Disclaimer: I do not own Gintama

Heaven Knows Everyone Is Miserable Now

Chapter 8: Purpose

Few words could describe Kagura's mental state as the van pulled up to the barred gates of an immense, wealthy family estate. She was briefly reminded of her middle school trip to Tokyo's Imperial Palace back when all she had on her mind were boys she wanted to beat up and the next issue of her favorite weekly shoujo magazine. She realized her mouth was hanging open when she looked beside her and saw Shinpachi's reaction mirroring hers, an expression so stunned his glasses fell down the sweaty bridge of his nose.

The gates opened, the van drove inside and two men scurried to close and bar the gate. On the other side of Kagura, sitting quietly, Sarutobi looked out the window with furrowed brows, taking in every detail of the place. The wooden ramparts built behind the walls, the number of buildings and vehicles, the stone paths, the tended gardens, the pathways towards possible exits.

The van stopped before a large courtyard. Half a dozen people had come to meet them. Men and women dressed in casual clothing, overalls, pants, sports vests. A ragtag bunch of survivors. The expressions on their faces fluctuated between skeptical and alarmed. The man behind the wheel, Nishino Tsukamu, got out. A glum, bulky man with a bald head. His companion Kitaoji Itsuki, who sat on the passenger seat, looked behind him at the three strangers scrunched together on the backseat of the van.

"As I told you before, we are a small peaceful community. People will ask questions but they don't mean any harm. They just need to know you're not a threat."

"You still have your head on your shoulders, don't you? I think we've proven ourselves." Sarutobi said.

"W-Well, Sa-Sarutobi-san is just kidding, isn't she?! Hahahahaha-ha-haha! What a kidder, you!" Shinpachi's nervous laugh did little to conceal his anxiety and he pinched Kagura's thigh in a bid for help, "Isn't Sarutobi-san hilarious, Kagura-chan?!"

"Y-Yeah, the life of the party!" Kagura said between gritted teeth, massaging the spot where Shinpachi had pinched her.

"You have a pretty dark sense of humor if you don't mind me saying so." Kitaoji said.

"I mind you trying to cozy up to us," Sarutobi replied spitefully, already several moves ahead, "When you're about to take away our weapons."

Kitaoji was silent for a moment. Shinpachi's fake chuckling ceased and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose at the same time as their benefactor.

"Yes. Toujou-san will ask you to relinquish your weapons. No person is allowed to carry weapons inside the estate without his permission."

"Is this Toujou your leader?" Sarutobi asked him.

"No. He's the acting overseer," Kitaoji replied, "He makes sure the estate runs according to our leader's wishes."

Sarutobi frowned.

"Your leader's wishes? What is this, a cult?"

"I would refrain from spouting every foolish thought that crosses your mind."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. We are very selective with the kind of people we welcome here. If you are not approved you will be turned out."

"So much for being a peaceful community." Sarutobi mumbled. She opened the door and got out.

Kitaoji watched her go in silence before turning towards the two remaining occupants of the backseat. He adjusted his glasses with his index finger and the light reflected on the lenses obfuscated his gaze.

"If you intend to stay, I would keep an eye on your friend." he said.

"We don-"

"Yes, of course. We're very sorry, Kitaoji-san!" Shinpachi interjected, "Please excuse Sarutobi-san's remarks. She has been through a lot recently. We won't waste the opportunity you're giving us. You have our deepest gratitude."

Shinpachi's hand found the back of Kagura's skull and he pressed her head down. Kagura bowed along with him and sputtered words out like a broken engine.

"T-thank yo-ou!"

Kitaoji nodded and they followed him out of the car to the center of the courtyard. Kagura elbowed Shinpachi as they walked. She leaned in to whisper in his ear, jaw tense with irritation.

"What do you think you're doing, kissing his ass like that!? Don't you have any pride?"

Shinpachi elbowed her back.

"The quicker we win their trust, the quicker we'll be able to gather enough supplies to go look for Gin-san and Hijikata-san."

"We were fine on our own!"

The small crowd that had gathered to meet them parted to let a tall man through. He cut a striking figure, neat and impeccably dressed. He wore a light green haori over a matching set of shirt and slacks, both clean and ironed. His blondish hair fell over his shoulders, combed and without a strand out of place. Whatever this community strove to be, Kagura had a hunch this man knew exactly what that was and she was sure too that running water and electricity were included in his plans.

"Welcome, friends. Welcome." the man said with open arms, "Welcome to the Yagyuu family estate. My name is Toujou Ayamu. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. It's not every day that these two dolts bring new people into the fold. You must be something."

"We sure are!" Kagura exclaimed.

Shinpachi's elbow shot out again.

"Zip it!"

"I would be most happy to invite you inside so we can have a proper chat. I only ask that you hand us your weapons first. Only appointed subjects may carry them inside the walls of the estate."

