Heaven Knows Everyone Is Miserable Now

Chapter 7: Exit by Blood

Kagura stared at the puddle forming between her legs as she squatted. Her fixed stare showed no emotion, not even relief at letting her bladder go. Her entire body plied rigid and tense, her breath was even.

A day had passed since she had fled the shrine with Shinpachi, the two of them following Sarutobi's steps as if they were her own shadow, traipsing through the hidden trails of the packed mountain forest until they had reached its steep foothill and began trekking carefully through the empty roads that connected the mountain paths to the nearby farms.

Looking behind her at the dark mass of pine trees, Kagura could almost believe their escape to have been a dream - a nightmare she had woken up from but not her body. Her muscles remained stiff, ready to hop over the trunks of fallen trees and the hollow ditches and burrows hidden in the uneven forest ground Sarutobi had navigated through with ease. Kagura's hand had never hovered far from the handle of her bat nor the sheathed knife she kept by her hip. Her thoughts travelled back to the shrine and the warm hand that had enclosed hers before she had been told to follow Sarutobi to safety. The image of Gintoki's back and Hijikata's pale face as she left the room was burned into her eyelids. However, closing her eyes was nowhere near as painful as remembering the thunderous rumble of gunshots she had to grit her teeth through while forcing her feet to keep moving, to drift further away from the people she had left behind.

Shinpachi's red eyes had found hers in that split second of shock as the sound of gunfire had echoed across the mountain. Space and time had compressed into meaninglessness. Kagura's knees had wavered, her weight had sunk into the ground. It had been Sarutobi's fierce grip on her wrist which had brought her back, nails digging into Kagura's skin to urge her to action. Kagura had pushed back. She had turned around and ran the opposite way, Sarutobi hissing after her, "Dumb girl!", Shinpachi too. Kagura couldn't remember how many steps she had taken before Shinpachi's arms had wrapped around her and his cold cheek, wet with tears, had grazed her ear. She had stopped moving then.

"Kagura-chan, don't."

Her boots had scraped the ground with fury, leaving deep marks in the muddy earth. That stupid invisible rain unyielding.

"Do you think those bastards would waste so many bullets for a kill?" Sarutobi had uttered under her breath, "They are calling the horde this way. We need to get out of here fast." she'd said before rubbing off the mark of Kagura's boots with her own.

There had been no option except cowardice. Its taste was bitter. Its weight hung heavy on Kagura's conscience. She couldn't bear it.

She got up and zipped up her pants, Sarutobi's convincing argument blasting in her ears. It sounded particularly weak and sloppy almost a day later with no Gintoki or Hijikata in sight. Kagura cut the corner of the small country house they had chosen to spend the last brief hour of dawn at and entered through the kitchen door. Her eyes had no trouble adjusting to the absence of light after an entire night of laborious walk. Sarutobi had refused to stop even under the cover of darkness, desperate to lengthen the distance between them and Sweepers on their tail.

Shinpachi sat in the same chair Kagura had left him brooding at five minutes earlier. She pulled back the chair in front of him and slumped down on it. The tension accumulated in her body had begun to stir. She crossed her arms above the table and buried her head between them. Three deep breaths later, she lifted her head up and tilted back her chair, arms spread out while her hands held the edge of the kitchen table.

"Where the hell are they!" she exclaimed, tightening her grip. Her voice was loud in the stillness of dawn.

Shinpachi didn't flinch. His head remained downcast while he wrote in his journal. Kagura groaned. The lack of response pissed her. She would have taken any reply, a request for her to shut up, a lie, a frown even, but not neglect. She tilted her chair back into place and kicked the leg of the table. The table shifted a couple of inches and Shinpachi's pencil slid over the scribbled page of his journal. The provocation succeeded. Shinpachi put down his pencil and threw Kagura a hard look over the rim of his glasses.

"They'll be here."

"When? When will that be, Shinpachi? She won't let us stop for two seconds before she has us on our feet again. We're putting miles and miles between us and the shrine. What if they are trapped and need our help? What if-"

Shinpachi flipped the cover of his journal shut.

"Don't you trust them?" he asked her.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I do."

