#takasugi angst

[lilac-5ky]

As cliche as it may sound can i get a headcanon or imagine for Takasugi-kun who's strolling in the streets of edo accidentally bumps into the supposed to be dead reader (he saw her died at joui war) and she don't have any memories of him :) how will he react when he saw his lover again?

A/N: I could literally write a book with just this storyline lmfao there is something very appealing about heartbreak ;-; Funnily enough this turned out to be like a belated birthday gift to you since it took me a million years to finish, but hey happy birthday :p

Warning: This is obviously angst. Mentions of blood, depression, alcohol and smoking are included. Oh and, not really a warning but, THIS IS VERY VERY VERY LONG. Longest request I've written.

Takasugi with a presumably dead S/O reappearing in his life

Throughout the history of mankind, it's been evident that humans enjoyed observing the things around them. From studying the nature in the form of bird or flower watching, to spending hours upon hours of watching programs in their little black boxes; everyone had their vice. Takasugi was no different. Perhaps more so than others, one of the things he enjoyed the most was people watching.

There’s so much you can discover about a person just by studying them in their natural environment. How they talk, how they walk, their gestures, their laughter, all those little things reveal a great deal of information. A man who walks with his hands behind his back tends to be secretive, whereas a girl who points her shoes at the one she’s discussing with is most likely interested in them.

Takasugi always took his time noticing and analyzing such patterns. In a line of work where everyone was out to get him, picking up on these subtle cues came to be his shield of protection. After all, his intuition had yet to fail him.

While he did find some enjoyment in this hobby of his, more often than not, the conclusions he came up with disgusted him. Why was it that everyone appeared so carefree and lively when they had to share their land with the Amanto or, even worse, those filthy Bakufu dogs at the top? How could they possibly forget about what was taken from them, what was lost in the war? How could they afford to live so shamelessly, going about their days with smiles on their faces? Sometimes, he felt as if he was the only one who remembered, the only one whose wounds had yet to heal.

After such sessions, all he was left with was utter bitterness, directed at no one and everyone all at once. He detested that the world had somehow managed to move on when he was left all by himself in the past. There was no place for him to stand and breathe freely anymore. A passerby among passersby, that’s all he was. Just like the family of three that walked to his left, just like the old man selling takoyaki to his right, and just like the woman who-

“I’m so sorry!” The woman bowed. Her hands were clasped together, frantically moving up and down as if she meant to atone for the great sin of bumping into him.

“I’m terribly sorry, I really am, I’m just in a great hurry! If I don’t share these by evening, I’ll lose my job.” She went on, dropping to her knees.

An assortment of purple colored fliers had spread all around, some being carried around by the wind while the majority were scattered on the ground surrounding the two.

Looking down at her, an odd sense of familiarity rushed over him. A curtain of ruffled hair was obscuring her features, making it impossible for him to take a proper look at her face, yet he could swear this wasn’t his first time meeting with her.

Though she was the one who bumped into him, Takasugi ended up lowering himself beside her, using the fliers as an excuse to sate his curiosity. He picked the ones that were over to his side, stacking them up in a pile.

“Here.”

“Thank you so much! Once again I’m terribly sorry and, uh, please, feel free to keep one of these for a free drink!” The woman said, handing one of the fliers back to him.

The second her fingers touched his, it was as if time froze around them, or rather, as if time sent him to a bygone era, one that lived in his memories alone.

“Gotcha!” The girl said, waving his stolen headband before his eyes.

In a rapid dash, she moved out of his sight, her chuckle echoing through the endless rows of trees. She was always like that, seemingly doing everything and anything in her power to inconvenience him. His expressions were too funny; that was her reasoning and perhaps she was right. There was no malice in his glares, no real animosity that was meant for her. Though he never admitted it, the little games she put up were quite entertaining for him too.

Even when he finally caught up to her, his arms caging her body in a tight embrace, she never stopped laughing, not even for a second. He couldn’t remember what he was trying to do. Retrieve the headband? Hold her close? Time had hazed his memory in a mist, yet the one thing he was able to remember was her face. The eyes he adored staring into; the lips he adored kissing; the hair he adored caressing; everything that defined her.

Suddenly, she stopped putting up a fight, her limbs dropping on top of his arms as she turned around to face him.

“How do I look?” She asked with a smug smile, showing off the headband that was wrapped around her forehead.

Stunning as always, he thought.

“You look like you’ll never grow up.” He muttered in a stern tone. After all, his thoughts rarely matched his words when she was involved, a fact he came to terribly regret.

This face… could it be her?

He was now standing in the middle of the battlefield, the vile stench of blood and smoke numbing his senses as he moved through the countless corpses and rubble. Nothing but pain and anguish remained in the once lively village. Everything was reduced to ashes thanks to Amanto technology.

Following the explosion, a constant ringing vibrated in his ears, only falling second to the cries of a child and the shrieks of an elderly woman. No one was able to predict such calamity, not his men and certainly not him.

With each step Takasugi took, the lump in his throat increased in size, a foolish hope being the one thing that kept his legs moving forward. He’d barely realized what had just happened, barely aware of what he was searching for until his steps came to a halt. A white headband -one identical to the one he was sporting- was flowing with the wind between the rubble, confirming his worst fears at once.

Before he knew it, he was on his knees, cradling your ashen face between his fingers. Your eyes were semi-closed, blood running from the corners of your mouth. He looked at you, unable to grasp the reality that lied before him, the reality that he was about to lose you.

“Sh-Shinsuke.” A cough cut his name in half. “You came.” A frail attempt at a smile only worsened things for you, blood spewing onto his jacket.

“As I thought, it always looked best on you-” You said, your fingers trailing all the way up to his face before slowly dropping to your side.

“What are you talking about?” He failed to hide his fury. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him and certainly not to you.

“Y/N.” He spoke your name in a softer tone, but you didn’t reply.

“Y/N!” He called out again, hoping that his voice had simply gone unregistered amidst the chaos surrounding him.

“Oi, Y/N! Pull yourself together!”

By the third time, he was yelling at you, violently shaking your body to no avail.

Refusing to give up, Takasugi took your hand in his, desperately trying to get a hold of you. He squeezed at it harder and harder, as if he could keep you to life with sheer strength alone, but it was already too late. No pulse, no nothing. You were just gone.

“Takasugi, we need to go! There might be more coming, get out of there!” Even Katsura’s voice wasn’t enough to snap him out of it.

For a mere second, he wished to quit. He had seen enough carnage for a lifetime and he was tired. What were they fighting for? What was it all for if they couldn’t even protect a minuscule mountain village? How could they possibly save an entire country or, hell, even the whole world? The thought sickened him. At the moment, all he wanted to do was lie next to you, beg you to take him to wherever it was you were going.

No matter how much he wanted to do just that, Takasugi realized that such a luxury was one he could never afford. Not when so many people depended on him, not when he knew what giving up meant. No matter what, he had to keep going, with or without you. This was unfair. So unfair.

He leaned closer, his fingers slightly trembling as he pulled the headband off your forehead, replacing it with the cleaner one he was wearing. His words from that day held a different meaning now that he came to realize; you were never going to grow up. The life he dreamed with you was extinguished in a flash.

Bringing a hand to your chin, he rubbed at your skin carefully, trying his best to remove the blood from your face. You nearly looked as if you were sleeping, he thought to himself, a heartbreaking thought that only fueled the tears in his eyes.

Katsura’s yells were clearer now, meaning that he was approaching, but Takasugi was not done. He had to do this. Even when he was unable to share his true feelings with you, he needed to make sure that he could do this one thing properly, that he could give you the goodbye you deserved.

His palm made its way onto your forehead, slightly lingering before dropping above your eyes, shutting them once and for all. He glanced down at his other hand, taking a good look at the headband he retrieved. Its edges were painted in a bright scarlet color, blood having seeped through the fabric, your blood. Without thinking twice, Takasugi clenched his fist around the material, shoving it in his pocket. This was the only keepsake he could have of you, a reminder and proof of your existence.

With a sigh, he laid your body back down onto the ground, thinking that this was the last moment you shared.

Yet…could it be that it wasn’t? Could it be that this blood was fake? Could it be that those tears were fake? Could it be that the person whose eyes he closed were never yours? Could it be that the woman in front of him was, as a matter of fact, you?

By the time Takasugi snapped back to reality, the pink color of your kimono had nearly faded into the distance, leaving him utterly confused as to what he’d just experienced. He could call you out, run after you, yet looking at the flier in his hand, he got a better idea.

“Snack Smile bar? What a lackluster name.” He muttered, crumbling the paper in his fist.

“Come in, come in! Heaven’s sigh’s girls will leave you sighing!”

“Boss, how about a drink with us? We promise to take good care of you.”

“Would you like a nurse to check on your vitals or an officer to apprehend you? Whatever your fantasy, we can grant it!”

The empty promises of the hostesses served as ambient sound to Takasugi’s ears while he strolled through Kabukicho. With his hat lowered before his eyes, he attempted to blend in with the crowd, stealing a glance at the signs of the buildings as he passed them by. Many had the word bar or snack in their name, yet no writing matched the one in his flier.

If he was being honest with himself, he was unsure of what he was trying to do. Obviously, he was looking for you, but what good could possibly come out of it? Perhaps your encounter had been brief, giving you no time to realize who it was, but even so, there was no way you were unable to recognize him. Either you played dumb for whatever reason he failed to pinpoint, or he was once again chasing after the ghosts of his past. Whatever the case was, he needed an answer.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally found himself outside Snack Smile. A girl in a peachy kimono was standing by the door, calling out to any passerby who seemed interested enough to take a peek at the place. Her smile was bright, though it lacked verity. If anything, it looked as if she was trying to keep people away, rather than invite them in.

“My, are you new here? I don’t think we’ve seen your face before, dear customer.” She directed him with a sweet tone. “Please come in and we’ll make sure to turn that frown upside down!”

What am I even doing here, Takasugi pondered to himself. This was obviously a mistake.

Reluctantly, he brought two fingers to his hat, tipping it forward as a means of agreement. If anything, he was so close to his goal that he might as well walk the walk. The girl caught onto his gesture, beckoning for him to follow her to the entrance.

Unlike the rest of his subordinates and his comrades from the war, Takasugi wasn’t overly fond of such places. His visits to Yoshiwara or cabaret bars were numbered, mostly limited to the carefully timed opportunities he created to strike beneficial business deals. There were only so many men who could resist the cheap thrills a woman offered. Combine that with alcohol and you earned yourself an agreeable ally.

To be fair, Takasugi preferred his partners sober enough, turning to such tactics only when the occasion demanded it. On the contrary, when it came down to him personally, well, he found no reason to be visiting such places all by himself. He spared no time to play around with ignorant little girls, though somehow, he had now managed to surround himself with a dozen of them.

Tall, short, blonde, brunette, lean and curvy; every type of girl with conventional beauty had gathered up around him, pulling him towards an empty booth. They were so eager to tend to his whims, oblivious to the fact that he was feeling rather uncomfortable with their touch-y and intrusive behavior. They had completely misread his intentions, but then again, who visits hostess bars without indulging?

In an attempt to make him feel more comfortable, a girl grabbed onto the strings of his hat, his hand removing hers in time. It wasn’t as if he could afford to be spotted and arrested here, of all places.

“Master, what will you have?” One of the girls cooed in his ear.

“You are so good looking, won’t you have a drink with us?” The second girl chimed in after his lack of a response.

“What about some Dom Peri? Would that be to your tastes?” Another one followed.

That’s right. If he stood there without even ordering, he’d attract even more attention to himself. Sighing, Takasugi fished the crumbled up paper from inside his pocket, sliding it across the table.

“Oh, you have one of those? Let me show you how our reward system works!” The first girl, a blonde with a dark blue kimono suggested, scooting closer to him.

“Every time you visit our bar, you get a stamp, slowly unlocking milestones with certain rewards. The first one is a free drink of your choice, and then when you reach this one.” She paused, pointing at the middle of the paper. “You get the chance to play Uno with one of our girls, how exciting!”

Is that how hostess bars operate?

“The final reward is a free bottle of our finest Dom Peri, one that isn’t even watered down!”

Takasugi crooked an eyebrow, unable to tell whether this was some sort of deliberate joke or if this was an actual reward system they had set up. Uno nights and watered down bottles of champagne, was this really what Edo had turned into?

“How many visits till that Uno session?”

“Oh, you are interested?” Not in particular. “It’s five visits and you can choose any of the girls to play with. Will you choose me?” The same girl asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

Any girl, huh…

Though he’d been seated for at least five minutes, none of the girls around him, nor the ones that served the customers in the other booths bore any resemblance to you. Could he be mistaken?