There was a brief pause at the word subjects which, by the way Toujou had spoken it, carried with it a bizarre, feudalistic meaning. Kagura and Shinpachi deferred to Sarutobi. The older woman was quiet for a moment. She did not contest the word but rather the reason Toujou had decided to use it in the first place.

"And who's the liege of all you, subjects?"

"Master Yagyuu of course." Toujou answered matter-of-factly, his eyes mere slits, perpetually narrowed in an unfathomable smile, "I'll be happy to answer all your questions, miss. But first, the weapons."

Toujou gestured toward the outstretched hands of his associates, Kitaoji and Nishino. The two approached Sarutobi and the kids with slow, deliberate steps.

"They will be returned to you in due time," Toujou said, "What's a pair of stinking blades compared to a pleasant meal and a hot bath?"

"A hot bath…" Sarutobi grumbled. Most of her words got lost in a mumble. She deposited her weapons into Nishino's big hands, the handle of her favorite knife half the size of his wrist.

Kagura and Shinpachi followed suit. Shinpachi unbuckled his knife holster and Kagura handed Kitaoji her grimy bat smeared with blood stains she had given up trying to wash out. Kitaoji's hand remained in the air. He threw a pointed look at the knife by her hip. Kagura fought the urge to roll her eyes and opted for a shy smile.

"I don't use this one so much, I forgot."

Kitaoji took the knife and shrugged unimpressed.

"Don't lose it. It's part of a set." Kagura added, dodging the finger Shinpachi tried to jab between her ribs.

"Don't fret, friends. After being out there for so long we understand how vulnerable you might feel without a way to defend yourselves. But inside these walls you have nothing to fear. These walls have protected the Yagyuu family for well over two hundred years. They will protect it a hundred more." Toujou's confident tone, though cold, offered a little compassion. Shinpachi and Kagura settled into a dumbstruck silence and huddled close together.

Toujou issued a few directions to Kitaoji and Nishino, thanked the curious onlookers for having come to receive the outsiders - though curiosity and apprehension had been the main reasons why they had bothered to come - and then he turned to the trio, that indecipherable smile pinned on his face.

"Please follow me."

Kagura tried to keep her mouth shut as Toujou led them through a maze of corridors and external halls. According to him, the estate boasted more than fifty rooms spread over six main buildings, three outdoor sheds and a large bathing facility. The property dated back to the days of the old samurai before the Meiji Restoration and most of the original blueprint and floor plans had been preserved in spite of all the technological implements and modifications sanctioned by past Yagyuu lords.

"It's almost as if the Young Master's ancestors were waiting for this very moment." Toujou cheered.

A growl spurred from Kagura's depths which had Shinpachi throwing her a cautious look over his shoulder. She shrugged, unsure whether the growl had come from hunger or indignation. She was hungry and Toujou's carefree figure unnerved her. His arrogant smile and pretentious attitude made her feel like an idiot, as did the reality of her surroundings - something other than the desolation and restlessness of life in the wild. Inside the walls of the Yagyuu estate people worked together, they laughed and talked in hushed voices, they walked past Kagura in the halls and gave out polite greetings, they shared duties, cleaning and cooking, they bickered over the proper way to dispatch a rotter. Children poked holes in paper screens to peek at her and her companions as they followed behind Toujou in a single file. Kagura's eyes were wet with tears by the time she had stopped walking.

"Cleanliness is a pillar of community life. I entreat you to make use of our bathing facilities," Toujou said, gesturing his hands towards the building before them, "An aide will be here shortly to escort you to the dining hall. In the meanwhile, I'll go make arrangements for your meal. Please make yourselves at home."

"We're much obliged, Toujou-san." Shinpachi replied with a full bow.

Kagura copied Sarutobi's short nod of gratitude and stood beside her as they watched Toujou disappear behind a corner. Sarutobi's unease was palpable. It brought Kagura's survival instincts back into gear. She wiped her glistening eyes with the back of her hand and took a deep breath to renew her strength.

"First subjects, now an aide. What's next? A jester and a monkey?" Kagura scoffed.

Shinpachi shot her his hundredth glare. Sarutobi's expression darkened.

"I don't like it either."

"The people who live here seem fine," Shinpachi blurted out, anxious to reason with the two pessimists, "We are in no position to judge them after being welcomed so kindly. Kitaoji-san had no obligation to bring us here when I asked for his help an-"

"Yeah, you did!"

"You know why I did it, Kagura-chan," Shinpachi replied, brows furrowed, "Did you suddenly forget a bunch of lunatics are after us? After Sarutobi-san?! This place seems structured and secure. We could do with some extra security."