"Then we should do as Gin-san said. He told us to run-"

"And Toshi said they were buying us time!" Kagura snapped. She could hear Hijikata's voice in the back of her mind playing on loop, his last words echoing a goodbye, "It's those bastards I don't trust! Isn't it obvious?! We should be going back, not running away like cowards. It's been almost an entire day and no one has caught up with us. The horde won't leave the mountain that easily, it's not like they can just follow the paths. Think about it, Pachi! Half those rotters will probably off themselves wandering from the cliffs, it ain't exactly a prairie up there. We could double back and go into town, it's gotta be deserted by now after those assholes-"

"Shot holes into every wooden board of the shrine?" Sarutobi's voice was ice. She closed the kitchen door behind her and put down the bucket of water she had brought with her. Shinpachi stood up to help. Sarutobi nodded towards the bucket and adjusted her glasses.

"Fill up."

Shinpachi took out his water bottle and reached a hand towards Kagura. She grunted, displeased with the interruption. She rummaged through her backpack for her canteen and passed it to Shinpachi. He went to fill both their cans while Sarutobi took his seat at the table, directly in front of Kagura. An insult.

"Let's hear the rest of it then," Sarutobi said, "That great plan of yours. Better let it out while it's still fresh," she paused to crack her fingers, "Because when it starts to rot I'm afraid we won't be able to stop you from doing something you might regret."

Kagura's leg jittered beyond her control. She crossed her arms and locked her eyes on the silhouette of the empty sink next to the table, an alien shadow against the small kitchen window.

"You told Gin-chan we'd wait by the farms. We are at the farms, we have been at the farms a whole day. They ain't coming. What are we waiting for? A message?" Kagura scoffed, "Your friends got the walkies, our only way of contacting Gin-chan and Toshi is dead. We..."

The word 'dead' impregnated the room. Rammed it full and choking. Sarutobi's expression, guarded and sharp behind her glasses, fell away. The disc of the sun had begun to peek over the horizon outside. The charged skies brightened and light streamed softly into the kitchen. The skin around Sarutobi's eyes was red and puffed. Dark circles hung underneath them, more pronounced for her pale sallow cheeks.

Kagura bit her tongue.

"You heard that bitch Kijima on the walkie," Sarutobi took off her glasses and wiped the lenses with the hem of her sleeve, "We go back we're dead. All that talk about saving them was a trap. Hattori, Gin-san, that bastard cop… the three of them gave their lives so you two could live."

"You don't know that," Kagura said between gritted teeth, eyes searching wildly for Sarutobi's,"Your sicko buddies might have taken them or they might have escaped, you don't know that!"

The murmur of dragging feet and mindless growling filled the empty silence that followed Kagura's last word. Shinpachi approached the kitchen window and took a look outside to assess the situation. Three rotters walked along the road while another had steered from the group and got stuck against the knee-high gate that led to the back of the house.

"A creeper's stuck in the gate. I'll take care of it before he calls the others." Shinpachi said. He took out his knife and left the kitchen before Kagura or Sarutobi could comment. They didn't. They resumed their staring contest across the kitchen table in a silence so intense they heard the sound of Shinpachi's knife digging into the creeper's skull.

"For whatever it's worth," Sarutobi put her glasses back on, her voice trembled, "For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry. We never meant to lie to you. Our time with those people is over. It has been over for a long time. The things we did… I'm not proud of them. They taught me to survive this… this..." she waved her hand around to indicate the dim lit kitchen gathering dust, devoid of its true carers who might be roaming the streets outside, hungry and corpselike. "But I still lost," she said looking down, "Soyo, Hattori... surviving this world is to learn to lose. Hate me all you want but the faster you get this through your head the better."

Kagura's leg had stopped moving. She sat still as a mouse, transfixed.

"Of course I don't want them to be dead," Sarutobi said, encouraged by Kagura's silence, "The cop can die for all I care but Gin-san," a soft smile came upon her lips, "He was nothing but kind to us, to me... you and Shinpachi-kun too. I'm indebted to you. I'm grateful. Guiding you two here is my saving grace as much as letting Soyo die is my punishment. And Hattori, whatever meaning he sought in his death, redemption, salvation, I didn't wish for it, I…" she closed her eyes, lost for words.

Kagura shifted in her seat. Feelings of pity made her restless. Her own attitude minutes before repelled her. She had been demanding, petulant, selfish. She had been too absorbed in her own fears and self-righteousness to realize Sarutobi's position. She'd forgotten Sarutobi hurt too, probably much more than Kagura could imagine. Sarutobi had lost the people closest to her. She was alone. Without a family or a home to return to.

