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I’ve never been one to lie or sweet talk, that you know.
You’re ugly when you cry on nights you’re feeling low.
Though it rarely happens - you’re strong and I like that -
Some nights when you relax, it appears like a rat.
Your fears and your past: they’re still raw, I know.
But each time you shed a tear, I just wish that they’d go.
I can tell you fear them, those nights your control slips.
And each morning when you awaken, your confidence dips.
You’re ugly when you cry, your face screwed in pain,
fingertips acting out memories and tears leaving stains.
I run my palm down your back and draw pictures along your spine
because now the pain is over; you’re with me; you’re fine.
You’re ugly when you cry because I still don’t understand.
I reassure you every night and you know that tears are banned.
But they never stop returning; it's like trying to stop the rain.
And no matter how hard I shelter you, you just won't let go of pain.
The Weight of a Dagger, The Weight of a Sword
There's a numbness in my fingers; they no longer feel like my own. My control is slipping, so I've made my decision. I erase the images of faces in my mind because I can't bear to see them at this time. I couldn't go forwards if they were here. Thinking of them will only make me wish I was back there, in that apartment. My family - the only family I've ever known - hear me out. I know you won't understand, but you'll know. You'll know I've done this because you're precious to me, more valuable than my life – you already know that. I shut my eyes, still walking because they're coming back to me. I can see them all clearly – only my memories are fresh and functional. My legs feel heavy and are trying to slow down. They know my fate, even if I'm no longer completely in charge of them any more.
Finding my place to die alone like a mutt, I'll curl up where no one will find me. My greatest fear is if I carry on, those two will have to end me like I had to end Shouyo. I can't be the barrier to their happiness. As this curse takes over me and I'm less able to make my own decisions, I'll end it. I'll end me, the lost soul that should have died years ago when I was orphaned on a battlefield. It'll be quick, painless. It's ironic that someone like me is going to save the earth. Maybe someone smarter like Zura would be able to find another way out of this.
I can't.
There's nothing left to decide now, no more reason to wait. I've found an appropriate place. I have the tool to do so. Why am I waiting? Why is my hand shaking? Fuck. Get a hold of yourself. You've killed so many people and now your hand is trembling? You've held a sword all your life, but one small dagger? …
Fuck. Why am I crying?
…
I just don't want to say goodbye to them yet.
Kagura and Shinpachi were sprinting alongside the Shinsengumi. It wasn't normal police business to be chasing after a lost man, but this one was special, and he had been sighted a few minutes ago entering an abandoned warehouse after being missing for months. They knew that if they didn't get there soon, they could lose their only lead to their friend who had vanished without warning. Hijikata Toshiro surprised himself at how desperate he had become to find Gintoki. His feet were skittering under him he was running so fast. He was just praying he didn't trip because he knew he didn't have time to slow down. Kagura was gritting her teeth so tightly it was a wonder she hadn't bit her tongue yet. She broke off from the group along with Sougo, sprinting on ahead. Kondo was confirming their intel whilst running, radio pressed tightly against his ear. They were all running as fast as they could to find one man, it was insane, and for the past few weeks Hijikata had been grumbling at Kondou to calm down. He kept saying that Gintoki was fine on his own, he knew what he was doing. Yet there he was, stumbling through a large industrial park around craters and cargo lined up on either side frantically trying to catch this man before he disappeared again.
And then there was that sixth sense telling him something was amiss.
“Spread out and search!” He ordered. They were there. This was the warehouse. He wrenched open the metal doors and scattered to the right. Some of his men went left. Kagura ran straight ahead to search the bottom floor. Shinpachi was close behind. The metal staircase clanged and this was the most conspicuous operation he had ever run. No quiet stealth, get in and find him.
Before it was too late.
There was a scream and Hijikata had span on his heels quicker than a strike of lightning, clunking back down the stairs. The scream was a heart-wrenching sob that echoed through the building. Kagura was howling at the top of her lungs. Hijikata felt sick. Her voice cracked and whined. She was simply crying – she didn't utter a single coherent word. She was letting her soul out in agony. Hijikata passed a few of his men who were turning away from the scene he was fighting to get to. He tripped and would have ended up on his face if he hadn't have hung onto a supporting pillar beside him. He regained his balance and got his feet under him, looking up only to have his legs fall from under him again.
Even in years to come, Hijikata would loath that the scene he came to see was disgustingly beautiful.
A statue in white was frozen in time, framed by a flood of the purest of red coloured blood. White eyelashes rested on pale porcelain cheeks, stark white hair bright in the darkness. Limp hands rested in his lap as he rested against the grey wall by his side. The samurai slept on unperturbed by the resonating scream disturbing the semi-darkness. All this white was dyed orange in the setting sunlight. Blood orange spilled through broken rafters above onto the cold concrete, casting a false image of warmth onto the frozen scene.
And Gintoki didn't react when Kagura called his name.
All sound faded out. Hijikata could see Kagura crying out, scrambling across to her family between sobs that wracked her whole body. He could no longer hear her over the rush of blood in his ears, the thud of time that passed with Gintoki not moving. No one had even moved to check his pulse. There was no need. Sakata Gintoki was dead, and when the pieces clicked into place one by one and slowly, agonisingly slowly, Hijikata realised it had been suicide ... he wretched. He was close to throwing up as all his senses drowned him. It was too much to take in. The hand on his shoulder didn't stop him from choking on bile in his throat. He was on the floor, hands trembling. The search was over. The months of investigation had come to this. He couldn’t watch anymore as Kagura clawed across the carpet of blood to get to him, grasping at his chest and begging his eyes to open. His head rolled back to a sickening angle – Hijikata's stomach heaved again. Shinpachi stayed a distance away, just staring blankly. He hadn’t uttered a sound. Elsewhere, Sougo turned away and disappeared somewhere. Deep in his subconscious, Hijikata felt compelled to follow but his legs weren’t budging.
He couldn’t even remember the last conversation he had shared with Gintoki, and now his lips were permanently sealed. There was no smile on his expression, no look of peace. In reality, corpses weren’t like that. A corpse was vacant; it was just the vessel for the soul that powered it. Before him was the body which had stood beside him in battle, encouraged him in his darkest hours and shared with him some of his best. The man who he knew was no longer there, though.
Because Sakata Gintoki no longer existed anywhere.