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Oh how the mighty have fallen.
The "savior" of the Joui warriors, the white demon of the battlefield, the Shiroyasha - now stumbling along the side of a wall in the dead of winter. On any other occasion it would have been because he was piss drunk after a narrow victory on the field, but today was not that day.
For some ungodly reason he didn't fully understand, he was freed by his executioner. He almost didn't take the chance. After all, what more was left for a man who had slain his teacher in cold blood - not to mention with a smile? Sure, he ended up in prison because he wanted to save that little girl from her father, but it's not like he didn't deserve to be there anyway. The executioner didn't realize that the girl he saved was just means to an end. Damn fool.
But, it was almost like his body acted on its own using sheer survival instinct to propel him forward and out of his cell. Even so, how much can survival instinct realistically do to keep him alive now?
Instinct didn't put warm clothes on his body. Instinct didn't cure his illnesses and wounds.
Instinct certainly didn't fill his stomach. It could, however, choose where it wants to die.
Instinct propelled his body forward for about five minutes before deciding on the nearby graveyard. Guess the executioners didn't want to walk far to bury their victims' bodies. It landed him beside a tall grave engraved "Terada Tatsugoro" before being satisfied enough to rest.
The young man was certain that this was the last time he would ever come across his will to live. The Shiroyasha could only wait from here for the same white of his namesake to encase him as he perished. "What a way to die," he whispered aloud to himself.
To pass the time, he tried to bet on which thing would kill him first. Hunger? Hypothermia? Illness? It was a coin toss. Except coins only had two sides. He decided to toss out illness for now. What kind of infection would want to be out here of all places? Now there were two sides to the coin.
Hypothermia was an enticing bet. He was sitting on a bed of snow wearing nothing but the shitty cloth he was given in prison. He already couldn't feel his hands or legs anymore. Almost as if on cue, the flurries of snow gracefully falling down from the sky turned into undignified clumps quickly dusting his head and shoulders in white, not that he had the strength or will to wipe them off. The earth sure was making a good argument for freezing to death.
On the other hand, boy was he hungry. He couldn't even remember the last time he had any meal, let alone a fulfilling one. The guards at the prison only fed the prisoners if they were feeling generous on good days, which included anywhere from a stale piece of bread to a whole *two* slightly less stale pieces of bread. Sometimes, though, the executioner snuck in some extra pieces out of what he could only guess was pity. Those extra pieces were probably the reason he made it this far at all. Nevertheless, it felt like his body was about to start cannibalizing itself for sustenance. And if he passed out here, he knew he wouldn't wake up again. So that was the other side of the coin.
As much as he wanted to just lose consciousness and get it over with, he just couldn't. For some reason, he felt he owed it to Shouyo to at least try and hold out as long as possible.
And so, Sakata Gintoki waited patiently for anything to take him.
It didn't occur to him that rarely, coins could land on their edges. Or that his will to live wasn't quite dead just yet.
-----
*Just my luck.*
The one day Otose decides it's about time to visit her husband's grave again turns out to be one of the coldest of the season, not to mention the heavy snowstorm that just so happened to start as soon as she entered the graveyard. But regardless, she wasn't about to turn back now. She already got the manju as an offering and she wanted it fresh.
When she arrived at his grave, for a split second she thought she saw a figure idly sitting on the other side, but she decided to write it off as the heavy snow playing tricks. That is, until the figure spoke.
"Hey.... old lady."
Its voice was barely above a whisper and almost seemed hoarse. But at the same time, it sounded young. Just what sort of thing did Tatsugoro bring to his wife?
"Is that manju?" It paused. "...Can I have some? I'm about to starve to death."
*Ah,* Otose thought. *He brought a stray.* Given, they're not usually human teenagers, but...
"These are for my husband. Ask him."
Without hesitation, the kid reached an arm over to the other side and hastily took a few to put in his mouth. From the quick glance Otose got of his arm, he really did seem to be on death's door.
"Well, what did he say?"
"I don't know. The dead don't talk." he replied matter-of-factly before biting into a second piece.
"Geez, you're really asking for it, kid. Don't blame me if you get cursed or something."
"The dead don't talk and they don't eat manju. But I'll make a one sided promise instead." Otose raised an eyebrow, although the kid was still facing the other way. "I won't forget this debt. Your wife doesn't have much longer to live, so for that short time I'll protect her in your stead."
*Just what sort of stray did you bring me, Tatsugoro?*
She simply sighed and got up from her spot in front of the grave. "Is that so?" He didn't reply.
She ever so carefully stepped to the side of the grave to get a closer look at this supposed brand new protector. His face was still hidden, looking down at the ground, but she saw most of everything else.
The very first thing she noticed was the appearance of his hair. It had a slight wave to it, but its most striking feature was its bright silver color. It almost reminded her of Jirocho's, blending almost seamlessly with the snow that landed on his head and shoulders. His only clothing was a navy blue robe and some sandals. It was a damn miracle he even survived out here for who knows how long. And If his bony arms were concerning at first, then the rest of his figure was beyond alarming. Tied to his side was a shabby looking bokuto.
"Hey... kid." No response. "Look up at me. Let me see the face of the stray my husband brought for me."
