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Takasugi Shinsuke had never been the smart type. He was a good-for-nothing who only knew how to swing his sword, a foolish brat that was nothing but a disappointement to the name he was to inherit. But he often thought that he didn't really care about all of that, even when he was lying on the ground spitting blood and covered in bruises. He had grown used to the pain, to the dark and yet, in the never ending night, a single ray of sunshine had emerged.
It was a man who looked just as pretty as a woman and whose smile echoed light and attracted people like he was fire and they were moths. It was way too bright for the little boy to look at and he often needed to avert his eyes, only to see a boy around his age, carrying an oversized sword, that wouldn't leave Yoshida's side. The silver-haired boy was always picking his nose and getting into stupid fights, not giving a damn about the world and Takasugi could tell; he was a good-for-nothing just like him.
He had finally found somewhere where he belonged, somewhere he could call home and it was fine by him being a fool because he wasn't alone. And they were all fools but they were free and that was all that ever mattered to them.
But Takasugi learned way too early that beautiful things never last.
All the hopes, the bonds and aspirations crumbled down and their teacher got snatched away from them.
So they fought to get back their everything and still lost everything in a war they could never win to start with because they were too foolish to see how weak they were.
How weak he was.
How could he ever forget the calamity his weakness brought on them ? How could he ever forget that sight burnt in the back of his eyelid ?
The tears of his good-for-nothing best friend and the sad quiet smile that was nothing like his usual dumb grin as he looked at the head of their teacher, pitiful at his feet, long soft hair mixed with blood and dirt. The teacher that Gintoki loved more than anyone and wanted to save more than anyone but had to behead with his own hands in order to keep his friends safe (no he didn't have the right to cry,not him,not him,not him).
And in Takasugi's remnant eye, everything burnt down to hatred; hatred toward the world that took everything from them, hatred toward his weak self that couldn't save Gintoki from carrying this burden, hatred toward Gintoki that never blamed him for anything.
Their paths then diverged, they had to - because they lost everything together, because Gintoki's broken smile hurt too much, because Katsura's dead eyes hurt too much, because Sakamoto's loud laugh sounded too fake, too sad.
Maybe he really had a few screws lose as he swore to burn down the world but he never lost sight of himself; he could never forget the beast within him that was thirsty for blood and he couldn't ignore his eye that was throbbing, claiming revenge.
And sometimes, when the night was quiet and he'd stand alone on the dock of his ship, he'd hear that voice again begging him to end everything, all the suffering and the madness, to stab this heart that was shamelessly beating while their teacher's didn't and take revenge on himself.
But he also knew, that it wouldn't be enough, that it wouldn't hurt enough. It was a too cheap repentance for his sins. Suicide wasn't enough suffering for the good-for-nothing brat he was.
That's why he is pointing his sword at Gintoki once again, ten long years later.
Because hurting his other self would hurt much more than cutting himself.
So they attack each other and they fall and get up again and crawl on the ground to stand up despite the wounds, never avoiding each others' swords, screaming each other's names like a curse until their throats get hoarse.
And the swords break and it goes down to fists and they beat each other to pulp. And their fight is ugly and brutal and personal all at once, like some fight between brothers that you shouldn't be looking at.
The battefield is quiet and all you can hear is punches and boold dripping on the ground but the smoke reflects shadows and ghosts of the past. Both are shaking, exhausted, barely breathing but some miracle manages to get them up on their feet every single time, again and again.
But they're not trying to kill each other. They're saving each other because they both know too well how it feels to carry the weight of all the goddamn agony and suffering. So they continue fighting and throwing their weakened fists until they can't get up, until breathing becomes difficult.
Again,it's quiet and Takasugi's cracked voice breaks the silence and he lets everything out; blames Gintoki and blames himself, blames their fate and blames the world.
And yet, Gintoki gets up again as if his body isn't aching and his dead fish eyes are glowing with unwavering determination to save the man that was once his brother, comrade and best friend, maybe even something more.
His other self won't go down that easily, it seems.
And suddenly everything looks so simple for Takasugi; he had always been such a foolish good-for-nothing who never saw anything beyond the tip of his nose after all.
Now he just feels tired but his remnant eye had never looked so alive and all he really wants is to have Gintoki and all the bickering and laughter back in his life.
So he smiles.
It's a little pained smile but he smiles and it's the most human expression he had in the last ten years.
“I haven't been expelled yet,have I ?”
They are going to be alright.