"What I could do with right now was my bat so I could shove it up your a-"

"Stop it, you two," Sarutobi's calm voice put a stop to their fight. After a short pause she spoke again, hands clasped fast on Kagura and Shinpachi's shoulders, "If these people truly want to help us, good. They seem coordinated enough to know the lay of the land. When those two found us on the farmhouse they didn't expect to find us there. They must have been scouting the area. I'm not exactly sure what for, but given what we've seen here, I bet they are looking for places to farm and settle. That prissy guy talked big but it must not be easy to feed all these mouths. Did any of you count the number of people we saw on our way here?"

"About two dozen." Kagura said.

"Yeah, twenty or so." Shinpachi agreed.

"I counted thirty-six with the voices behind the walls. I'd wager there's about fifty or sixty people currently living at this place. Their food reserves must be low, they must have started thinking about how to manage in the long run. If they plan to live on this relic they need a fixed food source, there's only so many places they can loot in a secure enough radius. Otherwise they'll be forced to go far beyond their range, take long drives, and, when they run out of fuel, maybe two-day trips."

Shinpachi and Kagura nodded quietly. They had known Sarutobi the thief, Sarutobi the nurse, Sarutobi the bereaved, and now they were getting acquainted with Sarutobi the survivor. She had told the truth. Her time with the Sweepers had not been only one of regrets and violence but also of learning. It made Kagura wonder at the extent of the Sweepers' control. Sarutobi's expertise both amazed and horrified her. All Kagura had known of the world after being saved from the clutches of her brother had been to survive the day, to kill enough rotters to see the sun set and then rise, to tease Shinpachi and make faces behind Gintoki's back. Now there was no back for her to follow. Shinpachi's fingers laced with hers and Sarutobi's steady hand steered her towards a path she could not see clearly.

"They will try to persuade us with gifts, they will put on a show. But we must stay strong. We are here for information. As soon as we have that and our weapons we'll leave."

"I hope they have fried rice."

"Kagura-chan!"

"And beef jerky."

Kagura ate too much. She had always eaten too much even before the end of the world when food had not been so scarce, but her hosts had encouraged her to eat at her pleasure and after months of semi-starvation she lacked the mental fortitude to refuse their entreaty. At the back of her mind a tiny voice told her to be wary, to watch out for her stomach, to take care not to end up vomiting the feast offered to her. A voice she ignored.

She punched her chest to force a gigantic piece of poorly chewed meat down her throat and gulped down half a glass of water to settle it, burping with satisfaction before remembering that six other people were in the room with her. Most ignored her gag with scowls plastered on their faces but a small, elderly lady with half-lidded eyes stared at her with disgust. Kagura heard her click her tongue disapprovingly. She put down her chopsticks and uttered a half-hearted apology.

The old lady whispered in Toujou's ear but his subtle smile betrayed no reaction. Kagura was too high on protein and carbs to stay silent.

"Watwhazat?" she said with a mouthful of rice.

The elderly lady looked offended. Kagura swallowed and repeated her question.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?" Toujou asked, his tone cordial.

"I didn't ask you, I asked her. What was it you said to him after I apologized, old ha-"

"AHEM!" Shinpachi cleared his throat and in his desperation a pickle got stuck halfway through his windpipe. He burst into a fit of coughing, hands clutching at his neck. Kagura patted him on the back without success. Kitaoji rose to join her. The two began pounding Shinpachi's back like his spinal cord was made of bricks. Anguished cries blended in with Shinpachi's coughing. Toujou signaled a servant to bring him the kitchen tongs. The old lady beside him grumbled and called him a moron. She called back the servant and told him to forget Toujou's request and instead bring her a forceps. The servant was quiet for a moment before replying. His anxiety angered the old woman and she ordered him to blurt it out. He replied to her in a whisper that they had misplaced the forceps the previous day and nobody had found them yet. The old lady groaned aloud, Idiots, the lot of them! Then Sarutobi finished her drink and stood up. She got behind Shinpachi, put her arms around him, hands expertly positioned, and in one swift move had Shinpachi's pickle flying out of his mouth and into the lap of the old lady.

Silence befell the room as the old lady stared at the objectionable debris dribbling into the pink fabric of her robe. With unbelievable dexterity she flicked it into Toujou's left eye and the smiling man was smiling no more. He gasped and fussed, one hand covering half his face.

"Otaki-san!"

Lady Otaki did not budge. She held her ground as tightly as the grey hair she kept tied up in an immaculate bun on top of her head.

"Look what you brought into our esteemed house, Toujou! You're a disgrace! What do you expect of these people? They have no manners, no decorum! That young man just spit into my lap! That woman behind him spent the entire meal planning murder, I saw it behind her eyes. And the young one, oh! That one is beyond salvation! Burping at the table, speaking with her mouth full, addressing an elder before being addressed to! Oh, if Koshinori-sama were here, if he could see how you have sunk this place to the bottom! To the dregs, Toujou! The dregs!"

"Otaki-san, please don't tell the Young Master, I beg you!"

"Oh, you can be sure Master Kyuubei will know about this! The world may not be what it once was, but I'll be dead and buried before I let the dignity of the Yagyuu name fall this far."