The kid softly exhaled before slowly turning to face Otose. He blinked a few times at first, but afterwards she saw his striking burgundy eyes. The combination of hair and eyes almost made the kid look like a ghost or even a demon. His mouth was slightly agape, and his cheekbones stuck out from starvation. There were a few bruises here and there as well. Still, the eyes were the things that stuck out.
"You're pretty young to have been fighting in the war." She simply stated.
"...Is it that obvious?"
She took out a cigarette out of habit before remembering the weather and put it back. "You all have the same gaze. The gaze of a wandering ghost from the battlefield. Although I sometimes see it in the stray cats too."
"I see."
Despite everything, the boy made no effort to get up from his spot. "My god, are you that helpless? Come on, up you go. It's going to be hard to be a guard dog if you're stuck behind a grave." She bent down and held out a hand to him. He hesitantly looked at it for a few seconds before glancing at Otose and grabbing onto it.
She could only toss an imaginary coin to find out what happens next.
-----
"H-hey, lady, I can walk on my own..."
"Can you?" Almost as if to make a point, the grandma stopped and let go of his hand as they exited the graveyard, and immediately Gintoki stumbled a bit. He had forgotten that he could barely feel his legs.
"Alright, alright... you win, grandma." he admitted in defeat, letting the woman grab onto his hand again with slightly raised eyebrows.
Gintoki skittishly followed behind the old lady, having to bend down a little for his hand to meet hers. There was the thought in the back of his head that because they were still near the prison, passersby could tell he was an escapee given his outfit. He had to wonder if this old lady was unaware of what prisoners wore around here, or if she just didn't care. There was also the small fear that the lady was taking him back to prison, but luckily it seemed like she passed by the area with nothing more than a glance.
"Hey, granny... can I ask where we're going?"
"I'm taking you to my shop, Otose Snack House."
"Who's Otose?"
"That would be me."
"Oh."
"Well, how about you? Do I get to know the name of my new guard dog?"
He quickly looked around to make sure no one was listening. "It's... uh... Sakata Gintoki."
"What, are there people out here looking for you, kid?" He turned pale for a split second. "Actually, don't answer that. I'd rather have the ability to plead ignorance."
Just what was the deal with this Otose lady? He had never met anyone who could be so cynical yet so kind before. Despite everything, he still ever so quietly scoffed in amusement.
It took everything he had left to try and keep up, even as she was patiently strolling down the road as if there weren't still a heavy snowstorm beating down on the both of them. He shivered so hard that it started affecting his movement, and his breathing became so labored he was on the verge of hyperventilation.
In the end, they only made it about three quarters of the way to her snack shop before Gintoki's body couldn't take it anymore and lost consciousness due to sheer exhaustion.
-----
Otose stopped when the boy's hand suddenly lost all of its strength and turned around to find him on the cold, hard ground, face planted into pavement. "Oh for pete's sake... we were almost there."
She put two fingers to the man's jugular. There was still a pulse, and he was still faintly breathing. At least he was alive. While she was at it, she felt his forehead. It seemed he was also fighting off infection or illness or both received from wherever the hell he came from.
Because the kid was mostly skin and bones at that point, Otose managed to swing his arms around her shoulders and heave him the rest of the way. She didn't bother trying to carry him up any stairs though, so she settled Gintoki in one of the booths at the shop. Because of the heavy snowstorm, business was sparse anyways. His head unceremoniously flopped onto the table in front of him while Otose left to fetch some supplies. A stray cat or five was one thing, but a whole human teenage boy would need a lot more special attention.
-----
The Shiroyasha suddenly found himself back on the battlefield. His hands were tied behind his back while he faced the edge of a cliff. He looked around to see himself surrounded by Naraku, and then he looked past his shoulder to find a figure approaching him with a sword. The figure had long, dirty blond hair much like Shouyo's.
Except this man had blood red eyes instead of the soft blue green eyes that he knew, and his bangs were neatly parted to either side. And this man looked down at him, almost how a sadistic falcon looks down at an injured bunny.
That is, until the man smiled and closed his eyes. Now he looked almost exactly like Shouyo as he held up his blade and decapitated the Shiroyasha without hesitation.
-
Gintoki jerked awake in a cold sweat, body prepared for battle from the countless times he and his comrades had been ambushed in their sleep. Except now he found himself at a booth at what seemed to be a bar, covered in oh so warm blankets. He hadn't been engulfed in this much pleasant warmth since before joining the war. He almost didn't want to try and move in fear that this was yet another dream.
On the table he found a small note next to a cup of still warm tea. The note read "I brought you the rest of the way back to Otose Snack House. If I'm not here when you wake up, I'm getting extra supplies for your sorry ass. In the meantime, drink the damn tea and don't get into trouble."
Ah, he remembered now. He ate the offerings of some old lady's dead husband and became her guard dog in the process.
The sky was almost completely dark by now. Geez, it's not like he was asking to be taken care of like a sick child. Well, maybe he was sick, just not in the way the old lady thought he was. More like sick in the head.
Damn it, now he was even more in debt to this old lady and her husband. How was he going to pay for any of this? Maybe it would have been simpler if he just died in that graveyard. Regardless, he took a small sip of his warm tea. Even underneath the blankets, his body still had chills from fighting off illness.
What should have been a coin flip ended up being a lot more complicated than he gambled for.
