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Hijikata had this funny thing he did when he slept. He even did it when he napped, like he was doing now, sprawled on the Yorozuya sofa with his boots kicked off to the side. He often curled into a ball, like a cat, his knees drawn into his chest. This stood in stark contrast to how Gintoki would stretch and takeover the whole bed. Sometimes Gintoki would wake up alone and instinctively reach out to find the other warm presence in his bed – it was like reaching into space and time to find wherever Hijikata was huddled under the blanket. None of this was as peculiar as something else he would do, and Gintoki wasn’t even sure he was aware: he’d cover his face with the back of his hand. Wherever he was sleeping and whichever position he was in, one hand would rest across his eyes, like he was hiding his expression. It felt like even when sleeping, Hijikata was trying to maintain his stoic aura.
Gintoki paused, a dollop of cake mixture sucked into his mouth, in order to admire the strange figure snoozing on the couch. He wouldn’t make a sound, not even a soft snore. Gintoki had often wondered if he would notice if Hijikata stopped breathing one day. His breaths were so shallow and subdued, which made the nights Gintoki laid awake eerily silent. Again, the direct opposite of Gintoki who snored like a hippo. He swallowed the sweet gloop and placed the wooded spoon on the kitchen side, sparing a minute or so to tease his partner on the sofa. Very gently, he removed the hand covering those frowning eyes. He had a sprinkle of flour in his fist and steadily began dusting it on Hijikata’s nose. There followed a few undignified snorts and coughs, before Hijikata snapped awake – ever the light sleeper.
“Whathaveyoudonne~” he complained, already sensing he’d been made fun of.
“Nothing, sweetie,” Gintoki grinned, “If you don’t leave soon, you’ll run over your lunch break.”
“Ahh,” Hijikata murmured and suddenly a huge yawn split his face. He stretched like a cat, wriggling right down to his fingertips, and then staring blankly at the floor. “Time to go,” he said, but didn’t move an inch.
“Yes, Mr Vice Commander,” Gintoki slapped his back with some force until he automatically scampered onto his feet. “People will wonder where you’ve been.”
“Haven’t you got work to do yourself?”
“It’s lunch time.”
“You’re baking a cake.”
“I said it’s lunch time.”
Hijikata didn’t hide the irritated scowl that creased his expression. His eyes were still hazy with post-nap fatigue. “Yer not eating cake for lunch.”
“I have to meet my recommended daily allowance for sugar, or I die.”
“Then just die, you useless fish brain.”
He finally found the energy to move, wriggling his feet back into his boots. Gintoki watched him carefully as he buttoned his shirt and adjusted his cravat.
“Not that I care,” he began, making sure that his expression showed as much indifference as possible, “but something must be going on, right? If the vice-commander is sleeping through his lunch break.” Hijikata shrugged on his jacket, wordlessly. He was already reaching for a cigarette. “You can’t keep coming over. The kids will get suspicious.”
“Why do you care?” Hijikata flicked his lighter. Gintoki paced over to pluck the cigarette from his mouth.
“Don’t go smoking in my house.” He scolded. Hijikata kept a cool gaze, inches from Gintoki.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news. We’ve had to up patrolling after the terminal incidents.”
“Ahh, that,” Gintoki grinned, knowing he had perhaps two minutes to tease him before Hijikata had to leave. “The Joui getting the better of the Shinsengumi. I thought your job was to arrest them. And yet, they’ve been running riot on the city, bombing some of the minor amanto shipping terminals.”
“It won’t be long before we catch them.” Hijikata was not moving away. They stood face on to each other, neither flinching.
“It better not be. Poor, innocent civilians like myself live in fear, you know.” He made sure to bump foreheads with Hijikata, expecting an imminent explosion of abuse.
“You’re poor, but you ain’t innocent. You’re lucky I’m not arresting you. For … something.”
“Then arrest me, Vice-Commander.” His grin was sly and infuriating, more so because now Hijikata didn’t want to leave and the hesitation in his expression was evident. Eventually he sighed, reluctantly.
“I’ve got to go. Another long day ahead.” As he began to leave, Gintoki leapt over the kitchen counter to the fridge and rummaged inside. He flung something at Hijikata’s back just before he left the room. “What the fuck?” He flinched, picking up the item.
“You didn’t get chance to eat, right?” Gintoki grinned and Hijikata eyed the baguette suspiciously.
“… Thanks.”
“That’s 1,057 yen!” He called as he heard the muffled sliding of the front door.
“Fuck you!”
“Thanks for visiting Gintoki’s Convenience Store, come again soon.” There was no reply, but Gintoki could hear the thuds of angry footsteps descending the steps outside. “Or Gintoki’s Service Station, as this place is becoming.”