"Dead and buried ain't much these days, you'll just crawl right out," Kagura noted, cheeks full, "I can stab your brains if you want, old hag. I could do it for- let's say uh, a bag of rice?"

"Shut up, Kagura-chan!"

"Insolent little wench!"

"What is going on here?"

The sliding panel doors behind Toujou and Otaki opened to reveal a short figure in an eyepatch with a long overcoat draped over their shoulders. Toujou, Otaki, Kitaoji and the flustered servant instantly fell to their knees and bowed.

"Young Master!"

"Master Kyuubei."

"Sir!"

"What is the meaning of all this racket?"

Otaki and Toujou both broke into long convoluted explanations for what had happened in the dining hall. Each tried to get a word in above the other and after thirty minutes of grueling accusations, most of which had nothing to do with the arrival of the three strangers sitting uncomfortably next to their meal trays, Kitaoji was able to provide Master Kyuubei with a reliable retelling of the facts.

Kyuubei had taken a seat between the two arguing heads of staff, overseer and matron. Kagura caught Kyuubei's right eye and scowled. The estate's leader did not look much older than Kagura herself.

"Where do you come from?" Kyuubei's voice was flat, serious, business-like.

Kagura opened her mouth to speak but Sarutobi replied before she could form the words.

"Your subjects found us near the farms out east."

Kyuubei's brow furrowed imperceptibly. They turned sideways to face Toujou who shifted in his seat.

"I told you to stop calling people that."

"B-but they are your subordinates, Young Master! You're not one of the rabble! We can't risk you losing your authority, nor the Yagyuu name its prestige."

"Hmph, the idiot speaks sense for once." Otaki muttered.

"Toujou, you will stop referring to people as rabble this instant."

"No, I will not, Young Master. So long as I am in charge of protecting you and this household I will act as I deem fit. The safest way to ensure the continuation of this estate and your rule is to instill people with purpose. The purpose of revering you, protecting you, being indebted to you. After all, you were the one who allowed them into our walls, you who gave them shelter, you who gave them solace. You are the one who said we should rebuild the world."

"Yes, Toujou, but not by manipulating people into servitude."

"Hush, Young Master. We have guests here with us. We can have this discussion later."

Kyuubei's right eye fell on the three people sitting opposite them. The smirk playing over Sarutobi's lips caught their eye.

"You did not answer my question, woman," Kyuubei snapped, "Where do you come from?"

"Bit tsundere for a world savior, don't ya think?" Sarutobi said, voice ripe with mockery.

"Your lives are on the line here!" Kyuubei said, cheeks flushed pink, "You answer my questions honestly or you go back the way you came."

"That's all we want. If you'll just return us our weapons we'll be gone and out of your hair." Sarutobi said with a repentant smile.

"You want to go back out there?" Kyuubei's expression betrayed more surprise than skepticism.

"I'm afraid you have a bath and a large meal to repay first," Toujou said, smile so wide his teeth showed, "Do you think we are stupid enough to offer random outsiders such fine commodities? You will work for the hot water you used and all the food you ate. I estimate that will be about four week's labor.

"Four weeks?!" Shinpachi exclaimed.

"You are out of your mind, you big sicko!" Kagura yelled out.

As she stood, everyone in the room rose except Kyuubei and Otaki. Toujou and Kitaoji pulled out their blades and Kagura heard Sarutobi hiss as her hands searched for weapons that weren't there.

"You think you can keep us here against our will?" Sarutobi snapped, the smirk all but gone from her face.

"Toujou might have been too hasty with his demands," Kyuubei said, "But you haven't given us much of a choice. You refuse to answer my questions, you eat our food and enjoy our comforts, yet you offer nothing in return. You are like all the savages out there. Believe me when I say we have no interest in keeping you here. You will pay your debts and go. We will return you your weapons then."

"Four weeks," Kagura's hands clenched into fists, "We don't have four weeks!"

"You certainly had the appetite for a four-week meal." Otaki mumbled bitterly.

"Is it the truth you want?" Shinpachi's voice came forth, loud and firm, if it wavered it was only on account of the friends he had left behind to perish at the shrine, "My name is Shimura Shinpachi, I'm twenty-three years old. Born and raised in Tokyo's Kabuki District. I was watching a rare taping of Otsuu-chan's summer concert when it all happened. After the government's final announcement I left the house to meet my sister and have been looking for her ever since. Me, Kagura and Gin-san spent months searching for her until we met Hijikata-san. We found out he had come from the same place my sister was at. We were heading there when we crossed paths with Sarutobi-san and... we…" his voice faltered as he recalled their time at the shrine, Hattori's decline, the hammering at the gates, "We don't want to be here. We want to go back out there. We have people waiting for us. People who need our help. Friends-"

"Family." Kagura said.

