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It's uncommon for Gintoki to dream about the war all these years after it ended. Uncommon, but not unheard of. The nightmares catch him two or three times a year, and he's never prepared for them. This time, like every time, he wakes up in a cold sweat with a name dying on his lips.
He goes to the bathroom and scrubs his face with cold water. It’s not quite five in the morning, but he knows from experience that he can’t go back to sleep, so he gets dressed instead. He drops his sweat-soaked pajamas in the laundry and heads out the door, closing it carefully behind him so as not to wake Kagura.
A brisk spring breeze greets him when he steps outside. He shivers, wonders if maybe he should have grabbed his jacket before he left. But Gintoki doesn’t feel like he can go back, so he follows the instinct that drives his feet forward. He walks quietly down the stairs to the ground floor.
Two glowing eyes at human height loom out of the darkness at him. Gintoki bites back a shout, his hand finding the hilt of his wooden sword before he can even think. Then the dim pre-dawn light catches on a head of green hair and a maid’s headband, and Gintoki breathes a sigh of relief.
“You scared the crap outta me,” he says.
“My apologies, Gintoki-sama,” Tama replies. “Should I fetch a new pair of underwear for you?”
“No need. Just be glad I didn’t crack you over the head like a real egg, Tama.”
Tama looks at him, her robotic eyes expressionless. “I don’t think you would do that, Gintoki-sama, even by accident.”
Like all the words that come out of Tama’s mouth, she speaks these without a trace of doubt. Gintoki averts his eyes and scratches his head. It’s embarrassing, somehow, hearing her talk about him like that. “What are you doing out here?”
“I can always be found outside at this time. The better question is, what are you doing awake at 4:52AM? You usually don’t get up for another five hours or so.”
“Bad dream,” he says simply. He won’t give her any more detail than that. Despite her appearance, Tama is practically a child, one even younger than Kagura. She doesn’t need to know what he’s seen, even if it was just on the inside of his eyelids. But Tama doesn’t seem satisfied by his response. She stares at him, her eyes clicking a photograph as he stares back. “What are you taking my picture for?” Gintoki asks.
“You’re making an expression I’ve never seen on you before. It seems important, so I want to study it.”
“It’s not important.”
“The core function of a robot is to help humans. To do so, I must be able to identify when a human isn’t feeling well.”
“I feel fine, Tama. There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“But Gintoki-sama, there’s sweat on your neck and arm even though it’s cold out. You’re awake when you should be asleep. Is it because of your dream?”
Gintoki scowls. “That’s none of your business,” he snaps. He regrets it immediately. But Tama doesn’t look hurt or sad or anything. She’s still inspecting him.
“Gintoki-sama,” she says, “as you know, I’m a robot. That means I don’t need to sleep.”
“I know.”
“So if you can’t sleep, you can always come and find me. There’s no need to wake anybody up. It’s not a bother to anyone. I’m already awake.”
He stays silent for a long time. He stays silent for too long. Gintoki isn’t a quiet man, but he’s let this silence grow between them, and he doesn’t know how to break it anymore. Fortunately, Tama speaks again.
“Will you walk with me, Gintoki-sama?”
Gintoki grasps the new topic like he would a life preserver thrown to him at sea. “Sure,” he says, his voice full of easy swagger. He’s just a man talking to a woman now. Well, a robot girl, but close enough for the moment. “Where do you want to go?”
She smiles. “I want to show you something.”
It’s a short walk. In less than twenty minutes, they’re at the riverside. There’s a grassy hill leading down to the riverbank, with little pink flowers blossoming all over the place. It’s a nice spot, actually. Tama sits in the grass, waiting for Gintoki to join her. He obediently drops down beside her.
“Since I don’t sleep, I watch the sunrise every day,” she says. “Usually, I just do it from the steps at the house, but sometimes I walk around to look at it from new places. Sometimes I take photos. I should ask Gengai-sama to help me download them from my data bank. They’re very beautiful. The best sunrise I’ve ever seen was right here, on this hill by the river.”
Gintoki looks at her. She watches the sky for a while, letting him stare. When she looks over at him, he can’t resist the urge anymore. He opens his mouth and talks.
“I had a nightmare,” he admits. “I don’t have them often. A few times a year. They’re always the same, though. Memories of a time long past.”
“I don’t have anything in my data bank about your past.”
“And we’ll keep it that way,” Gintoki says firmly. “Your data bank is for pretty pictures and dirty jokes. We don’t need any of what I have rattling around in my head rattling around in yours, too.”
“But your head is full of dirty jokes, Gintoki-sama.”
He laughs. It feels good. “I’ll tell you some of those later,” he says.
“Otose-sama will scold you.”
“Let the old lady yell. It’s good for her lungs.”
They chitchat until the sun crests over the horizon. Gintoki hasn’t seen a sunrise in years. He’s the kind of guy who stays up late and wakes up even later, so he’s slept through every one of them. The sky steadily lights up, transitioning from deep gray to bright orange and vibrant crimson. The sunrise is mirrored in the river, where the sun’s reflection waves to them as the current pulls the water along. Everything around him is bright and sparkling. It is undeniably beautiful.
He turns his head to tell Tama as much, only to find her looking at him instead of the sunrise. “Do you feel better, Gintoki-sama?” she asks.
“You’re missing the sunrise,” he says.
“I’m seeing what I need to.”
“I feel better,” Gintoki says. “Now, watch this beautiful sunrise with me.”
Smiling, she turns her head back toward the horizon.
When the sun establishes its position in the sky and the warm reds fade into the regular clear blue, Tama speaks again. “Gintoki-sama,” she says. “If you have another nightmare, please come see the sunrise with me. I hope it won’t be soon, but I’ll be there if you need me.”
Gintoki doesn’t say anything. He just plucks a pink blossom from the grass beside him and weaves its stem into her braid. He does this with another flower, then another and another until her hair is covered in them. She turns her head quizzically to the side.
“Why did you do that?” she asks.
“Because you showed me something beautiful,” he says. Gintoki stands, brushes himself off, and extends a hand to her. She takes it, rising to her feet. They walk together back to Snack Otose. In the full light of dawn, the threshold doesn’t seem untraversable anymore. Tama watches him climb the stairs and open the door to his home.
They don’t see each other again until lunch, when Kagura insists on going downstairs to eat “some proper food for once.” When she sees the flowers in Tama’s hair, Kagura is overcome with jealousy.
“Where did you get those! I want pretty flowers for my hair, too,” she says.
Tama smiles. “I took someone very special to a lovely place.”
“Take me there too! We can put flowers in each other’s hair.”
“I’d like that, Kagura-sama,” Tama says, her smile growing even larger.
Behind Kagura’s back, Gintoki smiles too.