The blonde kept pestering him, her one arm locked around his elbow, with her other hand rubbing at his shoulder. His patience was wearing thin, but causing a scene wouldn’t fix anything. After all, she was merely doing her job.

“Sake.” Takasugi said, hoping that her departure could at least get him some room for breathing.

Surely enough, the girl jumped on her feet, the other two maintaining their distance all the while eyeing him.

All of a sudden, the loud thump of a glass breaking forced his attention to shift to the bar. A man with his arms crossed over his chest was barking at a girl, something about salaries and final mistakes. Repeatedly, she bowed her head up and down, her clasped hands moving in sync with the rest of her body. She was frantic, spelling out one ‘sorry’ after the other. Eventually, the man, presumably the owner of this place, raised his hand to dismiss her, stepping away from the scene.

The girl stood in place, only turning around after she was left alone. The second Takasugi got a proper look at her face, the same feeling he’d felt earlier reappeared; the same sensation of having the air sucked out of his lungs was back. It was her, the girl from before, that girl… you.

“What a klutz.” The brunette next to him exclaimed with a scoff.

“I know, right? When will she finally learn? Boss is too lenient with her.” The second brunette sighed.

“I guess what they say is right, the pretty ones sure have it easy.”

“What’s with that girl?” Takasugi inquired.

“What? Her? She came about 5 years ago I think.” The blonde from earlier had returned, setting a tray of glasses and alcohol on top of the table. “She is such a weirdo, other than her appearance there’s not much going on with her. Just because she has a few regulars, she thinks she is someone, but truth is, she’s just a lost cause. A nobody.”

She poured a drink for Takasugi, then handed the rest of the glasses to the other girls. Bringing it to her lips, she downed it in one go.

“You know, there is something seriously wrong with her.”

Takasugi tilted his head towards the brunette to his left. It looked like both these girls held some sort of grudge against their coworker and while hearing them badmouth you irked him, he wished to find out why.

“When she first came here, she wouldn’t even give us her name. Claimed she had no recollection of that nor her past, but if you ask me, she is hiding something. Or else she wouldn’t put up with all the names people give her.”

“Aho-chan, Hidoi-chan, Kagome-chan, that’s how she goes by. What a pitiful creature.” The third girl commented, tipping her glass between her fingers.

No name and no background. That certainly was strange, though it would suffice as an explanation. Whatever happened to you back then, the only way for you to be unable to recognize him or seek him out in the first place, would be for your memory to get wiped out. An unlike scenario, but it was what it was.

“Now girls, let’s not bore our customer with such tedious talk. Master, whatever it is that you want, this girl won’t be able to deliver. Me on the other side…” The blonde mewled into his ear, one finger running along the hem of his yukata.

“How much?” Takasugi asked with a forced smile.

“Hmm?”

“How much should I give for you to keep your hands off ?”

The girl was stunned, her confident act dropping at once. Hesitantly, she retrieved her hand, returning to her own seat without any protest.

“That’s so mean, master.” She frowned, an awkward chuckle following her words.

Takasugi reached a hand inside his clothes, dropping a handful of bills on the table. He peered at the expressions of the girls; half disturbed, half excited at the sight of the money. They were all doing their best to keep their distance from him, scared of receiving the same treatment their friend did. Good leeches.

“This should be more than enough to cover your entire shifts. Leave.” Takasugi dismissed them.

Obeying, the three of them reached out to the table, each gathering their share before walking away.

“Not you.” He nodded at the blonde with his glass.

“Oh? Have you changed your mind, mas-”

“Add four more stamps to this, if you wish for a bonus.” He said, pushing the flier in her direction.

“But-

“This isn’t a request.” He cut her off, deliberately glancing down at the sword around his waist.

The girl slid a hand inside her pouch, pulling a red stamp out. Fortunately, she was smart enough to understand that he wasn't in the mood for playing around.

A game of uno wasn’t much of a reward, but adding you to the equation, he was left with no choice. If his theory was correct, then by his next visit, all the pieces to the puzzle would come together, or so he hoped.

“Please come again.” She muttered with next to zero enthusiasm, leaving his sight along with her bonus.

At last, silence.

For the rest of the night, Takasugi remained in the booth all by himself. A couple of girls attempted to approach him, though his previous companions managed to spread the word in time. ‘He is dangerous, he is crazy, he is… boring.’ He didn’t need to hear them to imagine the kind of things they were whispering to each other’s ears. After all, he was no stranger to such unimaginative discrimination.

A long while passed, and soon the only ones in the bar were him and a couple of merchants in the far back. Despite having consumed far more alcohol than the free drink he had been promised, he was feeling quite sober, his mind focused solely on you.

Following the accident you caused, your boss assigned you to a new post, forcing you to be on the move between the bar and the storage room. Each time you entered with a new crate, your expression seemed wearier than before, your legs on the verge of giving out. Judging from past experiences, lifting weights was never your forte.

Takasugi smiled right before his lips touched the glass. Some things never change.

By the time he finished his final drink, the bar had been completely emptied out, giving him the perfect opportunity to act out. He fixed his hat and clothes, propping his arm onto the hilt of his sword while he sluggishly made his way out of the store. He had no clue where said storage room was, but the probability of it being just past the back alley was pretty high.

It was dark and he couldn’t see much, the distant neon lights being the sole source of light. He could only stumble around, until his foot hit a crate, sending it flying towards a brick wall. The impact was followed by a shriek, one loud enough to obscure every and any sound that came from the bustling city. 

Realizing what happened, Takasugi stepped in, his hands reaching out just in time to capture the falling champagne bottles from your hands.

“Thank you so much!" The voice exclaimed, belonging to none other than you.

If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have tripped in the first place.

Picking up on some of the bottles, he did his best to share the burden equally between the two of you. They were quite heavy, he realized, three of them being enough to weigh him down. There was no way you could manage such a task all by yourself.

On the way to the front door, you kept asking him to let go, assuring him that he’d already done enough, but he was having none of it. He even assisted you with putting them back on the shelves, ignoring your pleas to let go. He wasn't helping you for the sake of helping you; he just couldn't stand the sound of another glass shattering. Or at least, that’s how he justified his actions.

After everything was in place and your duty was fulfilled, Takasugi excused himself, seeing no more reason to stick around. Having a conversation without getting the chance to rationalize this absurdity would not end well.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Your voice made him freeze in his stead.

“You remember?”

“Of course I do!” He turned around, his eye searching for yours in the darkness.

“I’m so sorry for bumping into you earlier and running away like this.” He felt his own heart sinking, the glimmer of hope disappearing as fast as it appeared.

Even if it was dark, your face was perfectly visible to him. Everything appeared to be the same as he remembered, as if not even a day had gone by since he last saw you. Everything but your eyes, that was. You used to look at him with such endearment and affection, such that was enough to thaw his icy exterior without any effort, but now that's gone. You bore the eyes of a stranger looking at another stranger.

“Are you from around here? What’s your name?”

“Shinsuke.”

“Shinsuke huh… that’s such a nice name. Don’t think I’ve met anyone who goes by that before.”

“I… see.” Hearing his name coming out of his lips stirred something within him. He had missed that sound more than he could ever admit.

“What brings you here, Shinsuke-san?”

“I was looking for someone. A woman.” He specified.

“Hm? Have you come here for one of our girls? Who is it?”

“Y/N.” It had been so long since he’d last called your name out, especially to your face. Part of him hoped that hearing it would have the same effect for you as it did for him.

“Y/N… I don’t think there is anyone working for us with such a name. Could it be that she gave you a stage name or nickname?”

He was unsure of what to answer. Such a charade was ridiculous.

“I guess the person I’m looking for doesn’t exist anymore.” Takasugi mumbled, turning his back on you. There was no point in trying. The woman he once loved was gone. It was about time he accepted that.

As he was about to leave, his sleeve getting tugged downwards caught his attention. A pair of delicate fingers were holding onto it, with another pair of pleading orbs staring right into his.

“Some girls do that. They give fake names because the owners don’t allow us to give our real names to clients. I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by that. You said her name was Y/N, right? I’ll try asking around to see what I can find.”

“There’s no need for that.” He attempted to leave, yet your clutching kept him in place.

“I want to help! Compensation for crashing into you and uh… a thank you for your assistance.”

Takasugi placed his hand on top of yours, briefly stuttering at the softness of your knuckles before he pulled your fingers off his sleeve. Your persistence was making things harder for him, another leftover trait of your past self. This wasn’t you, he reminded himself. A person with no memories was not themselves anymore. This wasn’t you, this wasn’t you, this wasn’t—

“Come again soon, Shinsuke-san!”

Even when his steps were taking him away from you, Takasugi realized that sooner than later they’d be bringing him back.

“Uno!” You cheerfully proclaimed, slamming a wild draw four card on top of the pile.

Takasugi shook his head as he scattered his cards across the table, an assortment of green and yellow clashing with the dark cedar. This was the fifth round you’d won in a row and although he didn’t want to admit defeat, perhaps going for so long without playing the game had turned him rusty. He used to beat you with such ease back in the day that he wasn’t prepared to face any sort of resistance. Could it be that he was more preoccupied with figuring out what had happened, or did your amnesia come with a streak of luck?

“Again.” With gritted teeth, Takasugi shuffled and stacked the cards once more. He wasn’t intending to end this on a loss. Besides, the reward didn’t specify how many rounds of Uno he could play.

Dealing seven cards to each of you, he took his time to study your expression. Your eyes darted between your hands, a loose smile hanging upon your lips that he couldn’t decode. Was it possible that you had another draw four? Nah, that couldn’t be it right? Unless you cheated, there was no such way.

Before you started the round, you reached a hand to the sake bottle, pouring the two of you another set of drinks whilst holding onto the cards with the other. Unsurprisingly enough, you ended up spilling more alcohol outside rather than inside the glasses, making a mess out of the table. What a lousy hostess.

As he was about to take a sip, your chuckle forced him to turn around.

“Is this your first time playing, Shinsuke-san? You’re pretty awful at this.” You exclaimed in a gleeful tone, bringing the glass to your lips.

“Should hostesses be looking down on their customers ?” He argued, shifting through the cards in his hand. A wild card and a reverse card, not bad at all.

“Should customers be threatening hostesses with swords?”

Unaware of his action, Takasugi tightened his grip around the glass.

Up to that point, your behavior had been nothing out of the ordinary. Unlike the other girls who kept their distance from his table, you didn’t seem particularly wary of him. Considering your relationship with your coworkers, he had assumed that the rumor hadn’t reached your ears, but apparently he was wrong.

“Don’t worry about it. Kasumi-chan has a tendency of overreacting.” You assured, revealing the first card of the deck; eight red. “Hmm.” You played a two.

“What if she wasn’t?” He teased, dropping a four.

“Well…” You contemplated, carefully browsing through your hand. “You wouldn’t hurt her, would you?”

Green four.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t?"

“You helped me out yesterday. Even if you are a Joui or whatever, unless you had good intentions, you wouldn’t have bothered.”

Takasugi shrugged, dropping a 6.

“Besides…” He looked up at you, finding a slight smile tremble upon your lips. “You must have really wanted to play uno with me, huh?”

So she’d heard the full story. Admittedly, he shouldn’t have acted on such impulse, but then again why did that girl feel entitled to interfere with his personal affairs? Perhaps he should have dropped more than empty threats on her.

Returning his attention to the game, Takasugi tried to keep his cool, yet his grimace gave out how he really felt. With his lips curling into a scowl, he threw more alcohol down his throat, pushing the glass back to your side. This wasn’t the way he pictured this night going.

While he was caught up in his own thoughts, you acted upon your turn, dropping two green cards onto the pile.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He growled, forcefully grabbing you by the wrist the second you played them.

You blinked, looking at him with confusion.

“Skip… card?” Your gaze fell onto the fallen cards below; a green skip and a green seven.

Oh.

In an attempt to save face, Takasugi released his grip, wondering how many more hits his pride could suffer before he snapped. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that your presence was the cause of jumpiness, but that couldn't be the case, right? A mere hostess, even if such was you, wasn't enough to make him nervous.

For the next 5 minutes or so, you kept on throwing cards one after the other in complete silence, the voices of the rest of the crowd filling in the gaps. To focus on winning or to focus on extracting information; Takasugi felt himself waver between the two choices. Whether he admitted it or not, your reappearance had left him in a distressed state that he absolutely detested.

"So are you?" You broke through the quiet, changing the color to yellow with a five.

"Hm?" Takasugi inquired, switching the color back to blue with a wild card.

"A Joui."

"What if I am? Will you report me?" He smirked.

"Should I?" You mused, browsing your hand before pulling a card from the deck, one you ended up not playing.

He shrugged, throwing a blue six. "It doesn’t matter if you do. I don’t intend to switch lanes now."

"Then… What is it that you intend to do?"

