The next time he woke, his nose felt even worse than before. The lack of airflow passing through his blocked nostrils had developed a permanent wedge of hardened blood in there. His lips were parted, tongue dry in his mouth. He didn't usually sleep with his mouth gaping open but evidently it was that or cease breathing. By his bed was a fresh glass of water and two white pills. He decided he did not need any more relief, so he gratefully gulped the water down without the pills. It was time to get out of bed. He committed himself to swinging both legs out and yelped instantly. Maybe such rapid movements were unwise. The ribs on his left side were undoubtedly broken. He didn't need to feel across his torso to know there was blue-black swelling there. His lungs ached. Looking down, he saw that his chest had been tightly bound in bandages. The outer edges had a slight rosy sheen which he guessed was some sort of balm which had been applied prior to the bandages. It felt weird knowing that Gintoki-fellow had undressed him, smoothed ointment onto his chest and then wound him up like a mummy without Hijikata even being aware of it. He was only comforted by the deftness by which it has been done, which suggested the man was trained in medical care to some degree. He was even dressed in fresh clothes, something akin to pyjamas: thick cotton shorts and matching t-shirt. It seemed he hadn't changed his underwear – Hijikata was thankful he was spared that shame. In the corner of the room, a familiar set of uniform hung to dry. He pondered a while – what uniform was it? His mind recognised it as his own, but no other memories came flooding in to support his recollection.

Steadily, he leaned onto his feet, transferring his weight as slow as his patience would allow until he was standing. The room was still that almost-darkness, despite the fact it must have been many hours later. Was it still nighttime? He wasn't sure. There was only one exit from the room, and that was a spiral staircase leading upwards where a dim natural light seemed to emit from. He decided to follow it.

If sailing in a ship close to shore during a storm had been a bad idea, he wondered if climbing a spiral staircase with broken ribs was on par. The pain in his ribs burned sharply with each step, jabbing him at unexpected moments with even greater pain. He'd already made it up half of the steps though and could see the next landing almost within reach. If he was an idiot for starting the endeavour, he would be more of an idiot for turning around now. As his head rose above the level of the floor to the next level, he could see that this room had windows. Tiny windows with thick, almost opaque glass, but still windows. That was what let the morning light permeate into the room. He could see the dust dancing in the streaks of sunlight. The room he had just left was a bedroom/ study area, and this one was perhaps a lounge or reception. Though the spiral staircase continued to climb at the other end of the room, there was another doorway – large, oak, and with a ring of outdoor light casting a yellow halo. At the opposite side was an unlit fireplace with a gathering of high-backed red chairs. The fabric on the joints of the wooden legs was worn back; some cat-like scratchings on one side and a smattering of darkened stains betrayed the age of this furniture. A deep crimson rug sat before the fireplace.

He took a moment to catch his breath – not because he was out of breath, particularly, but because if he breathed any heavier than needed, the pain was excruciating. It was best to keep his heart rate down. As he did so, he became aware of padded footsteps gently descending. He assumed it was Gintoki and noticed the cat-like quietness of his movements.

"Oh," he said with that soft drawl, "You're awake." At that moment, Hijikata's stomach committed an act of ultimate betrayal. He blushed bright red. Gintoki laughed heartily. "It's not often a Lighthouse Keeper has company. Luckily the food delivery was only last week, so there's enough for two and I can get them to bring another delivery soon. Do you like pancakes?"

"Do you have mayo?"

"What sort of godforsaken topping is that for pancakes?"

"The best one."

"Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought." Gintoki shook his head and turned on his heels. "Wait here. Take a seat. It won't take long."

Hijikata was loathe to return to being sedentary after what his body told him was a long, long time in bed. Instead, he chose to wander around the room. There was plenty to keep his eyes entertained. By the doorway - which he assumed to be the entrance to the lighthouse - was a key cabinet holding scores of keys. The next section of wall had images of various flags printed and stacked from floor to ceiling. It appeared they were there for practical purposes, rather than decoration. They'd been stuck on haphazardly with blue-tac and some tilted at irregular angles. Each flag seemed to represent a letter of the alphabet or a number. Bright yellows, reds and blues distinguished each unique flag. Beside them was another massive cabinet. Strewn across the shelves was a chaotic array of objects. He saw seashells with unusual colours, a golden box housing an old compass, a broken lantern, a conch, a collection of coins which Hijikata couldn't recognise, some brass weighing scales, a vase… the more he looked, the more he found to see. Most of them were faded in colour and had bright green limescale creeping along the joints and knobs. Almost all were rusty and layered with dust.