"Yes, family," Shinpachi nodded and drew a soft smile, "When Nishino-san and Kitaoji-san found us I couldn't believe it. We had just escaped from a horde of rotters with our lives after being holed up in a shrine on the other side of that mountain-"

"A horde?" Kitaoji's eyes widened and narrowed, he turned to Kyuubei and Toujou alarmed, "Nabari's horde… it moved?"

"There's a town on the other side of that mountain, Nabari," Kyubeei said, gaze piercing Shinpachi's, "Are you saying the horde nesting in Nabari moved up the mountain?"

Shinpachi nodded.

"How is that possible?"

Shinpachi's mouth opened and closed looking for the best way to answer without giving too much away. Sarutobi spared him the effort.

"Wind currents? Thunder? A fire? Who knows. Why are the dead coming back to life? If we had an answer for everything we wouldn't be here that's for sure."

"What about those friends of yours? What happened to them?" Kyuubei asked.

"We have no idea. We lost contact." Shinpachi replied, his shoulders round and tense.

"We have to go back there." Kagura insisted.

Toujou shook his head.

"To a mountain full of creepers?"

"Yes."

"No." Sarutobi spoke over Kagura's voice with vehemency, "What we want is to find the nearest government shelter. Shinpachi-kun's sister is at one of those places. I mean to take him and Kagura-chan there. No offence to your royal hospitality."

Kyuubei and Toujou traded glances. Kyuubei nodded, giving Toujou permission to disclose further information.

"So far as we know most government shelters fell."

A heavy silence fell on the room. Kagura, who had been waiting for an opportunity to contradict Sarutobi and redefine their priorities, was too stunned to speak. She sought Shinpachi's gaze and found nothing but empty, watering eyes. She held his arm and felt a trembling hand close over hers.

"What's the nearest one?" Sarutobi asked.

"Osaka's."

"Is it still standing?"

"No. Neither is the one in Kyoto," Toujou replied solemnly, "Rumors say people managed to take refuge in the old castle but if they are still alive there's no way of getting them out. The city is swarming with undead, a horde the likes of which you've never seen. Same thing in Osaka and Kobe. You should try going north to Shiga."

"There's a settlement to the northwest of lake Biwa." Kyuubei said.

"Young Master!" Toujou's admonition fell on deaf ears.

"It's the only place we're in contact with." Kyuubei confessed.

Kagura started. She looked sideways at Shinpachi and, seeing the same shimmer of hope in his eyes, they both turned to Sarutobi. Her walls were still up, that impenetrable mask she wore to dull herself to any outside interference persevered.

"What do you mean you're in contact with them?" Sarutobi asked.

"Two of the people currently living here came from that settlement." Kyuubei explained.

"Why? Did you force them to stay? Are you holding them hostage in exchange for supplies or something?"

"No, they actually like it here," Kyuubei replied, voice flat and tired, "They came with a scouting group from Biwa looking for survivors in the fringes of the big cities. They found us."

"Where's us?"

"Eastward of Nara."

Sarutobi's questions came one after the other and Kyuubei endured them patiently, determined not to lose face. Shinpachi's outburst seemed to have won them some degree of respect and consideration and Kagura figured it was in Kyuubei's best interests to befriend three people who had no qualms facing the hardships of the world outside the ancient walls of the Yagyuu's safe haven.

"How long would it take us to get to the lake Biwa settlement?"

"By car I'd say about two hours," it was Toujou who replied, more acquainted with the logistics of the query, "Some roads aren't safe to travel so you have to take detours."

"It would be wisest to go with their caravan," Kitaoji added, "They stop by about once a month."

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind taking you with them at my bequest." Kyuubei said.

"Thank you, Master Kyuubei." Shinpachi bowed out of gratitude as much as politeness.

"When is the next caravan scheduled to arrive?" Sarutobi pressed on.

"Next week if the crew finds no trouble on the way."

"A week?!"

Shinpachi's hand found Kagura's back. He patted her lightly, sharing her heartache.

"It's better than four, Kagura-chan." he said.

Kyuubei stood and flicked the luscious ponytail that had slid over their shoulder.

"You should rest. Tomorrow Kitaoji and Nishino are going back to the farms. They are surveying the place, seeing how much work needs to be done so we can move a few people there to farm. You may go with them if you want. Help them clear the farms of those walking corpses. You'll be able to check if there's any sign of your friends or whether the mountain is still infested. However, if it's the Nabari horde you got up there, I fear it won't be a pretty sight to see," Kyuubei's right eye contemplated the faces of the people across the room and then fell on Sarutobi's, "Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes, thank you," Sarutobi said, lowering her head just enough to appease her host, "We'll be glad to have our weapons back for that excursion."

"Yes, they will. But not you. You will stay here with me."