"Bring about an end to all this." He nonchalantly admitted, weighing your reaction.

He expected to find at least a glimpse of surprise or a hint of recognition, yet he spotted neither. Not only did he fail to reignite your memory, but it also looked as if you were completely unfazed by what he’d said.

"Sounds ominous." You said, at last.

"What about you?" 

"Am I a Joui?" You pondered as you pulled another card. "I doubt it, though I can’t be too sure." Blue eight.

Takasugi raised an eyebrow, eager to hear the rest of the story. Finally, he’d brought you exactly where he wanted you to be.

"There was an accident many years ago. At least that’s what the people who found me said. In reality, I can’t remember anything. The accident, that place, the people I used to know, the girl I used to be… it’s all blank. Each time I try to recall such details, my head begins to tick like a time bomb." You admitted, going through your cards.

"It’s funny though. I could be someone’s daughter, someone’s friend, or someone’s lover and I wouldn’t even know about it."

There was sorrow in the way you spoke, a faint smile appearing and the disappearing in an instant.  To have all the answers to your questions, Takasugi felt great guilt plaguing him. Your loss had always been one of the many he was responsible for, another regret to add onto the over-increasing burden of his soul. If he'd gotten there faster, if he’d gotten word of the attack before it happened, if, if, if…

He thought there was no way to change the past, but now that he saw the very same past unraveling before his eye, he was uncertain of what he was supposed to do. Perhaps it was better that you didn’t remember him. What one could consider a curse was in reality a blessing in disguise. There was no need for you to remember what was taken from you, what was lost because of him, or even him. Yes, it was better like this.

Reaching for his empty glass, he was quick to pour himself another drink, only to realize that the bottle was just as empty. The irony, he thought to himself, pushing it aside. No matter how much he tried to fill his own void, it would always come down to this, he realized.

"What about your name?" Takasugi sighed, drawing a card. Had he played his reverse card, then the game would have ended right then and there, but he didn’t mean to do that just yet. Not when you have yet to reveal all your cards for him to see.

Once his turn was over, you pulled two cards from the deck, glancing at your hand and then the eight he had previously dropped.

"I don’t remember that either. Everyone here gives me a different name, though most of them are pretty horrible." You said, earning a sympathetic nod from him.

"Oh, I didn’t mean to complain. It’s fine, really, I don’t mind at all. Feel free to call me however you want to."

"How about Y/N?" He suggested in a rather affectionate tone.

"Isn’t that the name of the girl you are looking for?"

"Didn’t you hear me?" He inquired, flicking the remaining two cards between his fingers. "That girl exists no longer."

"Y/N… it does have a nice ring." You beamed with excitement. "But are you sure it’s fine?"

"A pitiful hostess with no memories or name, and a ghost who only exists in memory. You might as well claim that name, she won't be asking back for it."

After all, it’s yours.

"Y/N." You said in a quiet tone. "Y/N," you said more confidently.

"It suits you." Takasugi nodded in acknowledgement, a hint of a smile spreading across his features. At least now he wasn’t the only one holding onto this name.

Peering at his cards one final time, he let the reverse one drop onto the center of the table. There was no point in stalling his victory any further, not when the outcome was already set.

"Uno."

"You win."

"Not bad for a first timer." He smirked.

Admittedly, Takasugi enjoyed his reward much more than he thought he would. Not once in a million years would he consider that he’d get the chance to glance at your smile or hear your voice ever again, let alone play a game of cards at a crappy bar in Kabukicho. It all felt so surreal, but for now, there was no doubt. It was really you.

"Another round?" You asked, shuffling the cards between your fingers.

At that moment, Takasugi stood up, attaching his sword back to his hip. It was time to go. Searching through his yukata, he fished a couple of bills out, sliding them towards your side.

"I’m afraid it’s time for me to make an exit."

"Shinsuke-san." You hesitated, your eyes darting between the table and his own.

"I enjoyed our game."

He nodded, attempting to make his way out when you stopped him again.

"Will you be coming again?"

It was his time to consider things. Perhaps other than your memory, you weren’t all that different, yet the same couldn’t be said about him. He wasn’t the same boy you fell in love with over ten years ago, the one who could afford to fool around and play uno with you as if he had no care in the world. What was left of him could barely make up for the person he used to be; scattered pieces of a vengeful and hollow beast pieced together into who he was today. Could such a man even dream of reconciling with his past?

Takasugi had no answer for that. At least not right now, when your eyes were pleading him to stay. He wanted to see you again, yet he doubted whether he should. For the first time in a while, his selfish desires were standing in his way, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Without saying a word, he waltzed towards the door, wishing that the watchful gaze of the stars would prevent him from repeating any past mistakes, at least for the night. 

The following days found Takasugi spiraling through an endless abyss of question marks, the weight of his choice following him throughout his affairs to the point where he could not concentrate on anything else.

If he told you all about your shared past and who you really were, that smile you greeted him with would be erased in an instant. The pain you’d escaped would cling onto you like it did to him, the clutches of a beast he could never escape. To subject you to such suffering, to bring such a future to you… how could he ever do that?

On the other hand, knowing that to you he was no more than a mere stranger, that all those memories you created together had scattered through the wind, Takasugi felt his heart aching. Even if it was selfish, he couldn’t help himself from showing up before you, day after day, hoping that somehow everything would get solved on its own. That he’d get to hold your hand and kiss your lips once more, just once, even if there was no tomorrow for him.

Perhaps that’s what it meant to love someone to death. As long as you are able to make a step towards them, as long as your hand can reach out, then nothing can stand in the way, not even death.

With his mind set on vengeance and his heart on you, the thin line between right and wrong became even thinner. He was more perplexed than he’d ever been, his inner conflict clouding more than just his thoughts. The sleepless nights he used to spend by himself in the comfort of his room had lessened, finding him among bottles of sake and the very same carefree people he loathed. Even when he couldn’t decide on what to do, he was adamant regarding his visits to Snack Smile, as if all the answers were hidden behind those eyes of yours.

Soon enough, the flier in his hands approached the dreaded tenth mark milestone. With each visit granting him another stamp, Takasugi caught himself counting the days down to his final reward. There was no point in going through all this trouble for a cheap bottle of champagne, he was well aware of that. But, earning himself such a trophy was far from being his actual reason. In reality, the flier served as some sort of countdown, putting a number to the days you had left. After all, he’d finally made up his mind; the day he received his final mark, would be the day he’d say goodbye to you, once and for all.

And so, with your days numbered, there was a certain bitter aftertaste that accompanied both his arrival and his departure, the heavy atmosphere that lingered feeling heavier than before. He’d already lost you once. This should have been easier, but it wasn’t. The end he sought after was sure to leave his tainted soul with yet another scar. Was that what it meant to do the right thing? He wouldn’t know.

By the end of the week, he’d visited your bar five times. A total of eight marks filled the boxes of the flier, making him wish that he hadn’t threatened that girl to speed things up in the first place. He only needed two more stamps to end things properly with you, yet as he marched his way towards his sixth visit, he started to get cold feet.

Standing outside the bar at the crack of dawn, he wondered what the hell he was doing there. For once, there was no way the bar was open at such an early hour. He was too late, or too early, depending on how one looked at it. But even if it wasn’t, what was he supposed to say? Why would the goodbye of a stranger be of any importance to you?

Being in such deep thought, he barely noticed your fatigued form coming out of the bar, with a pair of garbage bags dangling between your hands.

"Shinsuke-san? What are you doing here?" Your sleepy eyes came to life upon seeing his, your expression lighting up your entire face.

"Just passing by." He shrugged, feeling the strain in his throat as he spoke.

You walked past him, disposing of the bags as quickly as possible.

"We are closed for business, but… would you like to come in?" You suggested, pointing at the door with your thumb.

"I’m good." He shook his head.

"You came all this way, it’d be a shame to go without having a drink at the very least."

Unable to come up with another excuse, Takasugi glanced at the sky and then at you. The first morning rays poured over you like a halo, dousing your figure in a warm light. Even when your eyes were plagued with dark circles, you appeared more beautiful than ever.

"I won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t come in, I’m reporting you." A chuckle broke through your threat, your head tilting to the side. "Just one drink. It’s on me, okay?"

How could he possibly say no when you put it like that? The moment Takasugi sighed, you both knew what his answer was. So much for his unyielding resolve.

Inside the bar, empty chairs were flipped on top of empty tables, the faint smell of alcohol and smoke having yet to dissipate. He followed you to an empty booth, setting his sword to the side before taking a seat. You told him to wait, returning minutes later with your drinks. If sake wasn’t his preferred choice, he would have thought that you were a cheapskate who couldn’t afford anything else. At least you didn’t seem to be one of those pushy Dom Peri girls.

"As expected, sake tastes best with good company." You exclaimed, drinking your first shot.

He smiled, following suit.

"I bet you have lots of good company to drink with."

"No one as interesting as an Uno loving samurai."

"Or a clumsy hostess with no recollection of the past." A chuckle followed his comment, the sound of your laughter echoing through the empty space.

"Y/N. What made you choose this path for yourself?"

"Hmm…" You pondered out loud, pouring the two of you some more alcohol. "Just like you said, I’m clumsy and have no recollection of my past. What could someone like me do to survive? Serving drinks and chatting with people is something anyone can do, me included."

"Do you like it here?"

You took your time before answering, glancing at him, your glass, the bottle, the table, the entrance, and then again from the top. Whatever answer you were planning on giving, it didn’t matter. After all, your reaction said enough.

"It’s okay. The pay isn’t bad and the girls are nice to me. Our boss is quite forgiving of my mistakes too, I manage just fine."

No, you don’t. If that was the case, you wouldn’t be forced to clean up their mess by yourself, all alone and exhausted.

Rather than argue back, Takasugi pressed his glass tight against his lips. He’d hoped that at least he’d leave you to a better fate than the one that awaited you with him.

Some time passed with the two of you drinking through the contents of the bottle together in silence, neither being too sure on how to proceed.

"There’s something I haven’t told you."

He raised an eyebrow, letting go of his glass for a moment.

"I asked around for the girl, the real Y/N."

Takasugi inhaled deeply before exhaling, his fingers clenching into a fist against the hard wood.

"There is no real or fake Y/N for you to find. What remains is only you. You are Y/N."

"But-"

He dropped his hand onto the table, the thump cutting through your words.

More silence.

"What was she like?" You had no intention of giving up. Unless he gave you some answers, you would keep on asking him.

Sighing, he reached for the bottle himself, giving you both a refill.

"A nuisance."

"A nuisance?" You asked, a hearty laugh evading your lips.

What was so funny about it?

"No one starts with a person’s negative traits unless it’s someone they care deeply for. You must’ve really loved Y/N, Shinsuke-san."

He looked up at you, at the eyes he so adoringly used to look at. Time may have erased your memory, yet it never managed to extinguish the love he held for you. For a second, he wished that you could share that sentiment, that his stare could somehow pour some of that emotion back into you. He didn’t want to be alone in this, not anymore.

"I’m sorry that I couldn’t find her for you." You sincerely said. "I was hoping you’d be leaving here with a smile."

Takasugi pulled his gaze away from yours, toying with the empty glass between his fingers. It looked like that goodbye had come up sooner than he’d anticipated.

"Then drink with me today. Until my own memory gets hazy, until I manage to forget, drink with me. Ignorance comes with bliss."

Slowly, you nodded at him with hesitation. If you could peer into his thoughts, you’d be able to see that such a thing could never happen. Even if all was lost, he could never forget nor forsake you. No amount of alcohol was capable of bringing him such deliverance. As long as he lived, he’d hold onto these memories like a martyr, making sure that there was at least one of you that remembered. After all, he was prepared to carry such a heavy cross the second he walked into that bar.

Just like Takasugi suggested, the two of you finished the first bottle of sake together, followed by another and then another. Your hand began to tremble halfway through, liquor spilling onto the table and the glasses. He did his best to finish his drinks before you finished yours, making sure that he was the one to drink the majority of the content. Drunk and exhausted was not an ideal state for you to be in.

Still, he forgot to take into consideration the fact that you’d been working all night long, most likely having finished many more bottles with other clients. It didn’t take long for you to collapse. The sun had fully come out now, bathing your skin in a lovely and vibrant light as you rested on top of the table. Your palms had turned into a makeshift pillow, with your cheek finding comfort within. The sound of your breathing befell the room like a quiet lullaby, your chest moving up and down in sync with it.

Takasugi kept drinking by himself, catching you squinting and quietly grunting from time to time. You were mumbling something incoherent that he failed to pick up on, yet once he brought his hand before your eyes, you went quiet. A smile spread across your lips, with a delighted sigh following right after. Takasugi muffled a giggle, propping his elbow onto the table so that he could keep on shielding you from the light with his body.