"I don't want Hattori's sacrifice to have been in vain. The last days we had, the little happiness we shared, I take comfort in it. I know Hattori is dead. Kijima has no reason to spare him and you saw him, he didn't have much time left." Tears fell down Sarutobi's cheeks but she kept her composure, pausing whenever her voice faltered, sounding stronger with each word she put forth, "If we go back I can't guarantee your safety. Same thing the longer we stay here so close to the mountain. I won't be able to keep my word to Gin-san. Besides, it's my head those bastards want. They don't know who I'm traveling with. They mustn't. I'll take you to that government shelter you were looking for and then I'm gone. You won't have to worry about me or those shitheads ever again."

"No, that's not-"

"Listen, Kagura-chan," Sarutobi's mask of control had returned. She reached a hand across the table to grab Kagura's but stopped midway and clenched it into a tight fist, "Don't open your heart, don't give it away. Not to me, not to anybody. Cherish the few people you still hold close. You'll have less to lose that way. You'll always win."

Kagura opened her mouth to reply but nothing came out. Sarutobi got up from the table and made for the kitchen door.

"If you don't mind now, I think we're done talking. There's a van parked next door. I'll go see if I can get it running."

Sarutobi left before Kagura could stand and go after her, though when she stepped outside and squinted her eyes at the gentle morning light she almost bumped into Sarutobi's back.

"Sa-chan? What the-"

Sarutobi had unsheathed her knife. She stood like a statue, tense, unmovable. Kagura's fingers itched for her bat but in her haste she had left it forgotten by the kitchen table. There were no growls or dumb moans. Over Sarutobi's shoulder Kagura saw Shinpachi's figure a few steps ahead by the small back gate. A rotter lay wasted at his feet and two men stood on the other side of the gate.

Strangers.

They moved at a strange methodical pace. There was a synchronicity to their movements, their steps - dozens, hundreds - coordinated almost like a dancer's, the collective humming that drummed in the liminal spaces between bodies guided each from one spot to another, hypnotizing, masterful. Gintoki would never forget it for the rest of his life. He doubted the overbearing smell of decay, dried blood, rotten flesh and sour breath would ever disappear from his nostrils, but the possibility of surviving a throng of starving undead had his blood pumping. Adrenaline ran pure inside his veins. They throbbed madly beneath his skin, sweaty and warm under layers of bloodied clothing. His heart thumped with a hope similar to the courage of a lunatic, a taunt, a dare. He dared to survive. He dared escaping that hellish shrine amid a horde of rotters.

Coated in Hattori's remains, Gintoki tried to forget the way the dead man's flesh had torn between his fingers, the awful lukewarm temperature of his organs as Gintoki had dug deep into his gut for camouflage while Hijikata drew quiet, somber breaths beside him. Gintoki had never heard Hijikata pray before. He hadn't known Hijikata capable of it, yet Gintoki had heard his whispers as they left the dark room of their crime, the prayers for forgiveness, the pleas for the peaceful rest of Hattori's soul, a man both Gintoki and Hijikata had considered killing hours before. How fitting that Hattori should be the one saving them now, by virtue of his death. His spoiled blood allowed Gintoki and Hijikata to walk unscathed among the sea of rotters swarming the shrine grounds.

Hijikata walked a few feet away from Gintoki, filing in among the dead, mimicking their steps, embedded in the horde like a schooling fish. Gintoki tried to keep pace with Hijikata's hobble, careful not to let reason abandon him completely in the pervading animal thrum the mob of rotters wrung from him. One wrong move and death would follow. The worst kind there was. To be eaten alive. Gintoki's eye seldom left Hijikata's figure. He let himself hang back so he could follow him. Hijikata treaded slowly as he advanced towards the Sanctuary gate, head half cast down as he scoured the ground for jagged rocks and obstacles. Hattori's remaining shoe protected Hijikata's right foot but his left touched the ground wrapped in loose shreds of clothing around his sock; the laughter with which Gintoki had met the matter of Hijikata's stolen boots long forgotten. His heart leapt whenever Hijikata missed his footing. The unsettling growls of the roamers as Hijikata's exposed foot pressed down on mounds of gravel were close enough to rattle the little hairs at the back of Gintoki's neck.

