the dead girl a kid was bad enough. Kagura and Shinpachi were kids. It could be them under the ground someday. It had almost been Kagura twenty-four hours before.

"Young." Gintoki had replied.

"They kept her in a barn?"

"Sanctuary."

Over their heads Gintoki saw the small building with its double doors open, welcoming the sunlight. A shadow moved back and forth inside it.

"We asked Sarutobi-san if she wanted help cleaning the place but she turned us away." Shinpachi said.

"Yeah, you should give her some space."

They retreated from Soyo's grave shortly after that and walked together to the shrine's entrance. They stopped at the steps to the main hall, far from any sight of the sanctuary. Kagura and Shinpachi went up to pray and Gintoki stayed behind, glancing at the spot where he had boldly held Hijikata's hand the previous night. A heavy weight had sunk to the bottom of his chest.

It was the same feeling he felt now.

He advanced slowly and quietly, listening for any unusual sound. He heard none. No scuffle, no movement. Whatever it was, creeper or animal, Hijikata had taken care of it. Gintoki began exhaling a sigh of relief when the sound of running water reached him and he brushed aside a heavy tree bough. There, perhaps twenty feet away from the place Sarutobi had ambushed Kagura four days ago, lay Hijikata's body. Half his face was sunk under a shallow stream of water and his limbs had fallen to his side in an unsettling position as if he had tumbled head first into the ground, except he was Hijikata, the last person on Earth Gintoki expected to fall into a trap, one of Sarutobi's no less. It was ridiculous. For a couple of seconds nothing short of absolute shock kept Gintoki rooted to his spot. Then panic set in and he ran to Hijikata's side. He turned him over with unbridled strength, adrenaline pumping into him. The rushing creek filled his ears along with the drumming beat of his heart. He shook Hijikata by the shoulders and called his name. He dragged him away from the stream and pressed his hands into his chest, one, two, three times. He breathed air into him, slapped his face and at last, with a gasping sound and choked sobs Hijikata stirred. He jerked from the ground and sat up, elbows holding him up. Spit and water dribbled down his chin. He caressed his neck as he breathed in oxygen, eyes darting everywhere until they found Gintoki's and stayed there. Fixated. Gintoki still had a hand on his shoulder, fingers curled into a vicious grip, when he regained his voice.

"Asshole! What happened?!"

"That's... what I want to ask you." Hijikata responded hoarse.

"Was it one of her traps? If it was you can lie to me, you can lie to me this once," Gintoki said, expression softening, "The kids will think you are so uncool, they won't let you go back."

Hijikata didn't join the happy cajoling. His eyes congregated to the spot by the creek where Gintoki had dragged him from. He slicked back his wet hair and his hand came back bloody from a blow to his head.

Gintoki's smirk vanished.

"Did someone…?" He turned around at once and looked at the ground for footsteps, searching for tracks of an imaginary assailant, "Did you see anything? Shinpachi said you heard something."

Hijikata got up slowly, wrenching Gintoki's hand away.

"I did. I thought a rotter had triggered one of the traps." Hijikata said.

"Well, someone clearly did." Gintoki replied pointedly.

Hijikata followed Gintoki's gaze up and saw the bloodied rock hanging over their heads by a rope.

"You're so uncool. I can't believe it," Gintoki exhaled, "Kagura is gonna love this."

"Shut up." Hijikata hissed.

Gintoki opened his mouth to shoot another humiliating jab at him but the stain of blood spreading on the back of Hijikata's collar stopped him. He bottled his childish petulance and the heavy feeling in his chest returned. He grabbed his blade and cut a piece of his sweatshirt by the elbow before pulling at it and ripping it off. Hijikata looked at him baffled, with an expression which would have sent Gintoki into one of his tirades if he hadn't noticed the wrinkles between Hijikata's brows, the locked jaw taking in the pain. What a stubborn, uppity asshole.

"Press this into the back of your head," Gintoki said, handing Hijikata the shredded piece of his sweatshirt, "I don't want you passing out on me. I won't piggyback you all the way up, you know?"

Hijikata looked at the tattered sweatshirt sleeve in silence. Gintoki wondered if the blow to the head had rattled his brain too.