Unable to help it, he traced the outline of your cheek with the back of his finger, tugging a couple of loose strands behind your ear. You looked so peaceful, he thought as he dragged his index across your features. The last time he’d looked at you like this, he was the one to shut your eyes, unaware of the fact that you’d been fighting your way back to him.

He brought his finger down to your nose and then to your lips, ghosting over them in a light motion. You talked back at him so many times with this mouth of yours, bringing him headache more times than he could count.

Where’s that sharp tongue of yours now, he pondered, dragging your bottom lip downwards. Such a lousy hostess that can’t even handle her liquor, falling asleep before a man whom she barely even knows. What a pathetic sight.

So very... pathetic.

Before he even knew it, his lips met with yours, a feeling of utter bliss taking over him at last. Right or wrong, who was he to differentiate the two. In that final moment with you, nothing else mattered. He selfishly claimed this one final memory for himself, hoping it'd be enough to last him a lifetime.

I won’t take my chances with you anymore. This time… be happy. Be happy and never look back, not at your past and certainly not at me. If we ever meet again… No. Even if we meet again in this or our next life, walk past me as if we were strangers. Goodbye, Y/N.

And just like that, his ghost hunt came to an end.

By the time Takasugi reached the docks, the streets of Edo were bustling with the sounds of people. Some going to work, others returning, and then those who simply strolled around. Even more so than before, he felt like a fish out of water, unable to truly fit within the crowd. It was as if he was returning from a great battle, one that he'd inevitably lost.

Silently, he slipped back inside his ship, a couple of members from his faction bidding him 'good morning'. He nodded them off, unwilling to engage in any small talk. Such trivialities seemed rather pointless at the moment.

Just before he returned to his room, Takasugi made a stop by one of the common rooms, finding Matako and Takechi conversing, or rather arguing with one another as per usual. The two went quiet at his entrance, letting him say what he had to say without any disturbances.

Once that was out of the way, he was finally able to rest. Or at least that was his plan. He removed his bandages, neatly stacking them upon his nightstand. Bringing his palm above his destroyed eye, he traced his skin all the way to his lips, finding himself terribly missing your warmth. With his wish granted, he felt no better than he did before. If anything, water had managed to seep through the cracks of his void, threatening to drown him along with what was left of him.

Hoping for a moment of repose, Takasugi leaned back against the covers of his futon, yet such moment never came. Perhaps the daylight was too strong or his thought were simply too loud. Either way, he couldn't tell.

Giving up on that plan of his, he got up, the shamisen in the corner of the room catching his eye. Maybe if he could at least counter these thoughts with something louder, he could find some solace.

Time went by swiftly, with the light burning brighter and then fading into the backdrop. A dejected melody accompanied his equally dejected musings, with his fingers aimlessly holding onto the bachi. What his words could not speak, his music transmitted perfectly. A requiem of despair.

"Shinsuke, what's all this about?" The voice of a certain green haired samurai cut through his tune, followed by the thump of the door. "Matako told me we are leaving tomorrow, is that true?”

“What if it is.” Takasugi responded, refusing to look his way.

“I thought we’d be staying until the end of the month.”

“Something came up.”

“And that is?”

There was nothing for him to say to that. Whether they stayed in Edo or not, it didn't make a difference. He'd finally cut all loose threads, no point hanging around this hell hole of a city.

Bansai moved across the room, his steps taking him to the window where Takasugi was seated. Quietly, he observed him, listening to his song as if he meant to nitpick his intentions by the mere sound of it. He folded his hands over his chest, resting against the opposite side of the frame, with his head lightly moving along to the rhythm.

"Your tempo has changed, I daresay."

Most probably for the worse, Takasugi thought to himself.

“I have a gift for you.”

Holding onto the instrument with his legs, Takasugi reached a hand in his yukata, revealing the purple flyer. Nine marks stained its surface, only one requirement away from the "grand prize". He'd held onto this thing for days, but now he found no use for it. Disposing it while he could, was the only sensible choice.

“I’m not sure I’m following, Shinsuke.” Bansai mumbled, flipping the pamphlet between his fingers.

“There's no need to. Just accept the gift.” Takasugi said, his attention shifting back to the shamisen.

“This is very unlike you, I daresay.“

With the music picking up once again, Bansai moved outside of the room, taking his so called gift with him.

There was no telling how much time had passed, the never-ending melody stubbornly persisting. Takasugi felt numb, each of his thoughts melting away underneath his fingertips. By now, he should have met with you. Would you be disappointed that Bansai showed up instead of him? That was unlikely. Who'd be distressed over a stranger?

That's right. It didn't matter anymore. He'd given up on you, he had no right contemplating over such things. It was over. It really was.

“You’re back early.” His voice felt raspier after going for so long without speaking a word.

“I met with the girl.” Bansai admitted, stepping into the room. His tone was near suggestive, hinting that this was far from all he had to say.

Curious to see what comes next, Takasugi let go of the shamisen, an eerie quietness befalling the room as he set it to the side.

“… And?”

“And I must ask, who is that girl, Shinsuke?”

“A good for nothing hostess.” Takasugi sneered.

Bansai sighed, doubting that Takasugi was giving him the full story. More often than not, he was able to read into his thoughts with greater ease than most. Even if he didn't poke his nose into his business, he had no intention to let this one slide, and for once, Takasugi wasn't too appreciative of his friend's feature.

“That good for nothing hostess said I can’t accept it on your stead. You should know better than to give gifts one can't redeem.” He dropped the flyer onto the floor beside him.

“Is that so?" Takasugi inquired with zero interest, merely glancing at it and then looking away.

“There’s more to the story, I daresay." Bansai continued, his fingers browsing through his teal colored coat. "She asked of me to bring this to you. Said she’ll be waiting for you to return it one day.”

Takasugi glanced over at him, his eye widening upon receiving the item from his hands.

“I believe you recognize this. Then, I’ll leave you to it.” Bansai said before finally making his exit.

There was no way... right? This couldn't be it... right?

At the moment, Takasugi struggled to understand the meaning of it, seemingly lost as he studied the material. His fingers went over the fabric with great care, tracing each and every seam as if they were sacred. This was far from being the only one of it's kind, yet there was no room for doubt; this white headband could only be the very same that once belonged to him, the one he'd traded you all those years back.

"Such a foolish woman." He huffed in a low tone, his lips curving into a smile. Even when he'd given you a chance at happiness, you'd chosen to fall back into your own misery. What kind of fool does that?

Yet, such a foolish woman had managed to fool him. He wasn't any better, he realized to his dismay, guilty over the sudden rush of relief. Even by a little, the weight he'd been so adamant to carry by himself had been lifted, with or without his consent. He really thought that he could take it, but there you were again, stirring up trouble from miles apart. To think that he'd fallen for such a nuisance.

Lacing his fingers around the headband, Takasugi leaned back against the window. A sigh evaded his lips once he finally closed his eye.

Perhaps the destruction of the world was always meant to be celebrated with a cheap bottle of champagne.

A/N: Originally I planned to end it at this, but then I realized that the ending might be a bit unclear, so I'll add myself a mini QnA to explain certain things!

Q1: Did she know who he was all along?

A1: Nope. In reality she didn't reveal the whole truth to him. She had memories of a man and their times together, but she couldn't remember who that was or even his name. After she met Takasugi again, all those missing pieces came together and by the last time he visited her, she knew who he was.

Q2: If she still loves him, then why not tell him?

A2: Though Takasugi hasn't changed that much, she could tell that he had something going on that was bigger than their little love story. She knows him better than most and so she wouldn't want to stand in the way of his path.

Q3: Then why reveal it at the end?

A3: Takasugi may have been strong enough to stay true to his decision of ending things, but she wasn't. When he kissed her, she was able to feel it and when she realized that this was goodbye, she couldn't accept that this was their end. Even if it's harder for them to pine over one another, she hoped that by revealing her cards to him and giving him a place to return to, then one day he will.

Q4: So will he return?

A4: It might take some time, but he definitely will. After all, he has a headband to return and a drink to share.

Q5: Dom Peri is very expensive, why did you call it cheap?

A5: In comparison to his precious memories of her, Dom Peri feels very cheap to Takasugi.

[s2pdoktopus]

From @tamanone's fic "saudade" because I have this sketched out for a while now and I wanted to draw a sad Tatsuma.

[goldenlaquer]

How about s/o has been trying to convince him to stop his plans but they took a hit for Takasugi! The injury is severe but it's not fatal! As much as they disagree with him, they still love him dearly. He had trouble staying calm because he already lost his teacher so he doesn't want to lose them too! After they recovered, he promised to abort his plans & be with them! Sorry for making it cliche though XD What do you think about it?

I think that this hits the spot— thank you for responding to the call for angst prompt!

Takasugi Shinsuke Headcanons:

The truth that Takasugi knows: He has no one by his side. There is nothing left to love, Shouyou is gone. Gintoki killed him. Shouyou is gone, and so, the world is ending. The world is ending, and he will make sure of it. Nothing matters. Katsura is gone. Sakamoto is gone. And so is Gintoki. They are gone, they left him. He is alone. There is no one by his side. He is by no one's side. Shouyou's gone. There is nothing left to love, there is no one to love. Not even you. Especially not you.

And so, the world must end.

You don't understand him, this, that burning need in him, the terrible thirst; no matter how many times he had wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed, you just don't understand. You don't understand that he is not by your side. You share his food, his drink, his conversation, his bed. You think you share his heart, but when in reality, that is impossible. You won't understand, you refuse to believe, that you are not by his side, that you won’t eventually leave him. But neither is Bansai. Nor Matako. Nor Henpeita. None of them are actually by his side because he won't let them. He won't let you be there either.

You, who can still smile with your soul. You, who can still look straight at him in the right eye, and then the left socket, and still unwittingly call it beautiful, him beautiful, and mean it. You, who can still see the world as whole, all the good, and the bad— and still, still see it worth something salvaging. You, who has peered into his empty chest, and found something that isn't there— you looked at nothing and still, still found it worth saving.

You don't understand.

You are not stupid, but you are foolish. Foolish enough to follow a man who can't love you back. Foolish to try and convince him that he isn't alone. Foolish to fall in front of Gintoki's sword, arms protectively spread wide, like some badly written hero. Like Shouyou.

But this time, Gintoki is not killing anybody. He reels back with a heavy curse, jerking his sword, but red still erupts. Red blooms on the ground and on your clothes, on his. Red is the color of the world ending. And the world is ending, and he was the reason for it.

Fool, fool, fool.

"Fool," he hisses, hand trembling so bad he can't control it from grasping your soft cheek. Limp in his arms, you're crying. The bitter tears wetting his digging thumb. The way you're looking at him, the terrible crimson soaking your chest, the way you're saying I'm sorry, I'm okay, I'm okay— he realizes that the tears aren't coming from you. It's him.

Fool, fool, fool.

What the truth actually is: Shouyou is gone. Gintoki killed him. Katsura is gone. Sakamoto is gone. And so is Gintoki. They are gone, but they never left him. Shouyou is dead. But he never left him either. He is not alone. He was never alone. Everyone that matters is all there, right by his side. Everything matters. It always did, too much. Everyone is by his side, and he will be besides theirs. He loves them. And you, especially you.

(He tells you so. In that hospital bed. His forehead pressed against yours, his wrappings in the dust bin. All of him for all of you. A promise to last lifetimes.)

The world is not ending, it moves on. And so will he.

Takasugi is one foolish dude, Mr. Know-It-All.

[rampagingnoble]

the symbolic implication of the shouka sonjuku text book/notebook serving as a "shield" for both katsura and takasugi in the benizakura arc

seems that even in "death" (lol), shouyou never ceased protecting his precious kids (even from each other)

[rosencrantzsguildenstern]

woe. teensugi be upon you. (id in alt)

+ kidsugi babysitting and extra

[averagelonelypotato]

listen gintoki is def the type to not talk, complain or even treat his wounds he sustained after fighting in battle after shouyou died. With the thick silence and walls Takasugi and Katsura put up against him, what right would he have to ask for help when he destroyed their only reason for fighting in this damned war? So what if Gintoki gets a fatal wound in the last battle they all fought together? He’ll hide it and endure it, when they all build graves for the fallen and themselves with their swords, no words were spoken. Katsura and Takasugi each walked away in a different direction while gintoki stayed in the same spot with red rapidly staining his white haori a new colour. Katsura and Takasugi walked away without looking back that day, unbeknownst to them, they were walking away from gintoki’s final resting place  

[nonethelessnosense]

Anytime I remember about Gintoki and Takasugi I become inconsolable

Update (?) : LMAO THEY LABELED IT AS MATURE HUH??!?!?!!!