Darkness met Gintoki under the bridge. Rats scuttered by his feet, the sound of rushing water grazed his ears. His knees met the ground. His body gave up. Despair pulled him down harder than gravity. In the place where he had left Hijikata lay a wasted body. Its head had been separated from the neck in a clean cut that showed the bloody center of the spine. Gintoki could not raise his eyes to search for its head. Guilt and regret hung around his neck like a noose. He stared at the patterns strewn on the gravel, the little dots of green where fresh grass willed itself to grow.

The evidence was in front of him. He was tired, cold, numb, hungry, but the ability to acknowledge facts was not beyond him, not when facts pointed to the exact opposite of what he had wanted to come back to: Hijikata breathing, alive, cursing him. The disparity between reality and hope had not affected Gintoki so brutally since finding Katsura's body swinging from a rope. He still had nightmares about Katsura's swaying feet, the stretch of his shadow at dusk, his empty beady eyes. Gintoki refused to look into those eyes again. Fear be damned, he would not let his heart break again.

He picked himself up and turned away from the dead headless body. His eyes searched for the head unconsciously swerving towards the river bank but necessity kept him in check. His creature side controlled him. He needed food, he needed warmth, he needed to get away from the rain. It had been pouring for hours and the dark clouds above gave no sign of letting up even though the worst had passed. The skies were shifting. The faint rumbling of thunder could be heard from afar now, with a prolonged interval holding peace between flash and boom.

Gintoki wrapped the piece of tarp he had brought for Hijikata around himself and left the suffocating spot under the bridge. When he had left it before he had rushed away in search of medical supplies or something warm and dry he could cover Hijikata with, maybe some sort of vehicle to carry him. But he had found very little. The sudden downpour had slowed him down. The thick mantle of rain had lowered his visibility and, more than once, had driven him into lone groups of creepers that shuffled along the roads on the outskirts of the town. The few cars he had stumbled upon had been locked and without key. The buildings he'd passed had been shut or surrounded by too many rotters for him to take on his own. Then at last he had come upon a gas station. An abandoned truck with a flapping tarp had called his attention by the pumps as well as an overturned wheelbarrow by the coal box. It hadn't been much but, sapped of most of his strength, the urgency to bring the items back to Hijikata had been enough to fuel Gintoki's journey back. Only he had not accounted for the worst to happen. He had thought his threat to have been insurance enough, his theft reason enough to have Hijikata wait for him even in hell. He had been wrong.

It was almost nightfall when Gintoki found his way to the gas station again. He wandered aimlessly after leaving the bridge, treading along without a course to follow, until his feet led him to the gas station. The gate of the car repair service garage was stuck close but the side door was open. Gintoki checked the area for creepers and entered. The smell of gasoline and car oil clogged every inch of the place. Gintoki tapped on the walls, on the dirty counters and on the hood of a car that would never see itself assembled. Nothing responded to his calls. In the dimness of twilight he tried to take note of his surroundings, he groped the walls for switches that didn't work and the counters and tool cabinets for matches or lighters. He found a flashlight inside a cupboard and proceeded to lock himself inside the place. He pushed a desk against the garage's side door, double checked the small accounting office for bodies and finally, armed with a rusty L-shaped lug wrench, collapsed in the backseat of the disassembled car which the mechanics had laid against a sooty wall of the garage.

He did not sleep much. He woke just as tired and miserable as he had been when he had laid down. In fact, he felt worse for waking. His body was sore all over. He'd rather not have woken up at all. He wished he could have been transported to whatever came next. Something other than life. Sadly, and against all odds, he was still there at that smelly garage. The stench of petrol had him up on his feet. He coughed. Faint light streamed in from narrow windows and filtered brown through thick layers of grime and dust. The air felt unbreathable. Gintoki hugged the tarp around himself. The cold of dawn ran shivers through him. A part of his clothes still hung damp and cold to his skin. A reminder of what he had not been able to run away from. His stomach groaned with hunger. He pushed back the desk that kept the front door shut and took a peek outside. Blue and orange hues mixed together across a clear morning sky. Two growlers straggled down the road past the gas station. Gintoki waited for them to leave before exiting.

He took the lug wrench he had clung to in his sleep and made for the gas station's convenience store. The cashier rose convulsing from behind the counter, movements lagging like a bad emulator game. Gintoki swung the lug wrench directly into the back of its skull and the cashier flattened on the floor with one last spasm. Gintoki drew his eyes away from the ring on the cashier's left hand. His thumb brushed the one he had hooked on his own finger and he carried on.

The shelves were empty. Swept clean. A thorough job from Hattori's friends before they had called the horde into town - produced it. Gintoki hadn't missed the stab wounds in the cashier's back, the pool of dark, dry blood where its body had laid before Gintoki had aroused it from its dead stupor.

Gintoki looked under upturned racks for overlooked items, reached under the fridges for cans and bottles that might have rolled out of sight. He found enough sugary drinks and non-perishable food to quench his hunger, though he hadn't realized the true extent of it until he had gulped down enough cans of lychees, boiled eggs and foul-smelling cooked mackerel to vomit everything back out.

