Chapter Text
Takasugi wakes up to immense, blinding pain. He had been expecting Hell, but he should have realized; just like Sensei, he’ll never get off that easy.
On the battlefield, it was the stench of blood that roused him like a hungry beast; on Rakuyo, thick red dust choked him awake; on the ship it was Utsuro, clawing at his consciousness until he opened his eyes. This time, it’s the blooming pain like a drop of blood in water that brings him back to life.
He creaks one eye open to blinding white light, and briefly entertains the thought that he might be in heaven instead. He laughs silently. Only his heaven would hurt this badly.
When he adjusts to the light, he realizes where he really is. A hospital room.
Takasugi jolts up so quickly every point of pain screams at him, protesting when he clutches at his stomach. White bandages cover him absolutely everywhere, and he doesn’t know what he wants, doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he claws at the pristine edges searching for it. One of the bandages finally tears and warmth spills out over his fingers. He pulls his hand back, unable to comprehend what's dripping off it. He's bleeding.
It’s not until that moment that he hears the silence in his own mind. When he scours his brain for that constant, decaying presence of Utsuro—he finds nothing. His mind reels. The memories from the moment he shut his eyes in Gintoki’s arms are pitch black, dripping dread into the hollow of his chest.
If there’s no Utsuro, if there’s no Shouyou, then why the hell is he still alive? I cannot save you, isn’t that what you said?!
He doesn’t realize he’s doubled over until his hand presses back against his wound. Underneath his palm he feels his racing pulse, for the first time in years.
Something hits the floor, and he looks up to see one of Gintoki's kids, the glasses one—"T-Takasugi-san," the kid stutters. If the kid was here, then—he follows his darting gaze, and finds Gintoki.
In the chair next to him, asleep. Lazy bastard.
Seeing Gintoki feels like salt pouring directly into all his wounds. He finally manages a full deep breath. He sets his gaze on the boy—Shinpachi, he thinks. "Be quiet. Don’t wake him up," his voice rasps. The kid stares back at him with watery eyes.
Takasugi clutches at his stomach again, digging his fingers in, "Tell me what happened."
—
While Takasugi slept, it was Oboro's voice in his dreams.
Do what you want. Save Sensei, he said. I'll save you.
—
Gintoki held his smile until Takasugi's eyes closed, and lasted one, two seconds clutching his body before the tears started falling. It was instantly hard to breathe, each inhale one step away from a hysterical sob.
He leaned over Takasugi's body and hid his face in the crook of his neck. The stench of copper blood filled his head and blacked out his vision, but he pressed as close as he could, fists so tight in Takasugi's kimono it hurt. Tears fell and stung on his already raw cheeks.
He couldn't save Takasugi. That was all that seemed to matter now, not the crumbling building around him or Shouyou somewhere safer than here. Gintoki had said I'll be the one to kill you, and Gintoki had said don’t die, and while he had kept his promise, Takasugi had no choice but to break his.
Distantly, like they weren't his thoughts, he knew he needed to move. Everyone else was still out there. He couldn't die next to Takasugi like he wanted to, the way he always assumed he would. He couldn't stay, but leaving Takasugi here was more impossible.
Gintoki hugged him close, shifting to lift him into his arms, hearing nothing but the rush of blood in his ears and the weakening beat of—
He stilled. One shaky hand, stiffly unclenching from the kimono, lifted to press deep against Takasugi's neck.
Thump, thump, thump.
His heartbeat.
Gintoki sprung to action instantly, so pumped full of adrenaline his vision blurred, not helped by the tears that hadn't stopped. He swiped a bloody hand over his eyes. He's still alive, quit crying!
He couldn't form a single clear thought, but taking care of Takasugi was so ingrained in his muscle memory he didn't even have to think about it. His own clothes got torn to pieces making tourniquets and bandages without blinking, the red, red blood soaking through anyway. Urgency wiped his mind completely, sent him back in time to a past where he applied pressure to Takasugi's wounds on the frigid, wet battlefield, whispering please, please, please.
Please don’t leave me.
—
In Takasugi’s long dream, Bansai looked up from his shamisen and tilted his head.
Why do you look guilty? He twanged a string, but it made no sound. Tell Matako hello for me.
—
As soon as Shinpachi opens his mouth, the door to the room slams open.
"Gin—"
"Shhhhhh!" Shinpachi shushes almost louder than the girl in the doorway had yelled. Takasugi spares Gintoki a quick glance. Still asleep. His gaze lingers too long, and he has to tear it away before he begins to think about the bruised skin under Gintoki's eyes.
The girl—Kagura?—scowls, opening her mouth to shout back, and then her eyes land on Takasugi. It's her turn to drop what she's holding. Snacks scatter everywhere. Takasugi looks over and sees Shinpachi had dropped snacks as well. That... These really were Gintoki's kids.
Kagura stares blankly at Takasugi, then at Gintoki, then back to Takasugi. The meaning of her expression is blatant: Um, shouldn't we wake Gintoki up for this?
Shinpachi obviously doesn’t have an answer, but Takasugi can’t find one either.
All the other times he came back to life, he knew exactly what he needed to do. Get up and kill one more amanto. Get up and save Sensei. If Utsuro’s ashes were gone from his body, did that mean Shouyou was saved? Or had they just killed him again?
The panic from earlier settles into something more bitter. Maybe Gintoki is desperate to live as a human being again, but Takasugi lived and died as a beast. He doesn’t know how to do anything else but bare his fangs or retreat to lick his wounds. He had been prepared to slink away and die alone, too.
He remembers what Shouyou said to him: I cannot go with you. It hadn’t hurt as much then. If you can’t come with me, he’d thought, then fine. I’ll just go with you. When all you do is chase ghosts, it’s simpler to join them.
Obviously, that didn’t happen.
His eyes wander to Gintoki again. He watches the slow rise and fall of his chest and can’t help thinking: this guy is undoubtedly a lazy, useless bastard, but he’s always been a light sleeper. Someone who grew up like he did, someone who went to the kind of war they did, could never dream peacefully. It’s hard to believe he hasn’t jolted awake by now.
Although, the Gintoki who couldn’t sleep, the Gintoki he knew, was a man from a long time ago. His life is peaceful now. Maybe even he can sleep soundly. Maybe even the white demon became human.
When he regains his focus, he notices the kids exchanging frantic gestures, apparently managing to convey some sort of meaning to each other. They jump at his eyes on them.
“Takasugi-san,” Shinpachi whispers, “we should tell the doctors you’re awake. They probably have to do some tests.”
“Yeah!” Kagura agrees, her voice loud even when she’s being quiet. “We’ll tell them to shut up and not wake up Gin-chan!”
“Kagura! We’re not going to tell the doctors to shut up!”
“Gin-chan hasn’t slept in so long! What if they wake him up while they’re operating on Takasugi!”
“Why would they operate on Takasugi-san here?!”
“They—”
The third thing today falls to the floor. All three of them look to see the Jump that was on Gintoki’s lap on the ground.
“Ah,” Gintoki sits up, rubbing at his shut eyes. “What are you brats fighting about now?”
The kids freeze in panic, but Takasugi’s not surprised. Peaceful life or not, it seems Takasugi still understands him best after all.
Like he can hear his thoughts, Gintoki’s red eyes open and meet his.