Breathing came easier as they passed the Sanctuary gate. The packed horde cleared as they reached the edge of the forest. Rotters broke ranks in groups and lone forays into the dark stretch of wilderness beneath the pines. Gintoki caught Hijikata's eye as he looked back to ascertain his position. He mouthed the words for Hijikata to carry on. Hijikata concurred. Both knew sticking close to the shrine was too risky since the flat ground by the outer walls gave the rotters plenty of room to gather.

They were well into the forest with a good stretch of pine trees between them and the shrine when Gintoki finally ventured to speak.

"How's the foot?"

"I'll manage." Hijikata grunted. He leaned against a tree trunk to check his exposed foot and winced as he touched the dark smears on the bottom. Whether they were from dirt or blood Gintoki couldn't be sure, but Hijikata's troubled expression gave him a hint.

"Stay here, I'll see if I can find any track of the kids-"

"Are you stupid? That woman will have made sure they couldn't be followed. You'll probably find the tracks of those bastards first."

"Well, shit, what do you want me to do?" Gintoki hissed, "The farms she told us about are on the other side of this fucking mountain. How do you suppose we're gonna cross it with your foot bleeding? We need a path."

"You blaming me, asshole?"

"You're the one who wanted to play hero and save the dying cripple!"

"And you're the stupid idiot who decided to stay with me!"

Gintoki's eyes caught the red bruises on Hijikata's wrists and the red swelling on the corners of his mouth. Memories rushed back. Keen and vivid. Hijikata stared at Gintoki with flared nostrils but the silence that met his inflamed accusation spoke all the words Gintoki couldn't say. They averted their gazes and after another heavy moment of silence Gintoki lowered his voice. It came out flat and controlled.

"This is going to sound crazy but hear me out," he said, "What if we turn back?"

The suggestion was so preposterous Hijikata had no reply. His scowl was an answer in itself.

"Hey, hey, Hijikata, listen. We got ourselves covered in this… in all this blood. Let's not waste it. We didn't leave the car that far. At least not as far as the other side of this mountain where we're supposed to go. If those shitheads brought the horde here, the place where the horde was nesting must be empty now. Not completely empty but easier to plod through. And there's steps down the shrine that way. We could even take the river, there's gotta be tender ground there. Easier on your foot."

Hijikata's mouth was a thin line.

"The car is dead. She cut the wires." Hijikata said.

"There will be more cars in the town. If you're lucky, maybe a retailer with nice boots, uh? We could get us both a new pair, what do you say?"

Gintoki smiled faintly. He had no idea how deranged he looked, covered in blood with brown crusts of blood caking at the corners of his eyes and anywhere his skin wrinkled. His silvery locks had lost their shine, pushed back by bloodied hands; its roots flat and grimy with bits of flesh sticking to it black like charred meat. Yet he was certain that his eyes did not shine blue and clear like Hijikata's, two beacons of light in a sea of red. So long as Gintoki kept them looking his way he could live. After entrusting Kagura and Shinpachi to a fate he could not but have hope in, he was determined to protect the one he could still cling to other than his own. He was going to see to it.

"What about the kids?" Hijikata asked, his voice a mere rasp in the wind, "This detour will hold us back what? Days?"

"Not with a car." Gintoki replied promptly.

"But they'll be waiting for you," Hijikata pressed, "What if they come back? We lost the walkie, there's no way to communicate. My foot is fine, we can take down a rotter for a fucking boot!"

A pair of creepers strolled by on cue, unsettled by the whispering voices of Gintoki and Hijikata. Gintoki glanced at their dragging feet and held back a laugh. A pair of loafers and strap sandals. Hijikata brought a finger to his lips. Gintoki nodded. He inhaled deeply, instantly reminded of the precariousness of their situation. They had no guns or weapons to protect themselves. Kagura's knife had stayed behind, buried in Hattori's eye socket. The remains of a dead man were the only thing keeping Gintoki and Hijikata from becoming a rotter's next meal.