[fuckhellame]

I think it just makes sense to write a Bantaka fic inspired by songs, as music serves as the backbone of Bansai’s character design and his feelings towards Shinsuke. I did not find the right inspiration, though, until I stumbled back on one of my favorite Chinese dramas - The legend of Ruyi and immediately got attached to the opening song.

The work is based on a song named Incense Fleeting (沉香流年), performed by Lei Jia (雷佳). It means the fleetingness of love and reflects a story of a marriage that goes stale, a love that fades away, and one you once loved to the moon and back becomes the one you cannot bear to look at.

This is my first multichapter for Bantaka, and this is my first time writing them as a toxic relationship. Enjoy (or not).

[soo-won]

gintama was healing to me because its nature has a comedy show that breaks the 4th wall all the time is that it helps you take a distance. like don't get me wrong gintama can be deep and serious but it's also so very unserious in a way that doesn't make the serious parts less impactful it's just yeah listen life is stupid and absurd like that and people are full of wounds but overall we all act very silly. it humbles itself all the time in a way that i found very pleasing...When I love something I tend to dig deeper and deeper and it can be hard for me to take a distance the more i'm emotionally invested. And then you have gintama that constantly switch between 20 episodes of the characters doing shits together and serious arcs with character deaths and brain rewiring level of drama and angst. And even in these serious arcs there is an effective mix of comedy and seriousness that makes it undoubtly gintama (I think that's why I have issues with farewell shinsengumi tbh it takes itself too seriously to my taste...among other things but that's another discussion).

When Gintoki reveals his wooden sword has nothing special at all and that he threw away the notebook of his dead teacher bc he spilled ramen on it, and when the characters make fun of takasugi's emo image behind his back, and when we finally get a joui4 reunion and you expect tragic reminiscences of a lost war and camaraderie but it's actually so stupid you even wonder if it's real. The war was definitely a traumatizing experience and we see that as well, but what matters most is what the characters choose to remember, and how they live day by day in the present.

And I still love trying to fill the blanks and thinking about the characters' past and what made them who they are today but it's all very personal in the end. i will make my assumptions based on vibes and what i choose to take seriously or not. it's like the cat of shrödinger(sorry) but like 'is gintama deep or not' and you never know for sure and it doesnt matter in the end and it's fun. And something Gintama is very serious about is that there is so much love in the comedy and the fun.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hi, hope you're doing well. May I please request some angst headcanons for takasugi where he likes the reader but is too shy and embarrassed to admit it? Gintoki, katsura and everyone else can see that takasugi and reader has a thing for each other and teases him about it but takasugi gets super embarrassed and says smth like "who would even like someone like her?" . the reader hears him saying that and feels really bad and takasugi feels really bad and confesses? sorry if this is too confusing. have a great day!

Set just before the war

-Your mutual crush was evident to everyone, but thankfully Gintoki was too lazy to bother you and Katsura too formal to tease you.

-Shinsuke wasn’t as lucky as you. Gintoki teased him relentlessly “your strikes got so weak, too busy thinking of them, lover boy?” wood sword crushed on Gintoki’s head. Katsura coming up with the most absurd plans. Shinsuke thinks that retiring as a monk on a mountain doesn’t sound so bad.

-You interact as much as before, someone has to take care of his wounds, but it doesn’t mean they are painful to watch; you have become Gintoki’s fave cringe show.

-It’s all blushing and stuttering and Shinsuke looking at your lips, you at his green eyes, but nothing ever happens.

-It is during a stressful week that Shinsuke explodes after the umpteenth time Gin teases him.

"Who would even like someone like her?" Silence in the room, only broken by a sigh.

You are around the corner and Shinsuke feels his heart drop and his throat closed.

-You can’t even move, while Shinsuke’s feet are fast and run to you.

“I didn’t mean it, I swear-“

“Takasugi, you don’t have to lie to me, sorry if I bothered you-“

“Don’t!” He holds your arms “say something like that. It’s you never were and never are a bother to me.” He huffs, the air moving some of his purple hair out of his face “I actually like you” he looks at you straight in the eyes “it’s only those dumbass fault if I lied.”

“Real”

“True” his childhood friend answered from the other side of the room.

“Please forgive me, and let me take you out.”

-Your heart thrums crazily in your chest, tears fall down but with a whole other meaning.

“I’d gladly go out with you Takasugi.”

A smile graces his beautiful face, a spark in his deep green eyes.

“Call me Shinsuke from now on.”

[yawnzloverz]

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚˚｡⋆.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚｡⋆.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚˚｡⋆.⋆｡⋆☂

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

♡ 🧸ⱽᵃˡ! ˢʰᵉ/ᴴᵉʳ 🧸 ᵖᵃⁿˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ 🧸 ᶠⁱˡⁱᵖⁱⁿᵒ 🧸 ᵉⁿᵍ/ᶠⁱˡᵒ 🧸 ˡⁱᵇʳᵃ 🧸♡

✧I update every Friday (PHT)

ONGOING WORKS!: ☂After the Storm: A Choi Yeonjun filo AU☂

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

DNI if

Racist

Kpop anti

Homophobic

Fatphobic

✧༺More under the cut!༻∞

(What I write, What I don't write, and the artists I write for)

⋇What I write: Fluff, angst, little bit of kissing (I'm not really good at writing smut, maybe there will be slightly nsfw content but it won't be very detailed), WLW Fem! Character x Fem! Reader (I'm bad at writing mlm i'm sorry), x nonbinary

⋇What I DON'T write: I'm not one for dark themes, so I won't be writing gore (slight violence though, mentions of light bullying and some gang fights), r@p3, misogynistic and sexist themes, minor x adult

*I don't do male character x male character ships, I only do wlw and wlm. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not homophobic or anything, I'm just not good at writing mlm, and I'd rather not attempt it instead of showing a poor representation of queer couples. If ever I DO learn, I'll open the requests for it :)

✧༺♥༻∞✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧༺♥༻∞

*I DO NOT write for married, IAR, problematic artists/actors

♡𝙂𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙄 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙧: ♡

TXT, RIIZE, SKZ, ATEEZ, ENHYPEN, NCT, SEVENTEEN, GWSN, KISS OF LIFE

✧ACTORS I WRITE FOR!

♥K-DRAMA!

Song Geon Hee, Byeon Woo Seok, Rowoon, Song Kang, Cha Eunwoo (Lee Dong Min), Ji Chang Wook, Kim Ji Woong (ZB1), Hwang In Hyeop, Lee Dong Wook, Gong Yoo, Lee Soo Hyuk, Han So Hee

♥J-DRAMA!

Michieda Shunsuke, Ryo Yoshizawa, Ryusei Yokohama, Fuju Kamio, Kyoya Honda, Takeru Sato, Yosuke Sugino, Mahiro Takasugi, Kento Nakajima, Sho Hirano, Nijiro Murakami, Kentaro Ito, Kento Kaku, Oji Suzuka, Hiroya Shimizu, Aya Asahina, Ayame Misaki, Ayaka Miyoshi, Minami Hamabe, Kanna Hashimoto, Mio Nakamura, Yurina Hirate, Mio Imada, Nana Seino, Maika Yamamoto

*until my carrd stops being salty this will stay here lmaoo

Also, to those who knew me before I renovated the blog, yes, I stopped posting true beauty and kdrama content 😭 I mean the blog was practically dead, and running a fanpage was harder than I thought, so yeah. I hope you understand. If you are one of those peeps who followed me back then and is still doing now, I appreciate it. Thank you and have a wonderful day, lovelies!

- Val🧸

[lilac-5ky]

Killing Butterflies (Part 8: Hard Truths cut Both Ways)

A/N: It's been so long since I've written this story omg (or anything for that matter). Ngl, I wasn't sure if I should make things go this way or another way or whatever, but I feel like this is closest to what I had envisioned! This chapter is mainly Takasugi-centric and there will be a bonus A/N at the end to explain something. Hope you enjoy and that the route I chose didn't disappoint!

Warnings: Again tons of violence, emotional abuse and a fuckton of angst.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 7

gotta reinforce my shinsuke manga screenshot collection ;-; even from this angle he looks so good tho :3

The first thing to capture your attention upon entering the final room at the end of the corridor, was the sliding paper doors that separated the space into two parts. Closest to the entrance stood a short legged table, decorated by a single quill, and a paper blank of any words, while on the side of the window laid the creased sheets of a futon.

Unlike the rest of the rooms you got to see during your rather prolonged stay in his ship, this one resembled home the most. From the wooden finishes of the few furniture, to the earthy tones of the walls, this room could only belong to someone with great knowledge of Edo’s traditions.

And that was when it finally dawned on you. This was no ordinary room. This was his room. The room he lunched and dined in. The room he devised tactics and wrote lengthy letters in. The room he slept and sought refuge in, whenever the weight of this world felt too heavy for him to shoulder.

You wondered how many times he’d gazed outside that window. How many sleepless nights he’d spent contemplating over the past and the future and everything in between. You could easily see him leaning with his back against the frame, foggy smoke pouring out his lips only to clash with the panes. A reminiscent of the time he spent under the shade of your estate’s old cherry tree. Old habits die hard, after all.

Moving onto the other side of the room, your fingers traced a long line along the dusty surface of his desk. Did he use it often, you wondered. You’d never thought of him as the scholarly type, but then again he always spent his free time reading. Did he insist on flipping through the pages of the same rusty green book, or had his interests perhaps shifted?

The hushed shamisen behind the table suggested this much. Your hand ghosted over its neck, imagining a gloomy melody to accompany the monsoon. Even in there, the rain kept haunting you both, foreshadowing what was to come.

“If you are done inspecting-” His words were cut in half by a foul strum. You’d nearly forgotten of his presence, along with the reason behind you being in there. This was no field trip, but your chance at getting a taste of the truth.

Stepping away from the shamisen, you turned around to face him. He was standing by the futon, his yukata barely draped over his torso as he cautiously tugged at the wrappings, tearing them off his body one by one.

You watched his every move with bated breath, silently sharing his distress while he struggled to replace the bloodied bandages. He seemed to be in much greater pain than he previously was, repeatedly grunting in frustration and wincing at his own touch.

But even so, he didn’t dare ask for help. He kept inconveniencing himself over and over again, until the sight of his suffering became too much for you to ignore, and you rushed to his aid.

Takasugi quirked a brow at your gesture, evidently taken by surprise. At this point, keeping appearances up didn’t sound right. Whether you cared enough to admit your feelings for one another, he kissed you and you kissed him back, and that remained the sole fact you were certain of. Helping him out when he was in such pain seemed only reasonable.

The wound itself didn’t look so bad. Other than a minor thread coming loose, his stitches seemed intact for the most part, with only bits of dried up blood lacing his abdomen. You grabbed a clean gauze, cutting it in half and then gently wiping him clean. He was compliant enough to stand still, although, whenever your fingers hovered too close, you could feel his muscles tense up.

“You don’t have to do this.” Takasugi mumbled through gritted teeth.

He was right. You didn’t have to bother. But when you thought of how he’d done the same thing for you a little while ago, you couldn’t help it. Your injury was because of him, and now his injury was because of you. It was only fair you got even.

Ignoring his suggestion, you spotted a spare roll of bandage through the slew of medical supplies. Even when your expertise was next to nothing, this much you could do. Placing a palm upon his waist, you stilled him enough to wrap the first layer of bandage around him, followed by another, and then another, until the entire roll was used.

Come to think of it, this was the first time you saw him bare himself like that. He had no qualms about flaunting his body left and right, but when it came down to you actually touching him, this was a first for you both.

Every curve, every peak. The firmness of his chest and the softness of his stomach. You got to experience all that as you mindlessly trailed your fingers along his toned physique. You’d like to think you were doing him great service by fixing him up, but at the same time, you couldn’t refute that part of you enjoyed this. Just how you’d enjoyed the way his hands took hold of your cheeks, just how you’d enjoyed the way his lips crashed against your own mere moments ago.

“I think you can take it from here.”

You stopped before your thoughts could escalate, first averting your gaze and then you steps away from him. Last thing you wanted was to be ridiculed over your reactions. It was only natural that in such situation you’d fail to keep your cool, especially when it involved Takasugi of all people.

After a while of you refusing to face him and him working on his attire, you heard some light rattling from his direction, though you didn’t have the courage to check on the sound just yet. For now, being away from him was all you needed, and so, you let things be.

“Tea?” He more or less announced, as he presented you with two ceramic cups.

Explains all the commotion.

You hesitated to accept, but seeing as there wasn’t much of a choice, you went along. Rainy days did call for hot beverages, and you couldn’t even remember when was the last time you had something that wasn’t preheated.

The warmth was much appreciated, however, the fishy smell emitted by its murky depths made you reconsider. It wasn’t as if he was trying to poison you, right?

Or that’s what you wanted to believe, up until you took the first sip. Horrible was an understatement. It tasted as if someone had combined the world’s worst ingredients and scorched them till they burnt.