He sat with legs spread wide open on the linoleum floor of the station's convenience store, a puddle of vomit in front of him, when a shadow moved behind him. Gintoki barely heard footsteps. When he turned around a specter stared back at him. Hair pale and wavy, heavy lids over his eyes, dark circles underneath them. He wore a long robe like a priest's. Gintoki didn't have time to register further details. He slipped a hand into the puddle of his own vomit and flicked it into the stranger's face. A spray of half-chewed lychees and mackerel pulp splattered all over the man's robe. The man did not flinch. He did not raise his arms to deflect the spatter. Gintoki grabbed his L-shaped lug wrench and stepped back ready to lunge, however, when he looked into the man's eyes he saw them looking back.

"What are you?" Gintoki had not spoken in a while. His voice cracked.

The man stared at him without reply. Gintoki saw the vomit dripping from the man's robe. He noticed the man's bare feet, dirty and crusted. When the man stepped in Gintoki's direction he made no noise. He reached out a hand. Gintoki was frozen in place. The man touched Gintoki's face and his hand was cold. A beaded necklace hung wrapped around his knuckles.

Morning light shone on the empty fridges of the aisle. A strange picture reflected on their doors. Two profiles facing each other. The same face, the same hollow look.

Fear gripped Gintoki's gut. The corners of the man's lips were smudged black. An upsetting odor came from his mouth. Gintoki saw the future in front of him. A man dead but alive. Empty. Not just a growling carcass waiting for someone to pierce its brain and put it to rest.

"Get off." Gintoki brushed the man's hand away. The man did not react.

"Get the fuck away from me."

Gintoki jammed one end of the lug wrench into the man's chest and pulled him back.

"I'm not looking for company." Gintoki told him.

The man's eyes fell on Gintoki's grip. Hijikata's silver wedding band shone bright around his finger. What followed happened in less than a second. The man pulled out a knife towards Gintoki's hand and Gintoki stepped back alarmed, almost sliding on his own vomit.

The man's expression had changed. His pupils blew wide. He advanced toward Gintoki deranged, slashing the air over and over, backing Gintoki into a wall. Gintoki managed to throw an overturned shelf in his path. He climbed over it and ran towards the exit, heart at his throat. Then a fat whack sounded in his ears. He doubled over gasping. The lug wrench slipped from his fingers. The man's knife had found his shoulder. Gintoki fell to his knees and groaned through searing pain as he tried to pull the knife out with trembling hands. From the corner of his eyes he saw the man march down the aisle in long strides, the hem of his robe flowing about his feet, face spilling pure hatred.

The man opened his mouth as he approached. An indescribable sound came from it. He had no tongue, only a tainted black hole. Gintoki managed to pull out the knife from his shoulder but the man's hands had closed around his neck. He squeezed hard and Gintoki twitched. Air escaped from his lungs, his heartbeat drummed in his ears. He saw hell in the man's eyes. Kamui choking Kagura. Katsura's teeth clack rotten above him. Soyo's small lifeless body lying in the ground before he had buried her. Hijikata's body under the bridge split in two.

The man's fingers tightened. Gintoki's knees jerked. He saw a glimpse of heaven. Kagura's grin as he unknowingly gave her his share of their food. Shinpachi's smile as he drew a caressing thumb over the photo of his sister. Hijikata's hand squeezing Gintoki's own, their fingers intertwined.

Gintoki clasped the bloody knife he had pulled from his shoulder and swung it upwards. Droplets of blood fell on his face as he carved a long gash across the man's face. The man winced and withdrew, howling like a beast. Gintoki inhaled deeply, free of the man's deadly grasp. He looked at his bloody hands, at the edge of the knife, and saw his grip was steady. He had never felt calmer. He saw what he had to do. Hope had built a path of purpose before him no obstacle could thwart. He had to return to that bridge. He had to go back. Make certain. He had to find the kids. What was he doing wasting time fighting a ghost? He had allowed himself to be blinded by anguish for nothing. For a rest stop in limbo. A parade of his fears.

Gintoki got up and tucked the bloodied knife in his belt. He grabbed the lug wrench he had dropped earlier and smacked the man across the head. The man tumbled down unconscious.

"This ring isn't yours for the taking, priest. Ain't really mine either."

Gintoki looked out towards the station's gas pumps. His scuffle had brought the attention of nearby rotters. Already a group of six gathered in the direction of the convenience store, yet the sight did not disturb him. Nothing had ever seemed as easy as overcoming it. Gintoki walked over to the spoiled corpse of the cashier and drew the blade of the unconscious priest through its stomach. Blood spilled dark and gleaming. Gintoki bathed in it. He smeared handfuls of it over his face, ran his fingers through his hair. When he left the gas station he looked no more the priest's reflection but his demon.