He sighed, realising reluctantly that he didn’t have time to put his cake in the oven and since neither of the kids had returned, there’d be no one to monitor it. Not that he’d trust them not to eat it. He gave the cake mix one last whisk (the spoon one last lick), covered it, then found his discarded bokuto, returning it to where it always sat on his hip. The weight was familiar and comforting. On his desk was a scrap of paper with an address scrawled in shorthand, where Gintoki had quickly noted it while balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. He now pocketed it and made his way for the door.
“Time to find out what disasters you’ve been concocting, Zura.”
The address was as sketchy as Gintoki imagined it would be, and if not for the duo of joui pretending to be taking a smoking break, he would have walked right past. The single-floor house was like a matchbox, squished between a hundred other matchboxes along the route to the Western Terminal. The streets were empty, and at least a mile down the road, Gintoki knew the Shinsengumi were patrolling the remains of the 25m tall cylindrical tower that had been the terminal. Now, the figure was smoking gently on the horizon, puffing black, toxic fumes into a dark blanket that covered the sun. The Western Terminal was only a small Amanto station, one that fed into the large terminal in the city centre. Small terminals like this filtered the huge volumes of space traffic in the main terminal, allowing multiple stages of embarkation from which ships simply rode the air lanes towards the main terminal. From there, it would be a simple case of waiting in the queue of ships to be jettisoned into space. WT, as it was also known, was one of four victims of the recent bombing campaign by the joui: the most recent case.
Gintoki had huge reservations about responding to this plea for assistance. He considered that it might be a trap: some unknown male asking him to come to a remote location to help his ‘friend’. Who in their right mind would come alone to something like this? But the friend in question was Zura, and he knew he couldn’t stay away. He’d have to respond. For once, the risk was too high to invite the kids to come along. If he was caught up in something, it wouldn’t be a simple case of fighting his way out. This was going to be complicated.
The two men on the corner of an alleyway, glanced up and down the street, then beckoned Gintoki over. Gintoki grimaced. He had a bad feeling about this. The local area had been evacuated.
No one will even hear my screams, he shuddered. Protect me, Oh God of Pachinko, Lord of Good Fortune.
The men showed him down the dark alleyway to a door on the right. The building looked like it had once been a ryokan: the front entrance was a set of double doors which slid aside to reveal a reception-like area. There was a tall wooden counter to the right, with a small room behind it stacked high with storage boxes. Before him was a low table with cushions, books strewn across the surface. To the left was a set of stairs. With no obvious trap in this room, Gintoki headed for the stairs.
“Gintoki,” a voice gasped as he entered what had previously been a guestroom. No more than a couple of meters wide, it wasn’t hard to spot the man calling his name from the floor. “You came.”
“Zura.”
“It’s not Zura,” the man coughed, his breath wheezing. “It’s Katsura.”
“What the hell happened to you?” He’d seen his friend in worse states, but this was pretty bad. There was a deep scratch on his forehead which looked singed like a burn. On one of his hands were tiny blisters, popping maliciously. It looked painful. He was laid on a futon, his non-burned hand resting on his chest like he was protecting it.
“Few broken ribs,” Katsura replied, “A couple of burns. Think the flames got my lungs, too.”
“I didn’t ask for a diagnosis, I want to know how it happened.” The image of the burning terminal flashed in his mind. “Oh, no.”
“The Shinsengumi somehow managed to get wind of our next target.”
“Of course they figured out your next target! There aren’t that many of the minor terminals and you’ve hit three already.”
“They had a patrol there. As we were escaping, the cornered us and I had to lead them back towards the terminal in order to get away.”
“You-!” Gintoki was aghast. “Led them back towards the bomb site!”
“We make sure the explosions don’t occur in areas where there are civilians. They trapped me in the building. The only way to get out was by an emergency exit near the bomb.”
“You blew yourself up then.” He couldn’t hide his anger. It wasn’t often something riled him like this, especially not when Zura was involved. Although he didn’t agree with what Katsura was doing, he didn’t interfere. Yet, leading the Shinsengumi straight into an explosion … Maybe he was going soft after all his dealings with them.
“Not part of the plan, I’ll admit. The men with me had to evacuate me here.”
“Then why do you need my help?”
“It won’t be long until the Shinsengumi find this place. They’ve expanded the searches and begun raiding some of our bases – I don’t know how they’ve got so much intelligence on us.”
“You want me to help you escape?”
“Those two outside the door can create a distraction; I need you, old friend, to carry me out of here. I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate, Gintoki.”