Immediately, you cringed away, battling the urge to spit it back in, while Takasugi huffed in amusement, having downed his own share in one go. How could he offer you such a thing? And more importantly, how could he afford to drink it himself?

“What’s in there?” You spelled in between coughs.

“Not poison, that’s for sure.”

You scowled at his antics and he smirked at your reaction, finding great satisfaction in how your tongue repeatedly clicked against your mouth’s roof, desperately trying to rid itself of the foul bitterness.

“Couldn’t you have offered some Yagult instead…”

“Yakult.” Takasugi corrected without thinking twice.

The two of you shared a look. So much had changed over the years, yet in just one day, you’d both let your guard down almost completely. It was easy to joke around and tease each other as if nothing had ever gone wrong. It was so easy that honestly, it scared you. Taking care of him, sharing a laugh with him, loving him. All those things felt much easier than hating and resenting him.

It was time.

“Sit down.” He instructed, pointing at a floor cushion before moving to his desk.

You did as you were told, bracing yourself for what was probably going to be the hardest conversation of your life.

There were so many questions you meant to ask. Answers that once given, would only cause you more heartache. Still, it had to be done. No matter what he had to say, you would listen and you would accept, and coming out of this room, you’d finally start to heal.

Takasugi returned with a light yellow folder, one you’d certainly seen before, despite being unable to place in your memory. It looked worn out, half torn at the seams, but still intact for you to read the name on the front page; Tsugaru Michihiru

“What’s this?” Your heart tightened within your chest.

“Why don’t you see for yourself.” He suggested, sliding the folder across the tatami.

You took it in your hands, fingers brushing over the dried ink of your father’s name. You remembered now. He used to hold onto this folder, continuously scribbling words in its pages when he thought himself alone.

Once, you’d jokingly taken hold of it, but before you had the chance to do so much as take a peek, he apprehended you. What was it that he said? That it’s improper to look into others’ journals? It must have been something along these lines. However once you started going through the pages, you realized how far from the truth you were.

It appeared to be a ledger of some sorts. A list that went on and on, featuring names you’d never heard or seen before. Some were underlined, others were crossed, while others had completely faded into incomprehensible ink stains. You honestly couldn’t make much of it. Any of it, for that matter.

“Who are these people?”

“These are the names of people I once happened to know. People I once worked with. People who were, but no longer are.” Takasugi said, bitterness waning past his words.

“What happened to them?” You already knew the answer.

Your eyes locked in with his, expecting something that would prove you wrong. For so long you’d lived revering your father and his memory. He was a good man, a great man even, one who worked hard to help peace prevail, one who helped people. He was your father after all. There is no way he could-. There’s absolutely no way he could have ever done something like this.

“Sometimes life isn’t as simple as a story, Y/N. Sometimes, rather than noble samurais and just magistrates, you encounter vicious beasts who seek to destroy everything in their passage, and greedy villains who seek to exploit till there is nothing left. Unfortunately, you had to face both in just one life.” He said, grabbing the ledger from your hands and then pointing you at the final page.

A couple of letters were caught in between the endpaper and the cover. It was unclear who the recipient was, but the sender remained the same, his name engulfed by the golden peony seal.

“Tsugaru Michihiru was the one responsible for every one of their deaths. Not the Amanto, not the war. He and the government of puppets that backs the Bakufu up is what killed these men.” Takasugi flipped through the pages again, pointing at a name.

“I remember this one. His folks thanked me for keeping their son safe, only to see his head on display not long after. I heard the old lady was driven mad by the sight and took her life a few days later. Can you imagine it, Y/N? Can you imagine the horror on their faces? The horror of seeing their son’s corpse paraded around as if he were a traitor?”

You winced away from his words, finding the picture he described too horrid for your brain to process.

Was it true that your father was responsible for their deaths? That he could really do such a vile thing as order these war heroes be executed for no reason at all? You wanted to deny his claims, to argue against such fabrications. It’s easier to dispute the claims of a liar and a murderer, but if everything Takasugi presented was the case, you wouldn’t know who to trust anymore.

“Are you still insistent on hearing my truth?”

And slowly, you nodded.

Sandals clicking against hardwood. One step following the other into the hollow corridor, steps defined by both certainty and impatience. No matter how many years had gone by, for Takasugi, the memory of that day remained rather intact, vivid as if it were yesterday. With the fingers of his left hand clenched tight around a small red-lidded bottle, and his right fist ghosting over the doorknob, he contemplated whether to enter the room, or not.

It was a quarter past twelve; precisely six hours since you parted.

All night long, his persistence had kept him from getting a wink of sleep, as he merely settled for the comfort your body offered his. He wanted to savor that moment. To imprint each color of the sky as it crossed over your features, so that he never forgets. So that it lasts him a lifetime.

One night only, and that was it.

The end of your regrettably short love story came with his carrying you into your chambers. Carefully, he replaced his yukata with your duvet’s cover, making sure no limb was left to dangle. You were so docile while sleeping. Nothing like the typhoon of a girl that swept everything in her wake.

But even in your sleep, you didn’t stop reaching out to him. Your hands kept tagging at his sleeves and fingers, begging for him to stay, and honestly, he would. He wanted to. There was nowhere else he’d rather be, than by your side. No other sight he’d rather behold, than the one before his eye.

When he thought of how the first thing you’d do upon waking up would be to search for him, he wished to be found next to you. To take in each and every one of your confused, yet cute expressions once you’d realize he’d been there all along.

Would you hide yourself from him? Jumble your words and turn bright red? Or would you be shameless enough to scoot closer and curl in his arms? Both sounded equal parts endearing, and while he couldn’t decide on your reaction, he was certain of his own.

He wanted you. He wanted to kiss you, touch you, have you, worship you, defile you. He wanted you to call out his name in between heavy breathings and light whisperings. He wanted your clothes to carry the scent of him every morning, only for it to be rewritten every night. He wanted you to be his in each and every way a man could possibly hope to possess a woman.

One night with you was all it took to incite his greed. To make him wish he could have another, and then another, until he’d spent a thousand nights holding onto you. But even then, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. Even then, he’d keep on asking for one more, until his every night was shared with you; filled by you.

A sudden pang of remorse in his chest forced him still. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He’d come to terms with the idea of letting you go. He was confident that when he dropped you off this morning, he’d made it to the finishing line, yet somehow, his feet had dragged him back to your door-only this time, with a token of his affection in hand.

He could argue that he was simply honoring a promise; that you’d earned it. Perhaps that was the sole lie he wouldn’t feel guilty of.

“Takasugi-dono?” A somewhat familiar voice made the smile drop from his lips.

The old spinster who served as your attendant stood behind him, her sharp hawk-like eyes boring in his own. This wasn’t the first time, he noted. Even when the two had exchanged no more than a few words, he’d always found her staring at him with nothing but contempt.

Contempt, as if he were a disappointment. Contempt, as if she disapproved of his very existence. Contempt, which felt oddly familiar, and that was when he realized. Her eyes were the same as his father’s.

“Are you here to see the young miss?”

His glance traveled between his fist and the door. What else could he be standing here for?

“What if I am?” He asked in a defiant tone.

“In that case, I must inform you that Lady Y/N is still in deep slumber. Courtesy of your late night get-together.” She was quick to add.

“Is she?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

It wasn’t surprising that the alcohol did a number on you. Someone as inexperienced downing about half a bottle of sake shouldn’t hope to get away with no consequences. Besides, spending an entire day asleep beats having to with the excruciating headache of your first inebriation.

Forget acting all coy or shameless. You’d most definitely throw a fit if you woke up in the same bed, accusing him for your faults as if they were his own; as if he got you drunk on purpose. That seemed more in line with your character.

Without being too aware of it, Takasugi found himself smirking at the image, agitating the woman even more. To think that someone his age,- someone she couldn’t even discipline-, dared treat her with such impertinence, had Harumi throwing one furious huff after the other.

“I know you are but a mere guest. However, this house has a certain order; certain rules that ought to be followed by everyone, guests included.” Her semi stunned expression persisted even as she recited the clan’s doctrine.

He was beginning to regret his visit. Decorum and protocols were of little interest to him, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Seeing as there was nothing left to be said, he was about to get going, when Harumi stood in his way. For a woman who detested him, she appeared awfully desperate to keep this joke of a conversation flowing.

“Takasugi-dono, pardon my intrusion for I must ask.” She initiated, awkwardly clicking the heels of her shoes together. “What are your intentions?”

“My intentions?” He repeated. Surely that old hag hadn’t caught up to him, right?

“What are your intentions regarding young miss? How far has the relationship between you two progressed?”

So that’s what it’s all about.

“Are you asking me whether I’ve yet to deflower her?” He sneered, earning himself another, more infuriated call out of his name.

Making others uncomfortable for the sake of dodging such difficult topics was second nature to him. A haughty suggestion here, a vexing comment there, and no man who valued his sanity enough would insist on receiving answers. Still, it didn’t seem as if that’d be the case here. If anything, the resolve in Harumi’s eyes burned brighter than before, at last, earning a fraction of his attention.

“Lady Y/N isn’t someone you can fool around with. She might be our clan’s treasured heir, but she remains a young girl. An impressionable one, at that.” Harumi clasped her hands against her stomach.

“You’ve certainly been in her company long enough to realize how she differs from girls her age. Notably, girls her status. She possesses a certain childlike quality that doesn’t befit the harsh reality of society. Such… innocence is most endearing, but the naivety that comes with it is quite alarming.

“Young miss was deprived of a normal childhood. For the longest time, she’s remained sheltered by these four walls, as if she were a songbird entrapped within a cage. One that’s been taught when and how to sing, as well as when and how to keep quiet, if needed.

“Perhaps, my inquisition seems out of the ordinary, if not uncalled for. But the reason behind my words is of grave importance, I assure you. After a lifetime of serving young miss, it troubles me to admit that my sermon and admonition resonate with her no longer. Ever since she met you, she’s been chirping new tunes, and for the first time, she’s dared express her will to fly.

“Takasugi-dono, I’d much rather not interfere with my employer’s personal affairs. As the clan’s most senior retainer, it is my duty to see Lord Tsugaru’s plans through. However, as Lady Y/N’s most trusted companion, I solemnly wish for her happiness.

“You see, young miss is quite fond of you. She speaks of you as if you put the stars in the sky, and in spite of her recent defiance, she’s been far livelier than before. I know little of romance myself, but I know when I see true happiness. If your encounter caused such happiness to sprout, then I can only imagine how a potential union would contribute to its growth.

“Do you share that sentiment, Takasugi-dono? Do you cherish young miss the way she cherishes you?”

Cherish you. That was a way to put it. Would someone who cherishes another really mean to hurt them like this? Would they come knocking at their door like the grim reaper and threaten to take all that was theirs? Would they have no qualms about leaving them in shambles? Could someone like that truly claim to cherish another?

Someone like that was incapable of such profound statements, yet his hesitation suggested otherwise. If he was as indifferent as he thought, then why was he standing there? Why was insistent to hear the ramblings of some nosy crone? Why was he not putting an end to this charade?

Maybe cherish was too small of a word to express his adoration.

“Takasugi-dono?”

Her voice caught him off guard. Not because he was lost in his thoughts or anything, but because of how mellow it suddenly became. When she spoke of you, her entire demeanor shifted. All those formalities he abhorred had given way to genuine concern, and in place of that shrewd look, a far gentler expression embellished her features.

He was wrong, he realized. Those weren’t the eyes of an imposing father anymore, but those of a considerate mother.

“Interesting. Very interesting.” A strained chuckle was caught in his throat. “A formalist retainer who’s willing to go against the very rules she’s sworn to preserve, and all in the name of feeble sentiment. Truly interesting.”

“There is more than meets the eye, Takasugi-dono. My affiliation to Lady Y/N runs far deeper than any conviction or oath does.”

��Your loyalty is quite admirable, but you haven’t considered what entrusting me with that girl’s precious future entails, have you?” He asked, expecting no answer.

“A domesticated bird in the wild can only be as good as one with its wings plucked out. No matter how fervently it flaps them together, it’s pointless if it can never reach the skies and soar beyond. For someone like her, the ends of her cage mark the ends of her potential, and that’s precisely why there’s no survival for her outside that cage. Only fall.”

For a moment, it looked as if the woman was about to object, and for that, he couldn’t blame her. Not when he didn’t mean a single word he uttered. Hypocrisy was an intolerable flaw, but in this case, hypocrisy was the only way out. For him, and for you.

The steps of a third person filled in the short-lived silence, revealing the figure of a man Takasugi recognized to be one of Tsugaru’s personal guards. His worn out eyes eclipsed past the dusty gray of his hair, depriving them of a clear look at his face.