The walls behind all these objects looked like they had once been painted, but never a second time. Some of the wall was white, but across most of it, the paint had flaked and peeled to reveal grey stone. There were many clocks, devices, barometers. He didn't really know what all of them did. A well-varnished oar was fixed high on one wall, almost touching the ceiling. A row of decanters and empty crystal glasses scattered one shelf. The bookshelf was enormous and took up the remainder of the room. It was a rectangular object in a circular room, so it didn't really seem to fit the space. In the gap behind the bookshelf were the tail ends of another set of mysterious items hidden away: carpet rolls, blankets, and something that looked suspiciously like a skull.

It was only when his ribs were really starting to pound at him that he decided to take a seat and lowered himself into one of the chairs facing the fire. He sank into it, immediately comforted by the well-worn cushioning and cocooned by the high back which folded round to the sides of his head. He made the mistake of closing his eyes for a second, head rested against the chair back….

"Here's your damned mayonnaise," Gintoki lowered a tray onto the low table between them and set about separating the items. Hijikata snapped awake and tried to look alert. Gintoki had brought a pot of hot tea and now began to pour – first Hijikata's cup and then his own. "I can't believe you're about to ruin my perfect pancakes with that crap."

"You don't look like the chef-type, how're these so damn fluffy?" Hijikata could not hide his surprise. The burly man didn't look like he'd be the type to whip up the fluffy, evenly cooked pancakes that now sat before him, the scent making his mouth water. He looked more like a beans-on-toast or starve-to-death sort of guy.

"Living on your own does that to you. If you want to eat good food, you've got to cook it. And I've got all the time in the world to learn." Hijikata raised the hot brew to his lips and sniffed – jasmine tea, probably.

"How long have you lived on your own?"

"Two years." Hijikata spat out the tea right back into the cup. Gintoki pretended not to notice and began munching happily on pancakes laden with strawberries and cream.

"Two years? Alone?"

"Yep."

"I assume you have visitors?"

"The warden brings deliveries and occasionally stops by for visits, and there's an old lady in the next town over that likes to come bother me."

"Family?"

"Don't have none."

"Friends?"

Gintoki paused chewing to eye Hijikata. There was a slight ice to his expression. "Perhaps not a topic for a second conversation between strangers, hm?"

"You're right," Hijikata swallowed his eyebrows back onto his face and gathered himself. "Sorry, I was just surprised."

"Forgiven," he said, easily, and continued like nothing had occurred between them. "I've contacted the warden for my next food delivery to come a week earlier. That means we can use double the food I've got allocated and not be concerned. I suspect by the time he arrives you'll be well enough to hitch a ride with him back to the local town. From there, you can make your way home."

"Home…" The word pooled in Hijikata's frontal lobe and brought up no emotions, no memories. He drew a blank. "I'm not sure I'd know where to go."

"Not yet. I'm sure it will come back to you. And if not, what an opportunity to forget your worries and go forge a new life. There're some pretty women in the nearest village, despite how rural and incestuous it is round here. Get yourself a pretty wife. They'll love the fresh genetics to spice up the village. Settle down, farm the fields. Farmherfields." Hijikata was beginning to notice that Gintoki's way of speaking was rather whimsical and always light-hearted. For a guy that had lived alone for two years, he knew how to banter and how to make a person feel at ease. He seemed quite sociable by nature, which made Hijikata all the more curious at how he had become such a recluse.

"Do you have a wife?"

"A partner? Married to the job, I'm afraid. I would ask if you had one, but you wouldn't remember." Hijikata took a moment to inspect his fingers and didn't see any trace of a ring.

"I don't think so."

"Judging by the scars on you, I don't think you've got a partner. I'd say you're married to the job as well."

"I can't remember which job, though."

"The Shinsengumi," Gintoki explained, and the words seemed to click in place. "I hung the uniform up to see if it prompted your memory. Evidently not. It's the uniform of the Shinsengumi. You probably came here from Edo."

"I think that's right."

"Your ID says that you're the vice-commander."

Hijikata nodded and realised that he was not surprised. It seemed right again.

"Well anyway," Gintoki sucked the remaining cream off his fingers and popped them from his mouth. "Another two weeks and you can leave here. I could try and contact the village to get you a lift sooner, but I assume those ribs will want some time to recuperate."

Hijikata wondered to himself if that was the only reason his departure had been scheduled so late. He wondered if the man was craving company. Two years, alone. How could anyone cope?

"What do you usually do round here?" Hijikata blurted, hoping retrospectively that he didn't sound rude again.