Gintoki cursed and stepped aside to think, running his hands though his hair. He didn’t want any part of this. Sure, he’d helped Katsura out of a couple of sticky spots in the past, but this time was different. This time, he’d be risking getting caught by the Shinsengumi. After that, he’d be a wanted criminal. Again. It had taken him long enough to sculpt this new life, one without all the hiding and lying. To go back to it was …
Katsura coughed, sounding pained with each convulsion.
“I’ll tell some of your joui friends where you are,” Gintoki finally said, deliberation still flashing in his eyes. “But I’m not going to help you out here. Not this time.”
“Gintoki!”
“Sorry, this time I can’t do it.”
“I see …” Katsura breathed deeply and closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them, his expression was calmer. Gintoki was preparing to leave. With every second in this place, the Shinsengumi edged closer to finding them. “Then that is your decision. I doubt we can rally enough men to aid my escape. And there’s no one that can replace you, Gintoki. I’ll have to go for Plan B.”
“What’s that.”
“Hide here and hope the Shinsengumi don’t find this place.”
There was a loud crash as the front door blew open, rattling the entire house with vibrations. Gintoki whipped out his bokuto, losing his balance in the trembling and falling to his knees. Dust from the ceiling rained down and Katsura hastened to sit up, clutching his side.
“It appears we’re too late.”
“THIS IS A RAID.” Came the booming, unmistakeable roar of one blue-eyed vice-commander.
“Fuck!” Gintoki cursed. There was absolutely no where to run. The crashes continued as objects fell and smashed on the ground elsewhere. Shouts of fighting began. Katsura was on his feet. Gintoki had a choice to make.
“In the cupboard, Gintoki,” Katsura gestured to the sliding door at the right of his room – the entrance to a small cupboard. “I know you want no part in this. As soon as they find me, they’ll stop searching.” Footsteps clattered up the stairs. He had no time. “Now!” Katsura said, pushing him with one hand. His other reached for his sword.
Gintoki clambered into the cupboard and Katsura slid the door shut just in time for the vice-commander of the Shinsengumi to charge into the room, pinning Katsura easily to the far wall in less than a second.
“Katsuraa~” the man purred, their swords clattering as each resisted the other. Katsura was trying to hide the wince in his expression. Gintoki suddenly realised – he can’t fight. He’s not strong enough right now. Gintoki peered through the narrow window of light where the door had not quite shut, his hands flinching at his sides. What could he do?
“Hey, he’s injured,” another voice grinned and Gintoki recognised it to be Sougo. Great, the whole gang was here.
“We’re taking you with us.” Hijikata pushed harder, and the two conflicting blades edged towards Katsura’s throat.
“Not alive,” Katsura replied, still wheezing with the effort.
“Fine by me.” Hijikata drew back, raised his sword, and began to bring it down on Katsura.
Gintoki bolted. Before he knew it, his bokuto was parrying Hijikata’s sword away, and he flicked the tip into Hijikata’s Adam’s apple. The other man had no time to respond, choking on the new pressure on his windpipe.
“Danna!” Sougo whistled, amazed.
Hijikata stared back, astounded. His mouth hung open, sword still. Gintoki kept the pressure on his throat, waiting for the inevitable explosion. Behind him, Katsura sighed. Several seconds passed and nothing happened. The man was frozen to the spot, slowly taking in the man holding a blade to his throat. Eventually, recognition flashed in his expression, like the whole truth had come crashing down.
“Move away, Gintoki,” his voice was low and threatening, growling like a wild dog ready to bite.
“I won’t.”
“Move,” he said again, “or I’ll cut you down.” The blade in his hand quivered.
“I won’t,” Gintoki repeated, firmly.
“I have to kill Katsura.”
“I can’t let you.”
“Then I’ll have to kill you.” Even his voice was trembling now, and Gintoki was finding it hard to tell if it was rage making him unsteady, or something else. In his expression, something else was appearing. He couldn’t tell what it was. Hijikata had never looked at him like this before.
A few more of the Shinsengumi were hovering now, some looking confused and others surprised. Sougo was the most surprised. He stepped further into the room, raising his sword. “I always knew we’d clash swords,” he said, his eyes glinting with poorly concealed excitement.
Hijikata ignored him. As far as he was concerned, there were only two people in the room. “Last chance,” he whispered, the sound so quiet that Gintoki faltered. “Gintoki,” he almost pleaded, “move aside.”
“I won’t,” Gintoki repeated. On the other end of his bokuto, Hijikata’s face cracked. Betrayal was heavy in his eyes. Everything they had built over the last year splintered between them, along with the shatter of wood as Hijikata sliced through Gintoki’s bokuto.
“Then, die here, liar.”