-----
Otose had half expected this Gintoki kid to have run off somewhere by the time she got back. But alas, he was right where she had placed him. About half of the tea gone, he now stared off to nowhere in particular, not even noticing when Otose dropped a bag of various medical supplies in front of him.
"I hate to disturb you when you look oh so comfortable, but you gotta get up so I can tend to you."
Gintoki slowly looked at the bag, then the tea, and then the blanket around him. "Granny, I don't have any money. I can't pay for this."
"Don't you worry, you will eventually. But for now I'm putting it on your tab. Don't you forget it."
She swore she saw his mouth perk up by the smallest amount as he scoffed. As he slowly moved out from the booth, he said "You sure have guts to take in some Joui rebel you found in a cemetery. How do you know I'm not gonna like, I dunno, take you hostage or something?"
"In your current state? I'd like to see you try to take anything that's not my poor wallet hostage." She took out a cigarette and lit it up. "Besides, I trust my husband enough to bring me a stray that won't outright kill me."
Gintoki followed Otose to the bathroom. He had left his blankets behind, so he was visibly shivering the whole way.
She took out some new, warm clothes from the bag and dropped them by the bathtub. "Get yourself clean first. Just give a yell when you're done. Or the closest thing to a yell your sorry ass can manage."
Not looking back, she closed the door behind her and continued tending to the bar and the few customers that had just arrived.
-----
Gintoki hesitated at first but eventually gave in, taking off his navy blue run down clothing. The last time he took off his top like this, it was to receive a beating from a group of prison guards. He couldn't help but wince at the memory - not to mention there were still dark bruises where it happened.
Stepping into the bath filled with hot water and soap made him realize how long it had been since he took a warm bath. It had to have been at least a year at that point. He sat in the tub and watched almost mesmerized with how many layers of dirt, grime, and dead skin simply floated away. His various cuts and wounds stung from the soap, but at this point he barely cared.
His mind wandered to Takasugi and Zura, and hell even the Woody Woodpecker incarnate Tatsuma. Did they have warm water yet? Had they been captured like he had? Were they even alive?
During his time in prison, his signature wavy silver hair had dulled considerably from the constant dampness and muskiness of the cells. It didn't help that its texture caused it to absorb any dirt or blood it touched like a sponge. Just gently leaning his head back into the bath water caused his hair to release who knows how many months of filth into the tub.
Gintoki hated to admit it, but the whole experience had helped him relax quite a bit. When he got out of the bath, his muscles ached considerably less and he felt much more refreshed. It also helped that the clothes Otose got for him were a lot more comfortable than that old prison garment.
"What the hell am I even doing?" he sighed out loud. Just yesterday, he didn't think he would remain alive, let alone get taken in by some widowed grandma.
He had to wonder if this old lady felt just as lonely as he did.
-----
Otose guessed that the kid was patiently yet perceptively waiting for any customers to leave, because as soon as the bar was quiet again, he quietly peeked his head out of the door and called out to her like she asked.
He already had the clothes she gave him situated tightly around his body as he slouched over on the edge of the tub.
"Well first, I'm gonna have to take care of the wounds on your body, so you'll have to take off your top."
"Huh? ...Granny, I don't have any."
Otose sighed. "Listen, kid, let me give you some advice." She knelt down on one knee and looked him straight into his averted eyes. "If you want to live in a place like Kabuki-cho, you're gonna have to get much better at lying than that."
Gintoki had an unsure expression as he shakily exhaled and hesitated at the seams of his top.
"Gintoki, I'm not sure what you think an old lady is capable of but I'm not here to hurt you. Geez, I feel like a doctor trying to give a child a flu shot."
"Alright, alright..." He visibly sweat, either from the steam or paranoia or both, and slowly but surely he wiggled out of his top.
Just as expected. His entire body, from his neck to his torso, was covered in nasty bruises, some fresh and others older. There were also quite a few scars, likely from the war, but they had already healed over for the most part. From the way he struggled to move earlier, she also reasoned he had some cracked ribs. "Alright, how about the other side?"
The kid's posture considerably shrunk, but regardless he still turned around, stepping into the tub to sit on the ledge again, broad yet frail back facing Otose.
"Aha, that's where the open wounds were hiding." Gintoki scoffed in response. Slashes, bruises, lashes, you name it - his back looked more red and purple than it did his actual skin color. Not that she cared enough to ask, but she had to wonder if the kid was tortured in an attempt at drawing out information. If there was any doubt that he was some sort of ex prisoner before, it was long gone now. "Geez, good thing I bought extra supplies. It's a damn miracle you even made it this far."
"Lady, I didn't become your guard dog so you could be my mom."
"What, do you already have someone to be your mom for you?"
"No."
"That's what I thought. Now stay still while I put some medicine on it."
Gintoki did as asked, only flinching when the disinfectants she used stung his wounds. In fact, he stood so still that it kind of freaked out Otose at first.
The fact that Tatsugoro brought this boy to her meant that she trusted that Gintoki wouldn't put her in harm's way. But nevertheless, Otose could still tell there was something off or maybe even dangerous about him. She wondered if there was a side to him that she would rather not see with her own eyes. Perhaps her husband knew that for a town as insane as Kabuki-cho, its protectors would need to be just as insane.
-----
By the time the old lady finished tending to his wounds, Gintoki was covered in various bandages and gauzes.