"Oi, are you listening to me?" Gintoki approached him impatiently and applied the piece of cloth to his head. He grabbed Hijikata's hand and pulled it up to where he was pressing the makeshift gauze into the bloody bruise.

"Just keep applying pressure until we get back to the shrine," Gintoki said. He lowered his hand to the back of Hijikata's neck and his fingers grazed the soft hairs of his nape sticky with blood, "The end of the world came with our very own assassin-nurse. Aren't we lucky?"

Gintoki was unaware of his smile until Hijikata lashed out and stepped away from him.

"I know what you want from me," Hijikata said briskly. He looked down to avoid Gintoki's gaze, then his voice quietened, acknowledging the exact nature of what he had implied, "You'd have better luck with that woman."

Gintoki was too stunned. He had no comeback. As he watched Hijikata go, marching up the path towards the shrine, he knew he was going to spend the rest of the day digesting his guilt. Goosebumps pricked his skin and he stared briefly at his exposed forearm, clammy with the almost imperceptible drizzle of rain.

"'Ruined my shirt for nothing."

Hijikata could not remember what had happened. He had been examining the forest ground by the creek trying to find the patterns that would reveal to him the ingenuity of humans or the tracks of the undead ones when out of nowhere something heavy had found the back of his head and he had blacked out. He could not recollect his fall or the splashing of water. He could only remember what had come after. So familiar now. That silver shine.

Shinpachi's eyes widened with elation as he met him at the shrine's gate.

"Hijikata-san, I'm so glad you're back! You were taking too long and…" Shinpachi's eyes flew to the hand Hijikata kept pressed against the back of his head and he stuttered, "W-What happened? Are you alright? Gin-san went-"

"Loser set off one of the traps." Gintoki said a few feet behind him.

His voice alone sent a shudder down Hijikata's spine. He could feel himself unraveling. The impact had him shaken. His entire body trembled nonstop, from the loss of blood, from the damned hot and cold weather, from rage at his own carelessness, who the fuck knew. He couldn't think. Hijikata cleared the irritating spray of rain from his eyes and stormed off, sparing neither Shinpachi nor Gintoki another word.

Thoughts ran amok inside him as he tried to figure out the reason why he had let his guard down; how he had missed Sarutobi's trap. He had seen no wires or ropes by the creek, no unnatural mounds of leaves, no scattered tools or boxes or human scrap of any kind. He had been standing not far from the brook when he had been hit. It didn't feel right.

He sought the shrine's well tucked behind one of the farm houses and pulled up a bucket of water to clean himself. He threw Gintoki's bloodied rag away and poured the bucket over his head. Cold water doused his wound and he bit his lip groaning.

"Now that you've cleaned it, let me take a look."

Hijikata shuddered again.

"I told you to leave me alone." he hissed.

Gintoki hummed.

"Hm, not really. Besides, I asked Kinky-Glasses to check on you and she refused. Got a pretty nasty grudge against you I'm afraid."

"Good for her."

"There you go again, Hijikata-kun. Wallowing in self-hatred," Gintoki stepped closer and Hijikata stepped back, determined not to let Gintoki appraise his wound, "I really can't stand that about you. Reminds me too much of myself."

Hijikata halted two steps from the well. Gintoki's red eyes bore strangely into his own.

"What are we still doing here?" Hijikata asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"Here in this place. This shrine is a death trap. The kid is dead. The guy with the stump is next. We're sitting ducks waiting for him to croak," Gintoki looked at him silently, without interruption, "Those raiders the woman killed, the ones she called sweepers or what-have-you, haven't you wondered why they haven't jumped us yet? I'm sure I heard something when I left the gate. But there were no rotters by the creek. Whoever they are, they are still out there and there's only one way out of this place. Behind us is a fucking mountain, if we get attacked-"

"The sweepers were after the kid. When the kid got bit they looted the town and left the hoard behind," Gintoki said defensively, "And she is dead now, do you really need me to remind you? You probably heard an animal or something."

"Something?" Hijikata scoffed, "Why did we find so many fresh corpses the day we arrived? The looters are still after them, they know there's people here. It's only a matter of time before they come."