“Tsugaru-sama has called for you.” He said in an abrupt manner before slightly distancing himself from the two.

Glancing at the door a final time, Takasugi slid the bottle back inside his sleeve. This is for the best. It was never meant to be, after all.

“Stop wasting your breath on me.” He directed to Harumi. “Whether you plan on transferring Y/N from one cage to another, beats me. I don’t intend to stick around long enough to see the end of it, either way.”

And so, his steps echoed more hollow than before.

In the company of the guard, Takasugi began to wonder; had the second floor always been this vacant?

The perfectly polished image of the corridor- porcelain vases on each side, expensive crystal chandeliers that seemed more akin to a western household, and lastly, a handmade carpet of 1200 combs- implied the opposite. Still, he couldn’t quite get that visceral feeling out of his system. Something about this place felt unnatural, if not unnerving.

Door after door, tile after tile, and the only people they encountered came to be their own reflections glaring at them from inside the windows. No one was around. No maid to wipe the non-existent dust off the picture frames, and no guard to assume the duty of a watchdog. Everything was quiet, and while he knew to appreciate a moment of peace, he could tell there lied purpose in the silence.

Suddenly he stopped. The last sliver of sound was gone the moment his feet stayed put, little by little confirming his suspicions. He took one step and then another. And then he skipped two more, just to make sure. There wasn’t a single fall out in the rhythm. No second footing to obscure his.

Each step the guard took was perfectly attuned to his own, matching the pace down to the light grazing of his sandals. A predator’s imperfect attempt of lowering his prey’s defenses, something of which a mere sword-for-hire could never be capable of.

By the time they reached the end of the second hallway, Takasugi became certain of two things; The first being that, however great his disguise, this man hardly was the one he impersonated, and the second being, that today would be his last day in this place.

The time to show his hand had finally come.

“That’d be enough.” He waved dismissively. “I don’t need further escort.”

“Tsugaru-sama was adamant. I am to personally bring you to his office.”

“And so you have. But I suppose your orders don’t conclude there, do they?”

Not until you escort me to Sanju river, that is.

“I’ve heard of your organization’s special services, although I didn’t expect to be on the receiving end so soon.” A smile masked the gentle gesture of his fingers as they swiftly grasped the hilt of his sword. “Oniwaban.”

Without giving him the chance to react, Takasugi forced his blade through the center of the man’s chest, impaling him all the way through. Despair glinted in his eyes, while his lips remained pursed in a straight line, refusing to betray further emotion. He didn’t try to to scream nor fight back. The moment he realized what was coming, he quietly embraced his destiny. That was Oniwabanshu’s not-so-finest for you.

Perhaps taking down the Bakufu wouldn’t be as much of a struggle as he originally thought it’d be.

In one rapid move, Takasugi yanked the sword out, letting the body collapse onto the floor. A thud followed in its stead, putting an end to the pretense of silence along with the man’s life.

He looked at him. He looked at his face, the face that wasn’t even his, and for a second, he was tempted to pull at the invisible strings of his façade, but he held back. Whether he got to peek at his real identity or not, it didn’t matter. He’d quit of counting faces and keeping score a long time ago. This was nothing but a drop of blood in a path carved by carnage.

Shaking his sword clean, Takasugi rose back to his feet. One shinobi was hardly gonna be the end of it, and judging by the ease of which he fell, the second batch was bound to be stronger. He turned around, readying himself for an attack that wouldn’t come just yet. Instead, he was met with the horrified expression of the incident’s sole witness.

Trembling hands covered gaping lips, failing to truly conceal the terror in their owner’s eyes. The whites had blended with the paleness of her complexion in a manner that was unsightly, though not unsightly enough to compete with the spectacle beyond.

“What have you done?”, was what he’d imagine Harumi saying, if words could come out of the meddlesome attendant’s mouth. She was at loss. Even when her right index managed to point at the lifeless body, no such comment or shriek was formed. She simply stood there, utterly frozen in time

But he wasn’t.

“Take Y/N and get the hell out of here.”

“Wh-what?”

“There’s no time for explanations. If you don’t want to join him, then do as you’re told.” He coaxed, turning his sword in her direction. “Now!”

To threaten an unarmed woman -one that he very much knew you regarded as family- meant hitting new lows, even for him. But what else was there to do? As unlikely as the possibility of them touching a hair on your head sounded, he couldn’t deny you wouldn’t try anything stupid, and the last thing he needed was to worry about your safety while duking it out with paid assassins.

Whether Harumi saw him as a monster, he couldn’t care less. Right now, he wanted her gone, and you to be gone with her. If scaring her into leaving was all it took, then so be it.

Fortunately, the direness of the situation seemed to have caught up with her. That or, his bluff finally did the trick. Either way, Harumi’s inner conflict had reached a dead-end. She could stay in place and test the sincerity of his words herself, or she could make a run for it and risk far less than she would by challenging him upfront.

What empty threats could not affirm, the corpse sprawling before her feet attested. Only one real option remained for her to choose from, and so, she got moving before Takasugi could change his mind.

Relieved, he allowed himself the privilege of a sigh. He didn’t trust that woman one bit, but should it come down to it, he trusted that she wouldn’t hesitate to put her life on the line for you.

Still, that wasn’t to say he was completely unbothered. The fear with which she looked at him kept haunting him long after she was gone, making him ponder whether that’d be the only look others would spare him from now on. Whether one day, that’d be the only look you’d spare for him, and that alone was enough to weaken the grip on his sword.

How foolish, he mumbled, staring down at his hands. He never really cared about how others perceived him, yet he’d been so used to that unconditional puppy love of yours that the thought of losing it scared him.

The rustling of the leaves grew louder, drawing his attention to the window. A lone reflection stood there, slowly turning its back on him as he pulled himself together. They were coming. He couldn’t tell where from or how many it was, but he knew for a fact this was no time for self-pitying.

Gritted teeth turned into a brazen smile and hesitant fingers locked into decisive fists.

They are here.

Stepping among scattered corpses and broken pieces of ceramic, the hallway’s refined image had long faded into oblivion. Metallic skeletons hung naked from the skies, the invaluable gems that once bejeweled them reduced to stardust that continuously fed into the sea of blood below, one that Takasugi was determined to traverse.

With his sword serving as paddle, he hushed the leftover groans and whimperings of those around him. It was a fierce battle, and a close one too. A single misstep was all it’d take for him to meet his demise, though perhaps it’d be better if he did. At least then, your tears would be for him and not because of him.

But even with that thought in mind, he couldn’t bring himself to die there. He fought valiantly till he was the last one standing, because deep in his heart, he knew he could never give up.

Those who’d fallen in battle would never return. Sensei would never…

He owed it to each and every one of them to keep on going. To show the world the samurai had all but gotten wiped out, though that wasn’t quite right either. His cause wasn’t so noble. In the end, all he wanted was to curse, and thrash, and destroy everything that got in his way, until he’d have no anger left to pound the world with.

Fury was what led him to your father’s office, and fury was what made him push that door wide open. For so long he’d held back, but there was no reason to anymore. Bakufu was about to take its first punch in the guts, and Tsugaru Michihiru would finally pay for his countless crimes.

The man in question was seated in the middle of the tatami. His hands were placed atop his knees, and a tanto knife rested on a low stand in front of him. Dressed in white garments from head to toes, he’d painted quite an image for himself, one that perfectly matched his little seppuku theatrics. Except of his snide grin, that is.

“You’ve made it!” He said in excitement. “Those damn crows insisted there was nothing left of that man, but I’m seeing the living proof with my own two eyes. Takasugi Shinsuke, commander of the Kiheitai and Yoshida Shouyou’s disciple, you’ve exceeded my expectations. Pleasure meeting you, at last.”

“So you knew.” Takasugi smirked. “Guess Tsugaru Michihiru is more than the pawns I just broke.”

“Your words are flattering, but I’m afraid I lack the battle prowess.”

“Is that the reason for the act?” He nodded towards the knife. “Didn’t take you for the type to give up so easily.”

“Give up?” Tsugaru laughed. “Not quite. Considering the role of the kaishakunin was taken, I simply thought I’d assume that of a daimyo myself. Isn’t that how it went down between Hideyoshi and the disgraced Hojo clan?”

“As far as I’m concerned, Hideyoshi merely instigated Hojo’s suicide. I intend to end you with my own two hands.” Takasugi sternly replied.

“Such hateful words! One would think that after months in my care, at least some warm feelings would remain.”

“Don’t deceive yourself into thinking I ever warmed up to you.”

“But you warmed up plenty to my daughter, did you not?”

“How about we cut straight to the chase?” Takasugi spat through gritted teeth. “Nothing you might say will amount to a different result, so why not speed the process?”

“Oh, but there’s plenty to discuss.” He cackled, entertained as ever. “Unlike Sada Sada and the fools behind him, I consider the era of samurai far from over. It’s true that allying ourselves with the Amanto increases our chances of survival, but what’s to say they won’t go pointing their fancy canons at Edo again? Rather than disposing of our dogs, don’t you think we ought to train them harder, and keep them close, should push come to shove?”

Now was Takasugi’s turn to laugh at the outrageousness of his ideals. It was either that, or repeatedly bashing his sword into his skull till he made dog food out of his brains.

“Tsugaru, you—You actually thought that by taming me, you could use me to tear at their throats instead of yours?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “A wild beast can never be tamed. My ambitions aren’t so cheap as to be bought off with money, power, or any of the fragile things you deem important.”

“And this is what makes taming you all the more fascinating!” He countered. “Why do you think I made you tag to all those pointless meetings? Why do you think I let you in on my secrets? Why did I turn a blind eye to you mixing it up with my daughter?

“Before adopting a pet, you test its capabilities. Someone who knows about tactics; someone who uses their wits along with their sword; someone who stays dedicated to their goal no matter the distractions; someone like that, has the potential to become the finest of hounds.

“Tell me, Takasugi. Did she not move you? Did you not falter because of her? Those files you smuggled out my office, they were what you’d been after all along, right? So why is it that even when you had the means to put an end to this, you stuck around? If not for her, why did you only make your move after I made mine?

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because, even when you have no leash around your neck, your heart dictates your every move. Be it an emotion as meaningless as love, or one as powerful as vengeance itself, I want it. This sword, this heart, this spirit of yours. I want it all. Rather than you lending your strength to me, I want to consume it.

“I’ve fed you, I’ve trained you and I’ve tested you, and now it’s time both you and I got our rewards. There’s much bigger fish out there. The Shogun, the Crows, the Heavens themselves. If it’s revenge you’re seeking, then I’ll give you the means to exact it. If it’s a house, a title, a wife, or something to clear your name, I’ll offer it to you.

“Your owner lives no more. There’s no need for you to live like a ghost on his stead. As long as you sit down when I tell you to sit, and bite when I tell you to bite, I’ll make sure you achieve your goals.”

Anyone in their right mind would be tempted by the easy route Tsugaru presented. By sparing one, Takasugi could not only gain direct access to all his targets, but he could also have a real chance at a living.

He could go back to being a samurai, one of far greater prestige than his father ever dreamed for him to become. He could rid himself of the stench a traitor’s name carried, and he could even make you his wife, turning each and every one of those stupid intrusive fantasies into reality.

So much to gain, yet such empty benefits did not faze him in the slightest. If he wanted fame and riches, he wouldn’t have turned his back on his family. If he wanted a clean slate, he wouldn’t have taken this road. And if he wanted redemption, then he wouldn’t have left Gintoki and the others to pick their pieces on their own.

Those were his choices. His decisions. His mistakes. And as for you, he’d soon get to name you as another one of his regrets.

“You talk big for a man who’s about to lose everything. But you know, big words rarely translate into equal strength.” Dragging his sword against the wooden floors, Takasugi slowly approached him.

“Whether you’re another Bakufu lapdog, or the one who carries their leashes for them, it doesn’t concern me. Right now, you’re nothing but a useless mutt that’s expired its usage. To think that I would side with you-I knew it.” He paused. “Bakufu really is built upon the corpses of idiots, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure their foundations strengthen by adding one more corpse to the pile.”

“Drop your weapon!” He stuttered. “I said drop it now!”

“And I said, I have no intention to become pet to a lapdog who refuses to get his hands dirty. Where are your orders now, Tsugaru? Who’s left to follow them? Who’s left to fight for you?” He raised his sword, waving it left and then right. “There’s no one left, so quit lamenting.”

For the first time since their conversation began, Tsugaru’s complacency seemed to subdue. With his hands pushing his body backwards and his rare soon backing against the desk’s legs, he resembled more of a lamb before slaughter than a powerful faction’s daimyo.

Pitiful, pathetic and utterly powerless.

“Takasugi!” He hissed. “If you do this, know that she will never forgive you!”