"Kid, do you think you can climb some stairs? I'd like to take you up to the second floor of the building. Don't want you to freak out the customers and all that. Or spread illness."
His mouth perked up the slightest bit. "Come on, lady, don't wound my pride too much now."
"Says the one who couldn't even make it the full way without passing out."
"Yeah, yeah. Just show me where to go."
She took him outside, where the only thing lighting up the sky was the snow still beating down. Did this lady really go out in this weather just to get supplies? He followed her up the wooden stairs, albeit needing to hold onto the rails, and into the second floor. On the floor was a futon, a damp towel, and some more medicine, this time for fevers and colds and other various illnesses.
"Just holler if you think you're about to die." And with that, Gintoki was left all alone again.
Settling into the futon and taking some of the medicine, he unintentionally thought back to how Shouyo first took care of him after finding him on the battlefield.
He only faintly remembers some of the days where he was a lone boy scavenging abandoned battlefields for uneaten food like a vulture. He certainly didn't remember anything beforehand, or even how he ended up scavenging to survive. He had no memory of who his parents were or what they even looked like. He was just some kid practically born from corpses on the field, the corpse eating demon. The first thing he vividly remembers, however, is when he first saw Shouyo.
A tall man with long dirty blond hair and soft eyes approached the boy while he was eating a rice ball he picked up. He gave the boy his own sword while offering for the boy to follow him. Because he was never officially taught a language, he didn't know how to speak, but he had picked up some words overheard on the battlefield. "Sword", "Corpse Eating Demon" in relation to himself, "Soul", "Joui", "Battle", and other such phrases. He understood enough of Shouyo's speech to follow after him.
Shouyo had picked Gintoki up and let him ride on his back. Halfway through, however, the boy fell asleep on Shouyo's shoulder, and he woke up in a building he had never seen before. He was already in a futon, and there was a note beside where he woke up. Unfortunately, it seemed that Shouyo didn't yet realize the kid couldn't read or talk, but looking back it was probably a note telling him where he was or where Shouyo was.
When Shouyo returned, he brought with him some medical supplies and brought the kid over to a bathtub. Looking forward again, Gintoki was getting a sense of deja vu.
Thinking about Shouyo again still made his heart feel empty inside. He was the kind man who saved a boy from imminent death, nursed him back to health, taught him how to read and write and talk and fight, and even gave him a name of his own. The kind man who was cut down by that same boy. And the kind man who thanked the boy for doing it.
And then a horrifying thought popped into his head. If this Otose lady was fulfilling the same type of role that Shouyo had, was she fated to die by his own hands just like his teacher?
Maybe this whole guard dog thing was a huge mistake.
-----
In her time taking care of stray cats, Otose had come across a few that came to her on death's door. She quickly learned that even if she did everything she possibly could, not all of them would make it past the night. In her opinion, it was the worst part of caring for the cats, but such was life. If she quit just because of the several that came too late, there would be others not getting the help they could benefit from. And even for the cats that died in her care, she would rather their final moments be somewhere warm and safe.
But could she follow this same principle for a fellow human?
Gintoki's chances of survival seemed to be okay for now, but there was always that possibility that she would walk up to the second floor only to find a cold, stiff body that had succumbed to illness.
Luckily, this ended up not being the case so far. Sunlight gently coated the walls as she opened the door to find the boy still sleeping in his futon.
She definitely couldn't call it a peaceful sleep though. His body was curled up tightly in a fetal position. He took quick, shallow breaths as he visibly shivered, and his skin was covered in a cold sweat. Otose gently placed a hand on his forehead to find that his fever hadn't subsided yet.
As much as she wanted to wake him up to give him some more medicine, she reasoned that he needed the extra rest just as badly. After placing a damp towel on his head, she closed the door behind her to keep the cold out.
-----
"Oh, you're up, my little scavenger. Did you sleep well?"
The little boy only recited some words aloud as he clenched around the sword he was given. "Scavenger... sleep...?"
"Oh, perhaps you never learned a language?"
"La... language."
"I suppose not. I wonder if you know any words you've heard around. How about..." He picked up the sheathed sword he got to replace the one he gave to the boy and pointed at it. "...this?"
The boy's eyes went wide at first, but then realized he only wanted the boy to name the object. His posture loosened and he pointed at it as well. "Sword."
"That's right, a sword. Let's see... do you know... a 'name'?"
"Name?"
"A name. For example..." He pointed a thumb at himself. "My name is Yoshida Shouyo."
The boy pointed at him as well. "Y... Yoshida... Shou...yo."
"Well... do *you* have a name?" He pointed at the boy.
"Name... ummm.... oh! 'Corpse Eating Demon'." The boy looked proud of himself.
"Oh, so you do know of that name you've made for yourself. Yes, a cute little demon you are. But..." He ruffled the boy's hair. "Let's think of a new name, shall we?"
"New... name."
"How about we think of one while I clean you up?" Shouyo stood up and extended his hand out to the boy.
"Clean..?" he replied confused, but he took the hand anyway.
The boy to be given a new name followed Shouyo to a nearby washroom, where a bathtub was already filled partly with warm water.
"Lift up your arms?" the taller man asked, giving a demonstration by lifting up one of his own at a right angle. The boy hesitantly mimicked his movement. Shouyo warmly smiled as approval.