Gintoki was silent for a moment. He turned his gaze away towards the sanctuary building and Hijikata wanted to clutch him by the shoulders and bring his eyes back to him.

"If it was Kagura or Shinpachi holed up here with a stump, unable to move, if it was me, if it was you…" the words trailed from Gintoki's mouth softly but crystal clear. Hijikata refused to hear them.

"That's not fair," Hijikata snapped, "We can't make decisions based on shit like that. Yeah, it could be them, it could be us. But it's not. And, frankly, if it were me it wouldn't change a thing. The best thing to do would still be to leave-"

Gintoki's hand found his chest in a split second. He pushed Hijikata back against the edge of the well and the back of his legs hit the wall surrounding it. Hijikata gripped the wooden railing for balance but Gintoki seized his shirt and pulled him close.

"Seeing as you've hit your head and can't think straight, I'll do as you want and leave you alone," he did not look Hijikata in the eye but rather in the mouth, a ways down, shadows and curls hid his expression from Hijikata, "And don't forget, you owe me two shirts now."

Gintoki released his grip and walked away, kicking his bloodied rag on the ground before switching directions and disappearing into one of the farm houses.

Hijikata's breaths came haggard. His chest heaved with repressed emotion. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself but his wound throbbed for attention, a ceaseless pain that begged to be soothed. Hijikata poured another two buckets of cold water over his head and went in search of his backpack for something to dry himself with. He found a small towel and patted the excess water off his hair. Pink stains smeared it as he brushed it past his wound. The bleeding had stopped. But not the chills. Those returned soon after and Hijikata decided to swallow his pride and seek the warmth of Hattori's heater. The man was sleeping beside it when Hijikata entered the room. Kagura was watching him. She looked bored, practicing tricks with her butterfly knife. Her face lit up when Hijikata came in.

"You look awful, I don't even feel like making fun of you." she pouted.

Hijikata grunted. He sat by the heater and leaned back against the wood panelling of the room, waiting for his body to warm up.

"Laugh while you can." Hijikata told her.

"What about showing you my new trick?" Kagura suggested, flicking the blade in her hand.

"So long as you don't cut any fingers."

"Wow, you're such a bore, grandpa."

Kagura rolled her eyes at him but the corners of her mouth curled into a bashful smile at the tender look on Hijikata's face.

He wasn't used to it. That unspoken ease between them. He had never dwelled with the same people for long. The only person he had ever lived so closely with had been his wife. Even him and Kondo, his best friend, had never shared the unavoidable intimacy of uninterrupted weeks together, the exposure that came with every shared day and every shared hour. Hijikata had little to compare his current experience with. His childhood was long behind him. Through the cobwebs he could account only a single mother and a distant family. So what he had now he hadn't known before. The codependency, the familiarity, the fear, they were changing him, making him believe in things that didn't exist. To feel things he hadn't felt before. He knew he was becoming someone he didn't recognize and nothing demonstrated it better than his willingness to let Gintoki do to him whatever it was that would have made him forget the world for a minute, at the expense, no less, of his unwavering loyalty to a marriage that now resided exclusively in his mind and in its physical token, the silver band around his finger. A testament to the past. To who he had been. To where he belonged. To the person he loved. The first and the last. The one who had been so easy to let into his heart, the one who, before he had known it, had already nestled there, who knew him better than he had known himself. He missed her so much he didn't mind the nightmares. The ones that visited him like a movie reel documenting the events of the night she had been bit and then burned, the ones where Hijikata followed her retreating figure only to be held back by a pair of arms locked around his waist, pulling him away from her and towards a strong chest, and as Hijikata turned to gaze at the face of his captor he felt Mitsuba's hand touch his and, turning, he saw her features disfigure, her nails grow long and sharp like talons, piercing the skin of his wrist, dark blood drip from the corners of her mouth, the light in her eyes fade, the whites change to yellow, her mouth open like a gaping wound as she shrieked loud enough to tear her vocal chords to ribbons but not loud enough to silence the gentle voice that whispered by his ear.

Take it off.