The rotters welcomed him with joyful neglect. Gintoki walked between them and patted the last one on the back. The gesture brought the creeper's inquiring face his way. Gintoki allowed it to get close and he took notice of the matte, dirty, blond hair framing its once young, unblemished face.

You forget there are no innocent people now. That's why you fail. You won't be able to see the future we're making.

Gintoki looked down at the creeper's garments. A dirty blouse, patched jeans. No guns. It would have been too good to be true. Gintoki stood still and waited for the creeper to turn back. The rest of its group had reached the convenience store's entrance and were clustering at the door, thumping against the glass panels. Gintoki wondered if the priest would wake in time to be spared.

The blond creeper went to join her brethren and Gintoki bade the station a silent goodbye. He had an eerie feeling it would not be the last time he saw the priest, yet he shrugged the thought aside, distraught by the throbbing wound on his shoulder. Blood ran down his arm and had begun to drip from his fingers to the ground. Gintoki glanced at the garage and wondered for a moment if it was worth a second look for anything resembling gauze and alcohol, yet the low growls of another batch of incoming guests urged him in a different direction. He followed the road to the bridge, one arm clutching the other as the stab wound festered.

He was well on his way when he found a dirt path to the river. He took it, careful to remain under cover of shrubs and trees, and hurried to the water, eager to clean his wound. He tried to take off his shirt but it was impossible. Despite his groans, deep breaths and biting his tongue, he could not do it. Pain flared all over his arm and up his neck. He had to rip his shirt off. His left hand worked slowly and ineptly at it but after a few attempts and superficial cuts, he was able to cut off his right sleeve and tear open the collar of his shirt. He washed the wound with water and wrapped it with strips he'd made of his undershirt, the cleanest one he had. Then he put on the pieces of bloodstained clothing that still fitted him and zipped up his jacket.

When he finally returned to the bridge he breathed a sigh of relief. The headless body lay where he had last seen it. He kneeled beside it and checked its feet. Sneakers. He checked its hands. There was no white circle under the ring finger. He inspected the river bank for the head. It had rolled down into a crevice. Gintoki poked at it with the lug wrench until the face had turned its way. The mouth moved, the beady eyes searched the sky for a drop of nourishment. Gintoki stooped low, crawled over the rocks and stuck his knife into the poor bastard's skull. The jaws froze in place. The mouth stopped moving.

He sat back to recover his breath and somehow he laughed. Despite the ache in his shoulder, he laughed until he was gasping for breath and spitting the lingering aftertaste of his vomit. As the laughter subsided, he tried to put his mind back on track. He tried to focus on the next step. Everything had seemed so clear at the gas station with his life on the line. He struggled to find that certainty again. It was harder to decide when he was alone, stranded in the middle of nowhere, under that damn bridge again.

He approached the river to dispel his doubts. The water was clear. Little black fishes swam back and forth, their lives busy and unchanged, laying eggs, building gravel nests, feeding. The reeds swayed gently in the breeze, lulled by the river current. Everything green looked greener after the storm. The cloudless, blue skies showered the land with light and energy. Gintoki saw his reflection on the water surface. His true self. Not an hallucination, not a ghost, not a lunatic priest. Just his face smeared with blood. He washed it, scrubbed his eyes and his mouth clean. The little black fishes darted away. When the surface of the water stilled again he saw a face he recognized. Sakata Gintoki's. It looked older, wearier. He felt ashamed of himself. How had people followed that face, laughed and cried with it? Loved it? How had that face dared to love anything in return?

He thought of the priest. The mouth without a tongue. Unable to talk. To connect. Perhaps willingly so. Had Gintoki imagined him? Had he dreamt it all? Was he still at the car garage sleeping? He wanted to wake up. Desperately. He wanted to be among people. His people. His family. The thought of them comforted him. The kids had escaped towards the farms. They needed him. He would find Hijikata and go after them. Yes, that was it. That was the purpose.

He returned to the spot under the bridge where he had left Hijikata and began putting two and two together. If the headless corpse was not Hijikata's, there were only two possibilities. One, Hijikata had turned and was wandering the area for food. Two, he had escaped on his own.

Gintoki twirled the ring on his finger, ignoring the pang of dread at the first possibility.

The rain had failed to wash a trail of footprints on the gravelly path under the bridge. Gintoki recognized two different pairs of feet. One smaller and one larger. Neither had blood marks. He put his booted foot over the larger and found no match. His pulse picked up. A third possibility arose which he had not foreseen.

Hijikata had been taken away. Maybe captured. Maybe saved. Gintoki followed the direction of the footprints and sure enough, soon after they disappeared, he found a trail of blood on the road above the bridge. Little drops dotted the pavement. Gintoki followed them until they stopped abruptly. Tire marks led him in a single direction. Gintoki smiled. Whether that direction led him to success or failure, one thing he knew. If Hijikata was alive he would come back for his ring.