"Lift... arms." he repeated, looking at his raised arm.
"That's right." Shouyo gently grabbed onto the boy's clothes and started to take it off the raised arm. He saw the boy's eyes go wide as he started to tremble in place.
"Silly little demon, I can't clean you if you have your clothes on."
The boy looked at the garment, still visibly uncomfortable. "'Clothes'... safe." The words were drawn out as he tried to remember what they meant. "No 'clothes'... danger. No hide."
"You don't feel safe without clothes? Don't you worry my little demon, you'll be safe with me.", Shouyo reassured, pointing at himself for the last bit.
"You..." the boy pointed back. "Yoshida Shoyo... safe. No danger?"
"That's right." Shouyo smiled. "Can I take off your clothes now?"
"Yes. Yoshida Shouyo take off clothes."
As he finished undressing the boy, he said "'Shouyo' is okay, too. Or even 'Shouyo-sensei.'"
As the boy was placed into the pleasantly warm bathtub and gently cleaned keeping in mind of his various minor wounds, Shouyo started conversation again. "So, shall we come up with a new name for you?"
"New name... no... 'Corpse Eating Demon'?"
"Sure. That's what the warriors on the battlefield called you, but I think you deserve something kinder."
"Kinder."
"Let me think of the first things I thought of when I saw you, such as... your hair, for example."
"Oh! Hair." The boy pointed up at his own. "Silver hair."
"Seems like everyone else also mentions it. We can include 'silver' in your new name."
"Silver... new name... okay."
"Good. Now, let me think... Oh, I know!" The boy looked at Shouyo in curiosity. "How about we name you after Kintaro, a special boy from a well known folktale."
"Kintaro?"
"That's right. If I remember correctly, Kintaro lived with animals in the mountains. And when I first saw you, you were living with crows."
"Oh! Crows... yes." He pointed at himself. "Eat with crows."
"That's right. I was thinking... Kintaro had another name as well. 'Sakata Kintoki.'"
"Sakata Kintoki... okay."
"And then, if we replace the 'gold' in Kintoki with 'silver'..."
"Oh!" The boy's eyes lit up in realization.
"Then we could name you..."
-
Sakata Gintoki woke up again, this time a little slower than last evening. He was covered in sweat and had a towel on his head he didn't remember putting there. He groaned loudly.
Dreaming of Shouyo *again*? At least that dream was more or less a pleasant one. Still, he hated dwelling on the past. Especially on his beloved teacher. It only served to further add salt into the wounds of his broken spirit.
The first thing he noticed was the smell of something warm and tasty next to where he was sleeping. He looked over to find a bowl tightly wrapped in foil along with another note from the grandma. "If you need anything just give a good knock on the floor and pray I hear you from below. In the meantime take the medicine next to you and eat your damn soup. Try not to spill it. PS - just rest as much as you can. You'd be a shitty guard dog if you can't even take care of yourself."
It seemed that the old lady came by earlier to check on him while he was sleeping. He must have been really out of it considering he didn't wake up to the sound of her. If that had happened in the war he would have been long dead. It also seemed that she had anticipated him sleeping for a lot longer if the bowl of soup was wrapped in foil to keep it warm. And luckily, it was still warm as he unwrapped the bowl to find a hearty broth filled with plenty of nutritious vegetables.
"What kind of guard dog gets to sleep inside and gets fed soup?" Gintoki mumbled to himself.
This lady may have played the persona of a cold, apathetic, cynical, widowed old hag, Gintoki thought, but he realized that she actually had a big heart, even if you had to dig deep down to find it. He wondered if he could ever grow a heart like that someday.
Now that his body was no longer numb from the cold nor was it running on adrenaline, his injuries felt like they were on fire. It took everything he had just to sit up and eat his soup. The broth brought some much needed warmth as he still struggled against his fever.
As much as he wanted to protest being told to go back to sleep like some child, his body was itching for the opportunity. That damn survival instinct of his would rather his pride die instead of him.
And so he took his medicine, curled up into a ball again, and hoped he wouldn't have to dream about his past again. He knew this hope was futile, but he might as well try.
-----
"Hey, Otose, since when did you have company? You never struck me as a person to invite anyone over, but I saw you walking up to the second floor."
"Just another stray. Don't worry about it."
The regular tilted his head in confusion. "But why would it be on the second floor? And since when did stray cats eat soup? Don't you feed them scraps?"
"Never said it was a cat. Like I said, it's not a big deal."
"If you say so..."
She did trust this particular regular to keep a secret or two, but she didn't want anyone extra to get caught up in the situation regardless. Especially if this boy was truly an ex-prisoner.
At that moment, a few drunken customers who weren't regulars started making a racket. "Hey, old hag! What's the deal?"
"Quit shouting, I can hear you fine." she replied with an exasperated tone. "What do you drunken fools want?"
Hooligans who had too much to drink were nothing new to Otose. Most of the time, she had the experience to deescalate any trouble. Sometimes, though, things got rather ugly, but luckily there was always a regular or two that would try to keep them in line. She simply sighed as she warily walked over to the booth where the three men were sitting.
"This rice we ordered is cold! Do you think this is a joke?!" They were loud enough that she was worried it might wake up Gintoki upstairs.
