Chapter Text
The sun had already set by the time Gintoki and Takasugi reached their conclusion: they had to destroy Shouyo's crystallized heart. If everything went according to plan, the ship they were on would arrive in Edo by morning.
“Well,” Gintoki said, stretching as he stood up from his seat. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Takasugi admitted. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
As they made their way down the hall, several crew members greeted them enthusiastically. When they finally reached the kitchen door a stocky man with tanned skin and an easygoing smile appeared. It was the captain.
“Takasugi-san, Sakata-san! What brings ya here?”
“If we’re standing in front of the kitchen, what do you-”
“It doesn’t matter,” the captain interrupted, waving off Gintoki’s response as if he hadn’t even heard him. “This is where the food is made, but don’t worry, dinner will be ready soon.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to-”
“What’s for dinner?” Takasugi asked without paying attention.
“Hey! Not you too! Stop acting like I’m not here!”
“Rice,” the captain answered plainly.
“Go to hell, you bastards.”
“Just rice?” Takasugi questioned raising an eyebrow.
“Yep. We’ve got some leftover vegetables, but not enough to make a proper meal for everyone. If we tried, we’d have to make different dishes, which would take too much time and effort. So, I figured it’d be easier if everyone just had the same thing. It’s simple, but at least it’s fair. Anyway, we’ll reach port tomorrow.”
“Lots of excuses, not enough action,” Gintoki sighed, scratching the back of his neck. A few crew members nearby finally seemed to pick up on his frustration. About time, he thought. “Look, I get the situation, but I really don’t feel like going to bed after a boring meal. We’ve got a rough day ahead of us, you know?” He glanced at Takasugi, who returned his gaze knowingly. “We can take care of it.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? Wait—!” Takasugi protested, but Gintoki had already grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him into the kitchen. The cooks stopped their work and turned to watch, intrigued.
“What exactly are you planning?” Takasugi demanded.
“What I just said.” Gintoki replied as he tied a tasuki around his kimono sleeves and tossed an apron at him he took from a shelf. “Let’s cook, Takasugi-kun.”
The captain watched in astonishment as the two men took control of the kitchen. Though it was clear that Gintoki was the one giving orders and directing the crew, Takasugi quickly fell into step, anticipating what was needed without exchanging many words. The way they moved was precise, almost instinctual, chopping vegetables in no time and setting them to cook as if they had done this a hundred times before.
It was almost funny to the Captain, how the whole thing had started over a simple complaint, reminding him of stubborn children refusing to eat what they were given. And yet, when these two did it, even something as mundane as cooking became a spectacle.
By the end of the hour, they had prepared a meal for all 48 people aboard.
Later, they gathered in the ship’s narrow dining area, where crates served as makeshift tables and chairs. As Gintoki, Takasugi, the captain, and the other cooks carried the food out, the crew erupted into applause and cheers for their “saviors” of an otherwise bland meal.
The captain, however, crossed his arms and seemed more annoyed than glad. “Ungrateful bastards!” he barked, but his protests were drowned out by laughter.
Gintoki and Takasugi found seats facing each other, balancing their plates on wooden boxes. A few crew members offered them drinks, but Gintoki waved them off, much to his own regret. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow. Better keep my head clear.”
Takasugi nodded in agreement, also declining the alcohol. But that didn’t stop the others from drinking heavily, soon singing and dancing with reckless abandon.
“You know, Takasugi…” Gintoki began, picking at his food, “if it weren’t for you, I’d be enjoying my bean jam mochi right now, from the famous Enshichi candy store, no less, but you ruined it.”
“That was your fault,” Takasugi replied without missing a beat.
“How the hell was that my fault?! Do you know how far I traveled to get that?”
“I thought you were traveling for… other reasons.”
“Yeah, but I made time for some sweets too! Don’t tell me you didn’t treat yourself during your trips.”
They soon found themselves talking about their travels over the past two years, sharing stories of the places they'd visited and the experiences they'd had while searching for Shouyo’s heart. Surprisingly, they realized they had been to many of the same spots, just at different times. Gintoki joked about how his balls nearly froze climbing a mountain, prompting Takasugi to point out that was bound to happen since he went during winter, unlike him, who chose summer. Gintoki paused, wondering if Takasugi had planned his route that way on purpose, just to keep his balls from freezing.