Hijikata woke from these nightmares shaking, forehead slick with a cold sweat. He glanced at his ring to make sure it was still there and then he looked around in search of the one who had led him astray. The one who had saved his life. Did he know how much he plagued Hijikata's thoughts? How he had managed to get under his skin so effortlessly, so much worse than a virus, worse than a plague. Like a curse. Like fate. And Hijikata had chosen nothing of it. So he did what he knew best. He fought it.

"Keep feeding the stove until the water is hot," Sarutobi said pouring the last bucket of water into the tub, "If only Hattori could soak for a few minutes," she sighed, "A hundred hot towels draped over him wouldn't have the same effect. The soak would increase his blood circulation so much."

"First, we don't have a hundred towels," Gintoki said, "Second, you don't really wanna risk his stump underwater after that patch up job, right? And third, if keeping him warm is so important I'd say a couple of hot towels is better than nothing. It's gonna feel like a Roppongi elite spa to that guy."

Sarutobi nodded, but her head hung low. She gripped the sides of the old iron tub they had dug from the confines of the farm house and Gintoki could hear her mumble to herself. Despondent and half-coherent.

"We'll fix it, we'll fix it, we'll fix it."

Gintoki reached out and pushed her red-rimmed glasses up her nose. The gesture started her and she blushed. No one would fault her falling a little in love with him.

"If your glasses are foggy he won't be able to see you cry." Gintoki said.

"I-I'm not crying, it's the h-heat from the s-stove!" Sarutobi stammered, "I'm gonna c-check the s-smoke v-visibility from the gate, I'll be right b-back!" she pushed the glasses further up her face to hide her blush and bumped against the door on her way out.

Gintoki chuckled to himself and added another log to the fire.

You'd have better luck with that woman.

"Fuck that asshole."

He hated to admit how his brain, in the troubling process of trying to absolve his feelings of desire, had steered him in the direction of Sarutobi, too eager to prove himself innocent and Hijikata right, right insofar as Gintoki's interest in him went, the supposed attraction which, according to both Hijikata and the rational part of Gintoki's mind, was the fruit of Gintoki's repressed libido, the sorry outcome of too many months of abstinence or rather the self-imposed confinement of the flesh he had had no control over.

Gintoki couldn't say how much time had passed since he had last been with someone. The end of the world had become a perpetual state of being, ingrained enough in his mind that no prior way of living seemed to have been something he had ever experienced. He tried to recall the last time he had pleasured himself but he couldn't think of it either. Every day since he had left his apartment had been a struggle to stay alive, a struggle to not get bitten, and, with two kids in tow, his efforts had more than doubled. Their security superseded the needs of his body, sometimes -oftentimes - even hunger. It was no wonder, therefore, that sexual pleasure had fallen to the bottom of the list with a dozen other priorities before it.

But Gintoki couldn't deny that the thought hadn't crossed his mind either. The thought that perhaps he and Hijikata could strike some kind of deal. They had been travelling together long enough to understand their needs, hadn't they? Hijikata's accusation was proof of it. Gintoki hadn't imagined it. He hadn't been overt about the unspoken attraction between them either, well, except that night a few days ago, though he had quickly retracted the offer. It had felt too intimate, their hands had intertwined too easily and the sight of Hijikata's ring had reminded Gintoki of the type of man Hijikata was. The committed type. The one he shouldn't mess with. Gintoki had stepped back. Honorably, he thought. He didn't understand why Hijikata had to bring up the issue again. Gintoki had told himself no and prevented anything from happening. All Hijikata had to do was follow his lead and pretend nothing had happened. It was so simple. But no. Hijikata had to say it too. Had he been steeling himself as Gintoki had that night? Asking the impossible so as to extricate himself from the situation? Present both a refusal and the reason why they would never work? Was that what Hijikata had done? Denied Gintoki in the open air with open words so not only Gintoki but Hijikata himself would believe it?