"That would be because you ordered it an hour ago and left it by the windowsill on a below-freezing day. Rice tends to obey the laws of thermodynamics, you know." The regular sitting at the bar was looking over now with mild concern.
"Hey! Quit messing with us, granny!" The man on the outer edge of the booth stood up from his seat and glared dangerously at Otose. "You think this is funny? You calling us stupid?"
She sighed again. "I am the owner of a snack shop, not a comedian. You'll find those closer to-" She was cut off by the man sloppily grabbing onto her kimono by the collar.
The regular who was watching stood up and interjected "Hey, what do you think you're doing?!"
The man ignored the regular's warning. "You better watch your damn mouth, old hag. Do you want to find out what happens to those that cross me?"
Otose's expression didn't change, but there was a singular bead of sweat running down her cheek. She needed to try and deescalate. "Listen, if you wanted a refund you could have just asked. I'm not here to pick a fight."
"Are you sure?!" The man slurred. He raised a fist as he shouted "Because those sound like fighting words to me, you damn old h-"
In an instant, a third set of hands yanked the drunken man's hand off of Otose and pinned his body onto the wall behind the booth. His eyes were hidden by the bangs in his face.
"Gintoki?! But you-"
"Oi, kid..." the man spat out with venom as he struggled underneath the boy. "I don't know who you think you are, but you're going to regret getting in my way."
"Oh, me?" Gintoki said in a low and dangerous tone Otose hadn't heard from him yet. He looked the man straight in the eye and grinned almost sadistically. "I'm just this old lady's brand new guard dog." His hands dug into the man even harder until his knuckles became white. "Although I haven't actually demonstrated to her what I can do yet. Would you like to be the one to let me prove myself?"
The man underneath him only gulped. The other two drunken fools, however, started to protest. "Hey, what do you think you're doing to our pal?!" In response, Gintoki near instantly cocked his head to face them and gave a gaze so sharp it could pierce straight through steel. Both men fearfully gasped in response.
The now slightly more sobered man pinned to the wall looked over to the two and choked out "It's not worth it. Let's scram." Gintoki shot one last threatening glance at the man before finally letting him go. The man caught his breath for a few seconds before saying "You've got quite the guard dog, lady." He looked warily at said guard dog and said "You... you better watch yourself, kid. If it's not me that comes after your insane ass, it'll be the rest of this town." The three men stumbled out the door, Gintoki glaring at them the entire way while breathing heavily.
Otose just loudly sighed and put a hand on her forehead. The kid refused to face her, but his still rather scary eyes followed hers for a split second. He then suddenly fell on one knee and clutched onto his torso while wincing. His breathing became as labored as it was when she first led him to the snack house.
"Geez... you were supposed to be resting. You have definitely taken the spot for the craziest stray I have picked up. Come on, up you go." She heaved her arm underneath his to take him back up the second floor.
"I told you," he groaned. "This is my debt to your husband."
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say."
The regular who was spectating stared in disbelief. "Wait... Otose, *that's* the stray you mentioned earlier? That's an entire human kid!"
She scoffed in amusement. "Yeah, so? Not so sure about the human bit anymore, but promise you won't tell anyone what you saw, will you?"
The regular sighed. "Alright, if that's what you want. But man, you are one strange woman, Otose."
She faintly smiled. "Sure, and that's why you keep coming back."
"Very true."
-----
"Almost. Wanna try again?"
"Ok. My name... is... Sakata Gintoki. Your name is... Yoshida Shouyo, but I call you... Shouyo-sensei. You are... my... teacher."
"Good! Now tell me something about yourself."
"I have wavy and silver hair. You say that... I am about... six years old. You gave me... October 10th... as a... um..."
"A birthday."
"Oh, birthday. You gave me October 10th as a birthday."
"I'm impressed! To think you could barely speak when I met you." Gintoki beamed with pride. "Do you want to try reading again?"
The boy visibly deflated. "But I'm... still not very good..."
"Of course not, my silly little samurai, that's why we practice. No one is expecting you to be a master at reading or writing on the first try. We can take as long as we need."
"Okay..."
-
Again? Gintoki was getting real sick of these Shouyo dreams that happened to conveniently reveal important and relevant plot points.
He reasoned he had to have been on edge is all. He had been without a proper sword by his side since he was taken to prison, which was the first time in years he hadn't had one. Even if he managed to snag a bokuto after being released, he still felt so vulnerable. Even if he could use his fist like the past night, it just didn't feel right being without a blade.
On the other hand, even considering the new sword ban, Gintoki wasn't sure he could even handle holding a real blade at the moment. Every time he saw one, he thought back to the blade of his own sword covered in his teacher's blood. He wanted so bad to prove that bastard Oboro wrong, but in the end it was true that he could barely hold a proper sword again.
Guess he had to be fine with feeling uneasy for now.
The adrenaline powered bout with the drunken bastards had set back his recovery by a bit, and even though he just woke up, his body was begging to be allowed to rest again.
But damn it, he didn't want to see Shouyo again. If only he could convince himself that he had something other than a single ordinary bokuto - maybe then he would be left alone.
At the corner of the room was a long forgotten broomstick. Close enough, he thought. He painstakingly crawled out of his futon and to the broom before grabbing onto it and crawling back. He held onto the stick as he tried to fall asleep again, almost like a child sleeping with a teddy bear.