As the night deepened, the crew’s revelry grew louder. Eventually, the captain, red-faced and slurring from alcohol, announced it was time to go to sleep. He led Gintoki and Takasugi to a small cabin, only lit by a flickering gas lamp. Two makeshift beds sat side by side, so close they could have been one large bed.
“This is where ya two will sleep,” the captain declared.
“Don't tell me... you want us to share this tiny room?” Gintoki demanded to know, feeling the joy from before fading.
“There's nothing to be done... you came unannounced after all” Takasugi pointed out dryly.
“So it's my fault now? Didn't you expect me to get on the ship?”
“I never said that...”
The captain, seemingly oblivious to their argument, bowed his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t prepare something better for ya, after all ya did for us…”
“Uh… don’t worry about it. I guess I was overreacting-”
“Very good then. Until tomorrow!” the captain exclaimed, waving his arm in farewell and leaving abruptly.
“That bastard did it on purpose!” Gintoki shouted as he pointed with one hand at the departing figure and clenched his fist with the other.
“It’s not a big deal. Besides, it’s just one night,” Takasugi said, entering the cabin and settling onto the right bed. He removed his sandals and haori, getting comfortable. Gintoki hesitated at first but, with no better option, followed and sat on the left bed.
The room fell into a heavy silence. Gintoki began undoing his sandals when Takasugi broke it.
“You know… today reminded me of the old days.”
Gintoki met his gaze, pretending not to understand. “What do you mean?”
“Years ago, during the war, when we were with Zura, Tatsuma, and the others…” Takasugi began, his voice tinged with melancholy, especially on the last words. The others was his way of referring to their fallen comrades. “Sometimes, it was our turn to cook. It was chaotic, but also fun,” he added softly.
Gintoki was thrown off by Takasugi’s sudden nostalgia.
“What’s this? A sleepover? You want a confession night?” he teased. “And for the record, if the kitchen was chaotic, it was your fault. I always knew what I was doing. I was the best cook out of the four of us.”
“Well, I can’t deny that last part,” Takasugi admitted with a slight smile.
“But your food’s always been so bland. I never got why, especially since you’re so picky about what you eat,” Gintoki replied, resting his cheek on his hand in mock exasperation.
“Hey,” Takasugi muttered, his smile already fading.
“But you’re right… it was fun. Until you guys left.”
The room grew cold. Gintoki avoided Takasugi’s gaze, focusing on removing his haori as he lay down. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that, it felt like something buried deep had forced its way out. And yet, he regretted it immediately. It sounded like he was blaming him. But how could he? With what right?
Just ignore me. Forget I said that.
“Until we left? You mean Zura and me?” Takasugi asked quietly.
God damn.
“The three of us agreed to go our own way after everything that happened and leave the camp. You don’t remember?” Takasugi asked, looking puzzled.
Gintoki hesitated for a moment whether to answer or not. “I… I didn’t leave right away. I stayed there for a while.”
“You alone?”
“Not completely. Some men stayed too… Sakamoto came back to say goodbye too.”
“Why?”
“Why did Sakamoto come?”
“No,” Takasugi replied impatiently. “Why did you stay?”
“I don’t know. Does it even matter now?”
Takasugi opened his mouth to push further but stopped. The answer was obvious. Gintoki would never have asked them to stay, not after beheading Shouyo. Pressing him on it felt pointless.
Instead, he asked softly, “Are you mad at us… at me?”
Gintoki couldn’t help but look away, discomfort gnawing at him as the conversation veered into territory he hated revisiting. Talking about his past was never easy, but the time between Shouyo’s death and the start of the Yorozuya was especially unbearable. He had spent years trying to forget it, burying the memories deep. Not even Zura knew the full story, and now, out of nowhere, Takasugi was asking for honesty about something that had happened twelve years ago.
“I get it,” Takasugi muttered, cutting through Gintoki’s thoughts.
You stayed there, waiting for us to return, didn’t you? We should’ve stayed by your side. But seeing you hurt was too much for me. I thought being there would only make it worse for you. I was angry, at everyone, but mostly at myself. In the end, I was only thinking about me. I made you carry the burden and walked away. And you walked away, too.
These were the things Takasugi wished he could say, but the words could not leave his mouth.
“We always seem to run from each other, don’t we?” he mumbled instead.
Takasugi tried to meet Gintoki’s gaze, but Gintoki turned his back on him. Accepting his friend’s rejection, Takasugi sighed and shifted to lie down, until he felt someone lean in, barely resting his head on his shoulder.
“There’s no need to talk about it now,” Gintoki whispered. “We’ll have plenty of time later.”