That was a dangerous thought. A line of thinking Gintoki didn't care to pursue. He was intelligent enough to know that if they were both fighting their own wills, pulling away, then there definitely had to be something bringing them together, something between them. Whatever it was, it was no good. And Gintoki was determined for it to be sexual frustration. The unresolved, accumulated tension of months without proper release was simple to cure. If he could take care of that he could reason with Hijikata again. He could look at him and talk to him again without that stupid guilt and shame edging him closer to decisions which he would ultimately regret. He and Hijikata both. But if it did not end up being sexual frustration, then it had to be buried. Like everything else in the world now.

He had to kill it before it killed them.

Gintoki looked at the burning logs inside the stove of the old iron bath tub. Hijikata's frenzied look danced among the flames. The emptiness inside his eyes as he talked of being left behind, survival first, everything else second. Hijikata had no second thoughts, no secret plan. He had told it plainly to Gintoki's face and Gintoki couldn't stomach it. He had been lulled into a false sense of security in the shrine, entombed in that pine forest, cradled by a mountain, visited by a lone walking corpse once every other day instead of every waking moment. A routine that resembled his days at Katsura's house, save the tunneling grief. That Gintoki had dug as far as he could and found nothing. Letting go had been easier than carrying on. Maybe that was the reason why he had become so blind to reality, why its myriad dangers sounded so fathomless to his ears. Maybe that was why he could not stop himself from helping Sarutobi and Zenzou at any cost. It was his way to keep grief at bay. A frivolous notion. Hijikata had blown it to pieces in a second. His unconscious body by the creek. His eyes shut, his mouth parted and drawing no breath. His lips freezing cold.

The thought dawned on Gintoki that maybe the hole of grief he had dug after Katsura's death might be a bottomless pit after all.

"Is it hot yet?" Kagura's question came pressing and impatient, "Sa-chan said I could take a dip in the tub after she was done bathing Hattori."

"That's 'cause she still feels guilty about that cut on your neck." Gintoki replied.

"Wow, such a bad mood, Gin-chan. Did you get rejected?"

"Oi, oi, are we in high school? I don't share my secrets like that."

"But I'm your best friend!"

"Then you won't mind sharing the soap and the hot water."

"No way! It's not my fault you nibble on your soap 'cause it smells of vanilla!"

"What?"

"Yeah, me and 'Pachi, we know."

"How to make things up maybe! You know damn well what happened to my soap!"

"Yeah, you ate it."

"It slipped from my fingers at the river!"

"That's your worst lie so far, Gin-chan."

"Shut up, Kagura. You better scrub those feet pip squeak clean so we can all have a turn on the tub. I ain't about to spend the whole night going back and forth to the well to fill it up again."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Kagura approached the tub and dipped a finger in the water, "Woah, that's too hot, I'll go get the towels."

Following Sarutobi's instructions, they dipped a bunch of towels into the boiling water and then pulled them into a large wooden bucket which they carried back to the main room of the shrine where Sarutobi had installed a folding screen to give Zenzou privacy. She had decided the state of his wound was too severe to risk moving him, even if Zenzou argued the contrary, boasting about his tolerance for pain. He didn't seem to realize that carrying him anywhere might compromise his sutures and Sarutobi's stock of disinfectant was nearly depleted.

"Just a moment." Sarutobi said from behind the screen.

Gintoki and Kagura groaned lightly, feeling their damp fingers slip from the rope handles of the bucket.

"Ok, bring it in."

Sarutobi's voice chimed like an angel's. Gintoki and Kagura nodded over the rising steam of the hot towels and, with gritted teeth, brought the bucket to the area behind the screen where Sarutobi had arranged an area to bathe Zenzou. A white sheet covered his naked body like a corpse's yet nobody commented on it.

"Thank you so much. I checked the bath's smoke trail from the gate with Shinpachi-kun and it's not too bad. The roof of the shrine covers most of it. You should go now while there's still light. It's gonna be pitch dark soon."

"If Kagura doesn't take an hour in there we'll be fine," Gintoki said, trying to light up the mood, "You want a go after?"

"No, I'm fine. You can go." Sarutobi said.

Gintoki noticed Kagura's flustered expression as they exited the room. The spindly body beneath the white sheet seemed etched onto her eyeballs. Gintoki nudged her with his elbow.

"Ow! What the hell, Gin-chan?!"