-----
"Gintoki, if you're gonna be carrying that broom around all the time, did you at least want to use it? I could use the help."
It had been about a week since that silver haired stray showed up at Tatsugoro's grave. His fever had subsided for the most part, but his movements were still rather sluggish. Regardless, he still insisted on moving around upstairs and the bar.
Otose could guess why the kid kept that broom with him. He didn't have easy access to a real sword thanks to the ban, but as an ex Joui rebel he likely felt uneasy without something other than a bokuto by his side, even if it was basically another bokuto with a brush.
But, he still got up from the spot at the bar he was sitting at and looked for dusty spots without any complaints or remarks.
And after that, he cleaned the windows. Then he helped wipe down the tables. Then he organized glasses. Sometimes he seemed to space out, but otherwise he had no problems.
"Gintoki, would you mind helping me sharpen these knives next?"
"...Alright."
He seemed to have a decent technique in sharpening the blades. Only when he paused for a moment did Otose realize she might have fucked up asking him to do this.
Gintoki was now staring at his own reflection in the knife. His breaths became shallow and slightly shaken, although still even. A few beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he brought up his hand to stare at its reflection as well. He tried to shake off whatever he was thinking and carefully refocused his attention back to the whetstone, grabbing onto it with a trembling hand. It was clear to Otose that things would only get worse if he continued.
"Hey, kid, relax... just sit down for now, would you?"
He scoffed. "I'm fine, granny." Still, he took the opportunity to grab tightly onto his emotional support broom and tread over to one of the empty booths. His eyes looked nowhere in particular.
She couldn't help but wonder what he saw in the blade's reflection. Maybe he just got real sick of cutting enemies down? No, it was probably something deeper, she reasoned. Not that she bothered to ask.
"Can you give me something else to do? I'm not sure I can handle sitting here alone with my thoughts much longer. Preferably not involving a knife."
"I mean, there's presumably nothing stopping you from walking around town to find something. Hell, you could even find something that'll make you some money to pay me back."
Gintoki looked out the window. "Around town, huh? I'm not really familiar with the places here."
"Well, I need to go out to do some shopping and restocking later today anyways. I could show you around if you come with me."
"Alright..."
-----
"Shouyo-sensei, I have a question."
"Of course, my little samurai."
"When you found me, on that field. You said something like 'swords are used to protect your soul'. What did that mean? What even is a soul, really?"
"Ah, I'm surprised you still remember that. You could barely even talk at the time."
"I was better at listening than talking I think."
"Well, let's see. Your soul is a lot of things. Your soul is your pride, your personal code, the things you hold dear, your honor, your beliefs. It describes everything about you that isn't your physical body or abilities."
"Okay, but... how do you defend it?"
"Hmm... how about we look at your soul, for example. What is something you believe in?"
"Umm.... I believe that... you should keep any promise you make. And don't go back on it just because."
"That's a good thing to have in your soul. Well, to defend your soul you'll need to defend that belief as well. Defend your ability to keep any promise."
"With a sword?"
"Not always of course. Swords aren't the only thing you can use to protect your soul. Sure, some parts of your soul might be protected with a sword or a fist, but there are other ways as well."
"How do you protect your soul?"
Shouyo laughed. "Well, that's a little more complicated for a monster like me, but there are a few things you can still understand. For example, you're something I hold dear to me. So to protect my own soul, I protect you and your soul too."
"But why? Why am I something you hold dear?"
"What do you mean, my little samurai?"
"I'm only a kid you picked up from a field with a bunch of corpses. What's so special about me? It's not like we're related."
"Sure, Gintoki, you might just be the boy I found sitting all alone with the crows. But in a way, seeing you there reminded me of myself. We're both just monsters cast aside by the rest of society left to fend for themselves. If I left you there, it would be like abandoning a shadow of myself." Shouyo ruffled the kid's fluffy, silver hair. "You need not worry about the details, my little samurai. Just know that even if we're not related by blood, as my student, you mean to me as just as much, if not more than, if you were."
"Okay. I wanna protect your soul too then."
"If that's what you need to protect yours, then by all means you can try."
-
"For fuck's sake... not again." Gintoki groaned as he got up from his futon. "Ugh... my head still feels fuzzy."
Once his vision cleared a bit, he looked up from where he sat up to find a man standing in front of him. The man had straight, long, dirty blond hair and soft eyes looking down at him. Gintoki rubbed his eyes but the man did not disappear.
"No... no... please."
"What's wrong, my little samurai?" the man asked softly.
"Why... why do you keep coming back, sensei?" He balled his hands into fists and looked down to the floor. "I already cut off your head. What more do you want from me?! Why are you still haunting me?!"
"You tell me. I'm just a figment of your imagination. Perhaps there's something you haven't moved on from?"
"How would I know?" Gintoki replied just above a whisper, eyes still averted from the man in front of him. "How can I know anything? I clearly don't know how to protect anyone."
"Gintoki, if you truly believe that, then why did you just promise to protect someone you just met?"
Gintoki sighed. "I don't know. I shouldn't have made it. Everyone who gets close to me gets hurt. Things would have been easier if I just died in that graveyard."
"But if I recall, my little samurai, you told me that you believed that people should keep their promises, did you not? Keeping promises is how you protect your soul, right?"