“Yes… we will,” Takasugi replied softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
However, when Gintoki lifted his head, he saw Takasugi bloodied in his arms. His heart sank.
“No... Stop... I’ve a lot of things I want to tell you...”
Slowly, but surely, Takasugi closed his right eye.
“NO!”
Takasugi’s chest rose and fell for the last time, disregarding his pleas. Death waits for no one.
PLEASE DON’T GO! Gintoki tried to scream desperately, but no sound came. His lungs burned for air, and he felt as if he were suffocating. Then, suddenly, he jolted awake. His pulse raced, palms slick with sweat, mouth dry, and breaths heavy.
“It was just a nightmare,” he gasped, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “Just another nightmare.”
Gintoki struggled to fall back asleep and ended up waking later than usual the next morning.
“I’m tired of sleeping in the closet, you know? I can barely breathe in there. It’s about time you give me back my room!” complained to the blue-eyed girl.
Kagura responded nonchalantly, “Nope, that’s what you get for being an old man. I slept there for ages and nothing happened to me. Besides, I’m the vice president of the Yorozuya now, yes?”
Gintoki wanted to argue further, but Kagura declared the matter closed and went to take a bath. Shinpachi, who was cleaning in the same room, couldn’t help but smile.
“She’s a growing girl, Gin-san. She needs her space.”
“I’m a grown man who needs his space!” Gintoki shot back. “This is my apartment, dammit! Who do you think pays the rent, huh?”
“You haven’t paid rent in over two years,” Shinpachi replied dryly.
“SHINPACHIII!” Kagura yelled from the bathroom. “Can you bring me the shampoo?!”
“If we're not careful, we'll both end up under her thumb. I’m telling you, Patsuan” Gintoki warned.
“As if that hadn’t happened already,” Shinpachi teased. “I’m coming!”
As the teen left the room, Gintoki sat at his old desk. It had been three weeks since Takasugi’s death. Some days, he could smile and forget, but other days, the memory hit him like a ton of bricks. Today was one of those days. On days like this, he’d open the top drawer and take out the letter Sakamoto had sent him, rereading it in search of comfort in his words, hoping it would ease the weight of the loss, even if just for a brief instant.
I believe that after pouring everything into the Altana and disappearing, he became a part of the Altana and protected his disciples through it all. So there’s no reason to feel lonely.
There was no reason for Gintoki to feel that way. It wasn’t the first time he had lost someone close to him. Throughout the war, many of his friends had died, and he had moved on. Shouyo’s death had been far harder to face because he had been alone. But now, things were different. He was surrounded by people, and he would get over it. He reminded himself of that.
However, the postscript of the letter, rather than reassuring him, only bothered him.
This is something I heard when I met up with Zura the other day. The remnants of the Kiheitai were making some odd movements.
While one part of the letter brought him some peace, this postscript was what kept him up at night. “Stupid Tatsuma,” he muttered. He knew Matako and Takechi were searching for Takasugi in various Dragon Holes, but that was just a dream. An illusion. There was no way that-
A ring at the door interrupted his thoughts.
He heard Shinpachi answer it. “Nice to see you, Katsura-san!”
Gintoki sighed, rolling his eyes for a moment, and put the letter back in the desk drawer next to a smoking pipe.
“So late, and still in pajamas, Gintoki?” Katsura chided as he entered and took off his straw hat.
“Leave me alone, Zura. If you’re here to bother me, you can go back the way you came,” Gintoki replied flatly.
“Come on, don’t be like that, Gin-san. Would you like some tea, Katsura-san?”
“Yes, please,” Katsura replied kindly to Shinpachi. Turning sharply to Gintoki, he added, “And it’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. Why can’t you be more like him?”
“You already know how I am, Zura, and that’s not going to change.”
“I know, and that’s precisely why I came here. Have you eaten well? Are you sleeping enough?”
“If you’re here to ‘cheer me up’ again,” Gintoki said, making air quotes, “I swear I’ll-”
“Not at all. Or not exactly. It’s about Takasugi. He’s alive.”
So take a look at me now, well there's just an empty space
And there's nothin' left here to remind me, just the memory of your face
Now take a look at me now, 'cos there's just an empty space
But to wait for you, is all I can do and that's what I've got to face
Take a good look at me now, 'cos I'll still be standin' here
And you coming back to me is against all odds
It's the chance I've gotta take
(Phil Collins - Against All Odds)