"If you want more time to space out on your own I'll go right ahead and enjoy my first hot bath in months."

"Oh, no you don't! I said I was first! Get out of my way!"

Kagura pushed him aside and ran to the farm house without looking back.

"Fifteen minutes each!" Gintoki yelled after her.

"Thirty!"

"Are you crazy? It's gonna be night soon!"

"Twenty!"

"You better scrub those feet until they bleed then!"

Dark grey clouds hid the moon from sight. Around the walls of the shrine darkness filled the empty spaces of the forest and Hijikata stared into them hypnotized, waiting for something to happen. He stood watch by the wicket gate, occasionally flicking his lighter in the absence of any cigarettes to smoke. He always regretted having smoked his last, but every time he did it he told himself the smoke was worth it. Every stupid situation that instilled him with anxiety warranted a cigarette, the last of the packet, and every time afterward, when the need came and there were none, he reproached himself about how weak he had been to have wasted his last cigarette like that. The vicious circle of addiction.

"You are last on the roll call." Kagura's voice snapped him out of it and he put the lighter back in his pocket.

"Roll call?" Hijikata asked her. He walked away from the dark boundaries of the forest and back inside the shrine's walls and closed the wicket door behind him.

"Yeah, for the bath," Kagura said matter-of-factly. Her hair gleamed in the dim light radiating from the two candles that lit the gate passageway, "Gin-chan forfeited his turn so he didn't have to cook dinner tonight. He thinks he is very smart but we'll have him pull double shifts at watch tomorrow," she said with a smirk, "'See what's good for him."

"You're not helping with dinner either." Hijikata pointed out. His tone was callous but Kagura's brow rose just enough to show displeasure.

"Well, yeah. I had to braid my hair and come relieve you at the gate. Sa-chan is washing Hattori's towels, 'Pachi is doing the cooking and Gin-chan has been soaking in the bath for like fifty minutes," she coughed to gloss over the exaggeration, then placed her hands on her hips to regain control of the conversation, "So get your ass out of here and make sure Gin-chan doesn't hog the tub all to himself. Plus, it's night already and you'll be able to see the smoke for miles."

Hijikata nodded, too tired to argue a recharged, energetic Kagura.

"Fifteen minutes tops!" she warned him.

The walk to the farm house took Hijikata longer than he intended. Whether it was the late hour stretching the shadows that obscured the path before him or his unwillingness to deal with Gintoki after their altercation earlier that day, he didn't expect to hear two voices once he reached his destination. A faint light came from the open window of the house where the old bathtub had been installed. Steam and smoke surged from the small opening like dragon's breath, weaved together seamlessly, rising up and up into the night sky. Half a dozen wet towels hung on a rope beside the window, but the longest, a red piece of cloth Sarutobi had dug from the innards of the shrine and which might have once been used as a banner in a religious festivity, she had hung to dry from the rooftop. It was pinned in place by heavy rocks and the warm glow emanating from the bathing room accentuated the bright red of the fabric. A dragon's tongue. A gash of blood.

The voices reached Hijikata without proper context. The words sounded disconnected as if lost in the cloud of steam and smoke. Hijikata stepped inside the house and in the hall he heard Sarutobi speaking. Her voice had a shy quality to it which he hadn't heard before.

"He looks much better. Like there isn't any pain. I don't know what it means and I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what's coming next. I witnessed it at the hospital many times before, terminally ill patients rallying in their last moments. Acting and talking like they were not ill at all, as if they had not spent the previous months tethered to a bed and at the mercy of the drugs we pumped them full of. They had this surge of life and then... Whatever happens, I just want you to know I'm so grateful for everything you have done for us. After what happened to Soyo-chan we were lost. Empty. Like the crawlers. I'm so ashamed of the way I behaved that day we met. You were like a blessing that came to save me. You probably don't want to hear it, Gin-san, but I wouldn't be able to continue without you here. I will be forever in your debt. I-"

The wooden plank below Hijikata's feet squeaked under duress. He hadn't noticed the pressure he was holding while standing silently in place. The embarrassment of being caught forced his feet forward and he appeared at the door of the bathing room with the flattest expression he could muster.

