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Sougo is thirteen when he has a one-on-one sit down with the doctor, who tells him that his sister is ill. It is not the first time he has heard of tuberculosis, and certainly not the first time he has seen blood - warm and thick and wet in his hands - but he can't help but panic and scream when Mitsuba suddenly begins to cough violently one Saturday night, painting the floor red with her blood. He remembers crying, and later, the feeling of Kondo-san's arms around him, warm as he watches doctors carry his sister, unconscious and pale, to the hospital. It is then that the severity of the matter hits him fully, and he knows that she isn't going to be okay for a very long time.
-
Sougo is seventeen when Mitsuba passes away. He refuses to use the word 'die' because it is too cold and harsh and cruel, which is everything his sister is not, and it makes him feel lonely and numb. She goes quietly, pressing a limp, still-warm hand to his cheek as the machines in the hospital room beep and whir before dying out. The lone, flat noise of the heart monitor is loud as it reminds him wickedly that she isn't just sleeping anymore, and no, Sougo, your sister is no longer in our world and now you're alone, alone, alone.
It takes seven men - all from the Shinsengumi, all of them his comrades or not-really-but-still - to pry him off of Mitsuba's corpse the following morning. He manages to break the arms of four men along with a nose and a few fingers before they succeed.
Sougo doesn't speak for days.
-
He is twenty-one when he stumbles into Kondo-san's office, pale and trembling and silent, sliding a document into the older man's hands. He doesn't say anything and merely watches as Kondo reads the papers contained within the thin packet with shaking hands and quivering lips. Sougo vaguely feels, after five or so minutes, the other pulling him into a tight, warm hug once again; a large, calloused hand grasping the back of his head and pressing it against his chest in a gesture that Sougo can only describe as fatherly and tender and heartbroken all at the same time. He isn't sure if he is dreaming or not, but he swears he can hear Kondo-san mumbling, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," into his hair. He remembers hugging back.
"I'm sorry too."
-
He is alone - twenty-two now - as he walks into the Yorozuya's apartment. He is sitting on one couch, fiddling with the folds of his sleeve as the samurai watches him through unreadable eyes.
"They said," Sougo starts, "that I have about three months left." Gintoki crosses his arms, solemn.
"It's -”
"Lung cancer," Sougo finishes, looking down. His hands are clenching his sleeves in a tight, trembling first, but no matter what he does, he can never really stop the tremors. It is quiet for a minute. Two. Three. An eternity. He hates it.
"So what do you want me to do?"
Sougo looks back up, and his eyes are tired and defeated; the sallow, pale skin beneath them are bruise-blue, betraying the healthy, put-together front he is trying to put up. He is exhausted. "I never said that I wanted you to do anything," is what he ends up saying. "I thought you might be able to do something," is what he swallows down, like a guilty secret.
"Why else would you be here, then?" Bright red eyes are scrutinizing him and Sougo feels tiny under the Yorozuya's gaze. It feels weird.
"I always come here," he replies flatly.
"Not for almost five months you haven't," Gintoki throws back. Sougo shuffles uncomfortably.
"We're friends, I'm just coming to visit - ”
"I can't," Gintoki says, "do anything."
"I didn't... I never - ”
Gintoki's arms are around him now, warm and strong and comforting. His chin is placed atop honey-blond hair, and Sougo is shaking violently, tears spilling onto Gintoki's shoulder as he buries his face in the fabric of the older man's shirt, thin hands clutching Gintoki's sleeves so tightly - "I can't," Gintoki repeats, "do anything."
"Fix me - ”
“- I can't."
-
"I don't know," Sougo starts, raising an arm in the air to pop a bubble with a finger, "if Hijikata-san knows about it."
Kagura, who is sitting cross-legged beside him, dips a red stick into a little container and brings it back up, blowing out softly with her mouth. She cranes her head to the side, where Sougo is lying a few inches away from her leg, and then looks back to the sky to admire the bubbles she has made. An arm rises again, popping three, four, five bubbles this time. "Stop that," she says, swatting the hand away. "If you keep popping them, we won't be able to see how high they can go."
"They're going to pop anyway," comes the deadpan reply. "So whether we pop them or not, it changes nothing."
"It changes something to me," Kagura dips the stick back into the container and then holds it up near Sougo's mouth. She tries to ignore the real meaning behind his words, and merely leaves it at that. He blows, much too softly to make a large number of bubbles as Kagura did, but with enough force to make five, six, seven of them. A small bubble floats downwards and pops on his cheek. Sougo scrubs at the wet spot with a sleeve, and then closes his eyes. He is tired - he always is - but he can never seem to fall asleep. He can't stand it.
"Haven't you told him yet?"
He shakes his head. "How do you tell someone like Hijikata-san that you're dying?"
She puts the container down a few inches away from Sougo's head and pinches his nose. "The same way you told all of us, dipshit."
"I never," he starts, aiming a kick at the nineteen-year-old. He misses. "told any of you - except for danna.You people are just too damn nosy."
"What about the Gorilla?" She is spread out on the grass on her stomach now, chin resting on Sougo's arm. "You told him, didn't you?"
"Not directly. The doctors had to do most of the explaining to him." Eyes closed still, he raises his free arm and flicks her nose. "He just happens to have told everybody else. I didn't think Gorillas had such big mouths."
"Then doesn't that mean that Mayora knows about it?" Kagura says, closing her eyes too. She can feel the movement of Sougo's slight shake of the head, and when the violent coughs start up, she props herself up on her elbows with rehearsed ease and pushes his face to the side as blood dribbles down the corner of his mouth. She is too used to blood and the occurrence happening that she isn't even fazed by it anymore. When the coughs stop, she grabs one of his hands ("Goddamn you need to eat more, you're too skinny, ahuh") and leads it to the corner of his mouth, rubbing the stain with a now-dirtied sleeve. They are quiet as they listen to Sougo's heavy, laboured breathing, and Kagura feels a pang in her chest and a heavy feeling in her gut.
"Why don't you tell him?"
Sougo's face twists and he can't help but laugh as he answers. "Because," he starts, and he can taste the blood on his tongue, "I don't want him to know that he's the reason I'm dying." Kagura frowns and her eyebrows knit as she listens to Sougo laugh and cry and sob at the same time. She can't think of anything to say, so she silently counts down the number of days Sougo has left - thirty, twenty, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two - and wishes things were different.
She finds herself crying too.
one.