The two walking cadavers shuffled towards them, heads lolling back and forth as the sudden absence of sound confounded them. They lugged a mound of pine needles in front of them as they walked. The sharp pointy leaves prickled Hijikata's exposed foot as they pressed on. Hijikata's frown deepened as he held in the pain. Gintoki's withheld breath wavered. The rotter wearing the pair of loafers snarled and turned his way. Chunks of dead meat stuck to its sunken jaw. The stench that came from his open mouth hit Gintoki directly, not two inches away. Gintoki staggered.

"Fuck-"

Hijikata pushed the agitated rotter with brute strength before Gintoki had time to react. The creeper stumbled against the back of his sandaled companion and both hit the floor with a resounding thud, pine needles barely breaking their fall.

Gintoki's widened eyes met Hijikata's. He wanted to smack him. To scream. The dragging footsteps of dozens of rotters broke through the forest. The sounds of snapping twigs and crunched pine needles encroached Gintoki's ears close to deafness. Panic sent his heart racing. The unnatural shapes of walking corpses appeared from behind slim trunks of pine trees in every direction.

Gintoki's hands fumbled for weapons he didn't have. This was it. He had fucked it all up. So much for waiting for daylight in that dark, bloodied room. So much for defiling Hattori's corpse. So much for threatening Kinky Glasses should anything happen to Kagura or Shinpachi. So much for ever seeing the two of them again. Gintoki had fucked it all up.

His empty hands grasped the crisp air of the morning. His skin crinkled slowly and hard under the layers of dry blood.

Another empty hand found his. Warm and sticky.

Hijikata squeezed his fingers hard.

"Don't run."

Hijikata's whisper startled Gintoki. He turned towards Hijikata and his heart wrenched as they locked eyes and Hijikata withdrew his hand.

A mob of creepers overtook them. Numberless, they stepped over the groaning, agitated pair of creepers struggling on the ground and surrounded Hijikata and Gintoki, teeth clacking, eyes beady, arms dangling, confused.

Gintoki stood rooted to his spot for an indefinite amount of time in awe of the countless dead bodies crowding him, rattled by the ingeniousness of his own plan, the power of Hattori's blood. He barely noticed the smell. For a moment it seemed all he had ever known was the putrid, metallic scent of those meandering swaying bodies, the imposing demands of navigating a swarm of undead. Any life he had known before was incompatible with surviving the present.

He lost sight of Hijikata. Thoughts of him emptied from Gintoki's mind inside the swarm. He put one foot forward, then another. Light broke through the spindly branches and scraggly tops of the pine trees and shed gently on the path ahead. Gintoki yielded to instinct, to the rhythm of a shoal. Almost in a trance, he bumped into body after body, impervious to consequence, shielded by blood. Whatever conducted him to his destination he couldn't tell, only that he eventually got there. Beyond the tightly packed center of the horde, groups of rotters assembled haphazardly as they sought the shuffling sounds of forest animals or the twittering of birds; some gathered over fallen comrades caught in traps, others remained frozen in place, hollow. Then, as the path cleared, so did the features of the rotters in front of him.

A mass of dark hair sleek with a pulpy substance caught Gintoki's eye. Something worried him about that sheen. It bobbed. He had seen many a creeper limp as they dragged oddly bent feet after them, yet that faltering walk was familiar. Gintoki awoke from his stupor. A soft drizzle of rain had begun to pour. He became aware of the tender earth beneath his feet, the rushing murmur of water beside him. He had breathed into Hijikata's lips at that place before. Long ago.

The figure with the pulpy sheen on its head slumped to the ground twenty paces from Gintoki. The creek swallowed the sound of the fall, leaving the few creepers that roamed the area unfazed. Gintoki approached the slumped figure swiftly, noting the red blotches that marked the figure's left footsteps.

He said nothing. Rain drops trickled down Hijikata's face mixed in with the sweat from his temples and the bloody bits of Hattori's entrails that had stuck to his hair. Gintoki laced an arm under Hijikata's armpits and dragged him up. He draped Hijikata's right arm over his shoulder and wrapped one arm around the back of Hijikata's knee. With Hijikata hoisted securely over his shoulders he carried him down the mountain, following the reliable path by the creek. He missed the roads that led up to the shrine, he missed the sabotaged car they had abandoned weeks earlier. He walked relentlessly in the rain, each step heavier than the last as he sought refuge from the deluge that would rob them of protection.