"I always knew cops listened behind doors. Didn't think it would take me the end of the world to prove it." Sarutobi said derisively, the shyness all gone from her voice.

Hijikata swallowed a feisty reply. He was expecting another jab, a more insulting one from the insufferable figure soaking in the tub, but he only got the crackling of a burning log in reply.

"Excuse me. I didn't want to interrupt." Hijikata said dryly.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, does it? Can't you see we're busy?"

Hijikata opened his mouth to answer, a bit riled at the constant rebukes he got from the quarrelsome woman. He didn't expect her to forgive him for ending the little girl's misery any time soon, however, he didn't wish to atone for it either. On the contrary, he hoped one day Sarutobi would have the strength of character to thank him. He had done his duty and had nothing to be ashamed of. She would understand him eventually. It was inevitable. But until then even Hijikata had his limits. There were only enough eggshells he could walk over before he started to break them.

He opened his mouth to speak but the sound of rushing water drowned whatever words he might have spoken. Gintoki stood up from the hot tub and Sarutobi shrieked involuntarily. Her hands flew to her face, fingers spread out so she could look at the naked body before her. Hijikata, too, stared in surprise. Ripples of water spilled down Gintoki's torso following the lines of his muscles, pooling on the ridges where bone met skin, a body that was the portrait of its privations but also of its diligence, of the stubbornness to stay alive. While Sarutobi's eyes beheld it all the way down, Hijikata found himself looking upward, searching for the lips that had breathed air into his lungs that afternoon, hasty and warm. He hadn't thought about it until that very moment. He looked away and Sarutobi rushed past him with flushed cheeks.

"G-Gin-san! P-please d-don't- I, I mean, please do w-warn us first next time!"

Gintoki lifted a leg over the tub and climbed out nonchalantly, dripping water all over the tiled area of the floor. He grabbed his towel and began to wipe his mop of silver curls. Hijikata stared at him scornfully.

"What?" Gintoki asked, wrapping the towel around his waist.

"I didn't know you were so desperate." Hijikata replied.

"What's the harm in showing off the goods?"

Hijikata sneered. He couldn't tell if Gintoki was joking or not. Then the jab finally came. Unexpected but calculated, as if Gintoki had been counting the seconds to say it.

"Maybe she wasn't the only one who enjoyed the show."

"I was in the force, I've seen enough shows." Hijikata snorted.

"Then why don't you look me in the face?"

Hijikata's eyes rose to confront Gintoki's. Blue and alive and defiant. Gintoki was too biased to see in them only what he wanted to see so he was unable to take Hijikata's soft blush for what it truly was. Instead he took into account the superficial facts he wouldn't have cared less about otherwise such as the temperature of the room, the steam clogging every inch of space, the heat emanating from the tub's stove, all of them perfectly logical explanations for Hijikata's flushed cheeks. Not to mention the bitter taste of the words he had chucked at Gintoki earlier that day and which blinded him to any glimpse of hope.

A soft breeze blew in from the window and Gintoki broke eye contact as the chill night wind reeled over his skin. Despite the hostile mood crackling between them he could feel his blood run south, the heat mastering him. Hijikata's unwavering gaze did little to assuage the feeling, though it warned Gintoki he had pushed things too far. He sighed and patted Hijikata's shoulder casually, mustering up an artificial smile.

"Don't get so worked up. She blew me off."

He didn't stick around to get Hijikata's reaction. He grabbed his bundle of clothes off the floor and left the room, welcoming the biting cold of the musty hall of the house. He dressed up half in a daze and tried to turn his mind to mundane concerns, the rotating shifts, the spare food, the rotters, the pitch black night.

Sarutobi's voice startled him at the door. She was leaning against the wall outside the farm house, a couple of feet away from the bathroom window. Steam and light wafted from it with an ornate sluggishness only seen in dreams.

Neither had any idea of Hijikata's figure by the hot tub, second guessing the dip into Gintoki's bath water.

"Why did you lie? You like to torment him." Sarutobi said.

"It's just a joke between us. We like to make each other miserable."

"But that's the last thing you want, isn't it?"

"What I want doesn't have a place in this world."