"Well, there's work to do. Replenishing the fuel, trimming the wicks, cleaning the windows and lenses for the light. Record keeping, reading the weather, communicating with ships via light signals if they're not too dumb to read them." When he said that, he gave a pointed look at Hijikata, who assumed they had ignored whatever light signals Gintoki had been sending their ship the other night. Gintoki continued, "When there's a storm I keep a weathered eye on the maniacs still out there sailing. When there's good weather, I go for walks in the hills, kick it on the beach, sometimes fish. There's a library on the next floor up that could entertain me for another two years if I wanted. The kitchen is one up from that if you get peckish, by the way. Hmmm, I go to the village market once a month..." He paused, searching his mind for more of his daily activities and seemingly drawing a blank. Hijikata couldn't help but think how droll it all sounded. He tried to control his facial expression, hoping his eyebrows weren't betraying his thoughts.

"It sounds… peaceful." He managed to say. "Will you do this forever?"

"My stint is due to end soon. I've got to decide if I want to extend or go back to Edo."

"What will you do if you leave?"

"A very good question." Gintoki hummed, vaguely. "You're full of those, Mr Policeman."

"I suppose it must be part of the occupation."

They finished their plates in mutual silence, both staring blankly into the unlit fireplace as the sound of wind outside began to pick up. It made Hijikata feel uneasy. Not the silence between them, but the way his mind began to imagine nothingbutsilence. This is what Gintoki surrounded himself with all the time. The fireplace was curiously clean – the wood was fresh, unsinged. Hijikata knew it was March – he'd seen the date scrawled on a letter on Gintoki's desk. Surely over winter he had lit the fire, yet it was clean. There was no mountain of ash sat in the bottom – it had all been scraped away. Perhaps he had recently scrubbed it, but Hijikata sensed this was not the case. He wondered how often Gintoki had sat in front of an unlit fireplace, gazing into the back of it with nothing but the wind to keep him company, hearing just the clunk of the grandfather clock, not even bothering to light the wood – he could do without the warmth, without the comfort. He would put on a thicker jumper to starve off the cold, just enough to prevent him from shivering. Never warm enough to be truly comfortable.

He subtly glanced in the man's direction. His eyes were lost in thought. It was probably easy for him to sink into himself. He lived in that state. One could go mad with loneliness, and it was quite possible Gintoki probably was one or both. His skin had the ruggedness of someone that lived by the sea, though his stubble had been shaved away today. Just visible above his jumper neck was a pink scar which was probably years old. Meanwhile, the scratches and marks on his hands could have been any number of days old. He guessed that some of the smoother, darker ones had been there before his lighthouse job, and some of the bright pink knicks as new as yesterday. Perhaps that was why he had still not tended to the fresh blemish on his palm. It probably grew tiresome to treat every cut when he was clearly picking up new lacerations in his skin every day.

Gintoki's eyes closed, and that gave Hijikata the freedom to openly stare. He had much more he wanted to read from the man's body. Gintoki was choosing to be obtuse in his words, so all Hijikata could do to understand him was read the story of his body – a story he could not mask with dead eyes. The man breathed softly, leading Hijikata to wonder if he was drifting off to sleep. Like his earlier muted footsteps, his breath was almost unnoticeable. He looked comfortable, which brought Hijikata back to his earlier stream of thought. The clothes he was wearing looked tough and well-worn, but uncomfortable – the jumper thick, but seemingly a prickly material. He'd rolled up the sleeves to his elbows and there were dark smudges of an oily substance on his forearms where clearly, he'd washed his hands clean to cook but had forsaken the rest. The threadbare navy-blue fabric had holes sewn back together with a deft hand, but not a considerate enough one to select the uniform thread colour. An even darker navy set of trousers were thick and rugged, turned up at the bottom. It was at this point Hijikata glanced back up at Gintoki's face and locked onto bright red eyes staring straight back.

Gintoki said nothing, but opposite him his patient sucked in a breath. He had been caught staring and now knew not what to say. The long silence only begged an explanation from Hijikata's lips; one he was unwilling to grant. He chose to stare back, face him head on. Afterall, Gintoki had been looking, too.

Gintoki was the first to break their stalemate and turned back to the fire, his expression still unchanged. "I've got some work to do upstairs. If you fancy getting out and about this afternoon, I'll be taking the boat out onto the water for a while. Don't push yourself though." And with that announcement, he stood and quit the room, the spiral staircase elongating his departure, painfully.

Once he was safely gone, Hijikata face burned, and he dropped his head into his hands.