By the time the creek met a wide river bed the rain had washed away the blood. The scent of moss, wet dirt and fish-tainted water accosted Gintoki like a marvel of nature, supplying him with enough strength to reach the shelter of the nearest bridge. The ground underneath the bridge was dry and gravelly, scattered with pebbles. Gintoki lay Hijikata down beside him and shook him by the shoulder, ignoring his shivering.

"Hijikata, you hearin' me?" Gintoki didn't recognize his own voice, hoarse, haggard. He had been walking for hours and nothing made sense except to continue moving.

"If you hear me just nod." Gintoki tried again. He got no response except more shivers. He looked at Hijikata's exposed feet. The tatters wrapped around his sock were too dark to distinguish between dirt and blood.

"You better not be fucking bit."

The words came out garbled from Gintoki's mouth. Without Kagura and Shinpachi to support him and Hijikata's sober stare to anchor him, he felt more desolate than ever. He looked around at the small space under the bridge, desperate for warmth, for a solution. Reasoning with the fact he had to leave Hijikata there alone made his stomach churn.

"If I come back to your corpse, I swear you'll be walking this world until you're the last one standing." Gintoki whispered. His eyes were red. He squeezed Hijikata's hand, the one with the ring. Gratitude was the last thing on his mind.

"I won't let you see her ever again."

It was too cold to sleep, too cold to rest. Hijikata curled up on himself, too cold to feel his limbs though a stinging sensation travelled from his left leg all the way up to his groin. He had a dim recollection of the bleeding sores on his foot. The bruises all over his body from the beating he had taken. What he could not account for was the ache all over his midriff like he had been snapped in half. He tried to move but even stretching his leg had him gasping for breath. The ground was hard and cold underneath him, the terrain rough. Sand and dirt got in his mouth. He spewed it out and gagged at the taste of the putrid blood he had smeared all over himself back at the shrine. Another deed to take to his grave, another deed to make up for in hell. How he was still alive he didn't know. He didn't expect to last much longer given the tremors raking his body. He opened his eyes and his turvy vision gave him no relief. Everything around him was dark, the day had gone. Rain poured hard over water, over bushes and trees, it spattered on the pavement. Little streams met over the asphalt and ran his way but he was too cold to feel it, too wet. His clothes were damp and freezing, plastering him to the ground. Gusts of wind blew over his trembling body. He inched towards dry ground seeking warmth and hit his head against a wall of cement. A small creature squealed and squirmed away. The sound echoed across the black ceiling above his head. Maybe he was already in hell. The stench of sewage lingered in the air. Stale, dank, foul. For a moment Hijikata welcomed the darkness. He didn't want to know anything about the place where he had been left to die. He only wished there was some way to get to it faster. He hit his head again, purposefully this time. The impact made him forget every other pain. He hit it again and again until something other than rats responded: the low, hungry growl of a rotter. Hijikata stilled then. Unsure. Hattori had begged to be killed not to become one of them, yet he had still turned in the end. Would turning bother Hijikata so much if it was her doing it? Would Mitsuba have locked him in a shed? Fed him, kept him? No. She would have done the same thing he did. He had killed her. Burnt her. He had not been able to bear the thought of Mitsuba roaming the world until her corpse was too decomposed to stand. He had let her go. He had given her peace - an end Hijikata doubted he would get for himself. Rats already sniffed his bloody foot. He was fated to die and feed something. He deserved it.

The footsteps got louder as the rotter came nearer. Hijikata couldn't control his shivers. His body shook of its own volition and guided the walking corpse towards him. He clenched his fists. Something was missing. He felt his ring-finger with a trembling thumb and found nothing. His ribcage swelled. A shape hovered above him. He was too distraught to notice the creeper falling to the ground. Thunder grumbled in the distance, a reverberation of Hijikata's turmoil. A flash of thunder lightened Hijikata's little slice of hell under the bridge. He saw the corners where the rats had nested, the reeds swaying against the turbulent waters of the river and, at last, a shadow above him. A second flash of thunder shone on a patch of short white hair and the silvery gleam of a long blade. Hijikata's mouth formed a name but if he spoke it no one heard him.

A young voice came from afar.

"What's that, Pops? Did you find him?"

The man above Hijikata grunted.

The earth shook with another booming thunder. Hijikata tried to distinguish the silhouette in the dark to no avail. He tried calling for Gintoki but a smack rendered him unconscious. He was knocked out.