"Shouyo, I've already broken many promises. I promised to protect the others at Shouka Sonjuku, and yet most of them are dead. My soul is already broken. Is there any left for me to protect?"
Shouyo bent down to be at Gintoki's eye level and gave his signature smile. "Gintoki, just because your soul is broken doesn't mean you can't fix it. Even us monsters have souls that can be healed."
Gintoki's eyes finally looked at the man in front of him and narrowed in confusion. "What you mean? How do you fix a broken soul?"
"The worst thing you can do for your soul is abandon it. Even if it takes a seemingly fatal blow, it will heal with time as long as you keep protecting it. You made another promise, right? Even if you don't believe you can keep it, your soul did. That's why you still made it. Perhaps going through with it will allow your soul the opportunity to heal."
"But what if I hurt the old lady just by being there? Like everyone else I tried to protect."
"I think both you and I know she isn't a monster like us. Besides, you've already protected her once, right?"
"I guess..."
"Just keep listening to what your soul tells you. If danger comes the lady's way, simply defend against it." Shouyo ruffled Gintoki's hair. "Don't you fret, my little samurai. There's still plenty for you to protect."
With that, he stood up and left without another word, leaving Gintoki to take in the surrounding silence.
-
That dream was the last time he saw Shouyo so frequently. He still occasionally visited, sometimes in dreams and other times in nightmares, but it seemed that he had successfully relayed whatever he wanted to get across to his student.
That tour of Kabuki-cho with Otose introduced Gintoki to all of the types of people, places, and potential opportunities he had were he to stay here as a guard dog.
The promise to be a guard dog was on a whim - a basic needs starved, clouded judgement on a whim - so he hadn't really thought about what it had entailed when he made it. Regardless, his healing soul required he go through with it.
The promise meant he had to be wherever the old lady was, and that happened to be in one of the most chaotic towns in all of Edo. Gintoki decided it was good enough.
While touring the town, he came across many potential jobs that were ready to hire even the sketchiest of people. But in the end, it was never his nature to stick to one thing. Not when he roamed the battlefields as a child, not when he travelled place to place with Shouyo, and not when strategizing with his comrades in the war. Being a jack of all trades just seemed to call to him better than settling down with one career.
His solution? Advertise himself as a man of many jobs. If anyone needed help doing even the most mundane of tasks, he was the man to call. He put up flyers everywhere imploring people to come to him for any sort of odd job. He even put in a little more effort into his appearance to look appealing to customers. He found this shop that exclusively sold a blue wave patterned yukata he took a liking to. A little ironic, considering he famously couldn't swim, but he thought it suited him regardless.
He also swapped out his worn down bokuto (and broom) for a better quality one. Instead of having to carry around two sticks, he decided to get a meaningful etching onto just one, "Lake Toya". Even if it was just to replicate the cheap souvenir he got a long time ago, he found comfort in it as a good luck charm.
He set up his station just above Otose Snack House. This way, he could continue to be the guard dog he promised to an old lady's dead husband. Of course, this meant that he would have to continue paying rent, but he figured he would be doing that anywhere else as well.
But was it enough to fix his empty soul? At first, he thought it would be, but as the years passed by, and as coworkers came and left, he was starting to feel unsure again. He even started drinking and gambling more often just to feel like he wasn't so isolated.
By the time Yorozuya reached its tenth anniversary, Gintoki felt almost as lonely and lost as he did in that prison cell.
Maybe he should flip another coin to determine what he'd do next. What the sides would be, however, he didn't know.
-----
Otose was but an old lady who sold snacks and drinks in a bar that happened to reside in the craziest part of Edo. She cleaned glasses, chatted with regulars, and fed stray cats.
But her life was undoubtedly different from ten years ago, before she met that scrawny kid at the graveyard who promised to be her guard dog. And it showed all around her, and even a floor above her. She could often overhear the conversations up there, and today was no different.
"OIIIII! Kagura-chan, give me back my glasses!"
"Don't you worry, Shinpachi. I'll keep you safe from that weird black haired freak over there."
"Why are you talking to my glasses like I take them hostage?! And who am I supposed to be if you call those glasses Shinpachi?!"
A deeper voice joined. "Come on, Kagura, don't be so rough on the kid." The exaggerated sound of glasses getting snatched was made apparent. "You must treat Pachie here with utmost care. You were about the snap the poor thing in half."
"Gin-san, you too?! Who even am I to you people?!"
Otose looked back down at her glass she was drying. "Damn hooligans. They're gonna scare away the customers one of these days." she said quietly to herself, although she stifled a smile.
"Otose-sama, would you like me to tell them to quiet down?"
"Don't worry about it, Tama. There's no amount of scolding we can do that will shut those fools up."
"Yeah, it feels like we mind it more than the actual customers do. If they did you'd be out of business in days."
"If that happens I'm taking you down with me, Catherine."
"What?! No fair!" she complained.
"Since when have you cared about fairness?" Otose replied loudly, but without any bite.
"If I may, now you and Catherine-sama are causing just as much disruption." Tama pointed out.
Otose just scoffed before taking out a cigarette to light.
It was true that Tatsugoro brought her an odd stray all those years ago, but it turned out that the stray brought even more strays that were just as odd as him.
Not that she would admit it, but having all these strays around wasn't so bad.