“Perhaps. No, I know that she won’t.” A sorrowful smile clung onto his thoughts. “But that is fine by me. I’m counting on that. I’d much rather play the role of a heartless villain, than have her cry over a worthless father who hid behind his daughter’s name even in his final moments. Keeping this between you and me is the first and last kindness I can spare for that girl.

“So rest assured. I don’t seek the forgiveness of either one of you. What I really want is to destroy every last vermin until this house of cards you call government falls apart. Your death will be the first quake.”

In the end, all the memories he’d made, the dreams and hopes he’d shared with you, didn’t get to sway him any more than the wind swayed a mountain. Inevitably, he’d reached the same conclusion, finding himself in the same spot he was destined to stand with his blade high above his foe’s head.

This was it. The beginning of his ambitions and the ending of your own.

He stared down at Tsugaru who kept pleading for mercy with both hands and eyes however best he could. He was scared and he was angry, though he remained full of wicked pride in spite of his undoing.

A man who’d always had his way with others did not know how to lose. He didn’t know what it felt like. He didn’t possess the slightest idea as to what losing everything really was like. The demons that accompanied you through every night; the hell you were forced to walk through every day; the agony that stayed with you through an entire lifetime. He knew none of those.

And it pained Takasugi that this abomination of a man had to go without learning of any of those things, when he was forced to endure everything himself. It saddened him, and it angered him, and before he knew it, he was aiming that sword at his throat and swinging forward with all his might.

Father!

The sound was meek and frail, but it was enough to make the blood in his veins freeze within an instant.

Father!

The voice grew louder and his determination dimmer.

What kind of sick joke was this? You weren’t supposed to be there. You were supposed to follow Harumi and leave. You were supposed to be safe, you were supposed to escape, but then again, he shouldn’t have put all his eggs in one basket.

It was too late to go back, and for better or worse, that was something Tsugaru became well aware of on his own. In the blink of an eye, the man plunged forth, snatching the knife and then shoving it deep within his guts. A sinister cackle diminished to a low grunt as the slash deepened, the pits of his stomach pouring out his white kimono.

Takasugi took a step back, lowering his sword at once. His eye was glued to the man, watching as he struggled to maintain his posture. This was far from how a typical seppuku ritual goes, though Tsugaru never had any dignity or honor to begin with.

“You should know, a kaishakunin would end your suffering.” Takasugi smirked, attaching his sword back at his hip. “I’m not that honorable.”

“Even if I die at the hands of a scum, I refuse to die by their hands.” Blood spewed out his mouth, drowning his every word in crimson “Bakufu won’t fall. No matter how many snake heads you cut, rest assured that new ones will come to replace them. Bakufu will not fall that easily, it won’t-”

“Maybe not. But my aspirations were never this meager.” Takasugi interrupted. “Between the world and the Bakufu, let’s see what breaks first. Shame you won’t be around to see either.”

Tsugaru kept yapping until his words became muffled whispers behind a closed door. There was no reason for Takasugi to witness his death. Judging by the cut, the man had a little less than a few minutes’ time before succumbing to his wounds.

It was over. It really was, yet oddly, he didn’t have it in him to celebrate one bit. Not when the sound of your voice constantly rung through his ears, and certainly not when you finally entered his field of vision as an awkward bundle of limbs that tried to find their way through the darkened corridor.

You looked so lost and frightened, searching through the bodies while calling out to someone-anyone who might be alive enough to hear. Back in the city you couldn’t even stand to gaze upon those corpses, but this time, you closely examined each face as if you were searching for something.

No, you were definitely searching for something. Someone to be precise, and it broke his heart that you had to be the one to find that “someone”.

To him, Tsugaru was no more than a lowly insect in need to be disposed of, but to you, that man was the one who’d raised you. The man who’d shaped you into who you were today. The man who’d instilled his values in you. The man who meant the world to you.

Without realizing, he’d shifted from thinking about you to thinking about that damn day. Shouyou’s smile. The last words he never got to hear. Gintoki’s tearful expression as he held that sword. Katsura’s faint grunts. His own cries. And again, Shouyou’s smile.

Why did he have to smile? Why did the last thing he got to remember him by had to be that smile? Why did he have to be so compliant as to accept a death that was unjust after they’d fought for so long to free him? Why did he have to swing that blade?

The lines between who was whom and who did what became blurred in his brain. So blurred that he couldn’t follow up on any of his thoughts anymore. He was endlessly trapped in that day, and soon, you’d find yourself trapped in that day too.

Part of him wanted to jump out of the shadows, grab your hand, and take you someplace far away from all the horrors that door concealed, so that day would never come to haunt you. There was no reason for you to suffer as much as he did, but he knew best that certain pain was unavoidable.

You were one step from following in his footsteps, and if you were lucky enough, then at least you’d get to say your goodbyes. That’s more than he got.

Before you had the chance to cross paths, Takasugi hid past a half-torn folded screen, allowing for you to enter the office undisturbed. After what you’d seen, there was no stopping you, though that was exactly what you did. With your hand clenching around the knob, you hesitated as if you already knew what lied ahead, and that only tempted him to intervene.

But he didn’t.

He patiently waited for you to push that door open, and then he waited for you to say something, only to realize he hadn’t braced himself to tolerate the sound of your wailing.

He knew those tears. The desperation and sadness they carried. The feeling of utter incompetence and helplessness that went with watching everything slip from your fingertips. Tears that gradually turned into misty fog and ashen cinder. Tears he’d shed himself not too long ago.

And that was when he made up his mind. He’d had enough of this despicable sound.

“He is right. You should have never trusted me.”

“I wasn’t the one who killed your father, Y/N.” Takasugi said, breaking free of his narration. “His arrogance and greed drove him to his demise, and while his blood does not stain my sword, it stains my hands all the same. I was the trigger, and had it not been for his suicide, I would have taken his life without remorse. That is my truth, the only truth there is to the story.”

You didn’t know what to say. Even when he’d spoken in such great detail, you were none the wiser, and the longer he went on, the more you wished for him to stop.

His every word stomped on your memories, tainting and defiling them one by one till nothing of actual value remained. This monster he described couldn’t be your father, but no matter how much you waited for Takasugi to take it all back, he wouldn’t.

A single lie could never obscure the actuality of a thousand truths, nor would it ever be enough to ease the pain they brought. What your heart refused to acknowledge, your brain knew to be true. The man in the story was the same as the man who raised you, the same man who’d threatened to eliminate Takasugi all those years back, and the same man that ended up eliminating himself in the face of disgrace.

How could he do such a thing? How could either of them do such things? Your father’s death. Takasugi’s betrayal. The sorrow you felt for the one and the hatred you felt for the other. The years you’d spent in desperation over a love that never came to be and the immediate guilt that feasted upon your conscience. How could they subject you to such cruelty?

Many a times since he finished talking, you tried asking him, only to get further sucked in by the vortex of your unpolished emotions. If he wasn’t the one who killed your father, then why did he lie as if he did? Why did he run away like that? Why did he leave you behind?

Because he was the one who led him to it. Because he would have done the job himself if you hadn’t interrupted. Because after it was done and dealt with, he wanted nothing more to do with your kind. Because of you.

It hurt.

It hurt so badly that you yearned to claw the thoughts out your skull. You couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Not without choking on your own tears, that was. Drop after drop, they slid down your cheeks and onto your palms, slowly but surely soaking the cuffs of your kimono.

Suddenly, he got up and walked to your side. He must have caught onto your crying, though he didn’t say a thing. He simply loomed as a shadow over your head, one that attempted to both console you and get you to look up, but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

And then a hand reached out to you, urging to close around your shoulder, but it didn’t. He didn’t. He couldn’t. It was as much painful to you, as it was to him, and when there was nothing either one of you could do to comfort the other, he walked again, this time towards the door.

“You can stay.” He said in a gentle tone. “Rest.”

“Was it real?” Your question was sudden and it took him by surprise.

Eyes that met halfway answered all there was to know, though you weren’t sober enough to interpret the meaning of his gaze.

And so, you rephrased.

“Was any of it real? Were we… real?”

He furrowed his brows and shut his eyes, inhaling sharply and then shaking his head, without quite denying or confirming anything.

“Rest.”

“Has anyone ever told you how heavy you are?” Takasugi complained, his arms numb from carrying your body around.

He didn’t have much of a choice. There was no other way. Lies he sought justification in for unjustifiable actions. In reality, he did have a choice, and there certainly was a better way that didn’t quite involve knocking you unconscious.

He could have stayed out of it. When you didn’t know, when you hadn’t seen him, he could have made a run for it and disappear completely. But if he did, hope would remain in his stead, and he knew all too well how dangerous hope could be.

No, this wouldn’t do. You had to be certain, and wholeheartedly believe that he was the one responsible. Only then you’d survive. Only then you’d move forward.

“Heavier than Tatsuma and that silver haired idiot, for sure.” He murmured, pressing a palm flat against the back of your head as to protect it from the banister.

Before he had the chance to move past the first step of the stairs, you shifted closer, nuzzling right into his touch. He took a quick glance at your face. Your eyes were shut and your lips were sealed. No need for him to be alerted. You were still passed out, or else you wouldn’t be cozying up to him.

It really was the last time. Even when he previously deluded himself into thinking the opposite, no room for doubt was left.

He smiled. An unhappy smile he didn’t mean in the slightest.

“You shouldn’t do that anymore.” He scolded, though he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He was scared that if he did, he’d get used to your absence and he didn’t want that. Not now, not ever.

How was he supposed to? How was he supposed to live in a world without you? A world without your smiles. Without your laughter, without your voice, without your warmth, without everything he’d fallen in love with.

“Say, Y/N. Do you still think of us samurai as heroes?” He knew better than to wait for an answer. “You said a lot of stupid things that day, but this one struck me the most. Maybe that’s the reason why I’m doing all these unnecessary things right now. In the end, you got it your way. Is this close enough for you? Are we close enough to be sharing such painful memories together?”

“I suppose we are.” He admitted. “We should be, or else why would I volunteer to carry this heavy burden for you?”

Downstairs was about as empty as the second floor was, albeit free of the countless bodies that adorned the latter. He wondered if he should just leave you there, but you’d probably rush upstairs the minute you woke up.

Where’s that old hag when you needed her?

“Say, Y/N. If the offer still stands, then it’s not too late to confide in you, is it? In that case, listen carefully because I don’t plan on repeating myself.

“Someone once taught me; it takes more than a sword to win a fight and less than a battle to lose a war. That man-he used to say this every time I sparred with that idiot. I kept writing his words off as loser’s talk for motivation, but I think I finally understand. Even though you never won against me, it’s been a while since I lost to you.

“You don’t know what that means, do you? Even if you were actually listening, you still wouldn’t know, would you?” A chuckle broke through the eerie silence.

“How could I let myself lose to such a stupid girl?” His voice caressed your ear devoid of any malice as he leaned closer. He considered planting a kiss on your forehead right where he’d hit you, but he quickly shook the thought away.

“You should hate me.” He drew his lips back. “No matter how hard it gets from now on, you’ll only endure it if you hate me. I won’t ask you to erase me, so instead, hate me with all you have. Hate me until no other emotion remains, until you can no longer remember how to love me again. Hate me, and get your revenge. Let hatred fuel your blade, and when the day comes, lead it into my chest. I’ll be waiting. I won’t die. As long as you insist on living another day, I won’t die.” Takasugi paused, pulling the door open with one hand and holding you with the other.

Finally, you’d made it out of this hellhole.

“You were never weak, Y/N. No matter how many tears you shed now, I’m sure that next time we meet, you’ll have the means to defeat me.” He continued, pacing across the porch and towards the main gate.

The faint outline of a silhouette awaited at the end of the road. Unruly gray hair matched the woman’s frantic steps, both moving in opposite directions. He could sense Harumi’s worry from where he stood, though he couldn’t quite condone her negligence. Because of her you had to see what you otherwise wouldn’t have, and because of her he had another’s pain to shoulder.

With his destination now set, Takasugi became more unwilling to let you go than before. His arms snared around your waist, lifting your forehead against his own. He breathed in your scent, allowing it to override all senses for a moment’s time.

You smelled so divine. He doubted he could ever love anyone’s scent the way he loved yours.

“If I don’t let you go right now, I don’t think I’ll ever will, Y/N.” He mumbled, feeling his heart flatter at the notion. “I just might be selfish enough to force you to love me like you always have. Like I always have. Like I… love you.”

Admitting it was far more painful than keeping it to himself was, though he couldn’t deny it to be liberating. At least now he knew what saying those three words out loud really felt like.

Lowering your head from his, he began to move again, until Harumi became aware of his presence. Hurried movements succeeded incomprehensible shrieks as she took hold of you, not so gently browsing your body for injuries and then sighing in relief once she realized you got none.

“Tell her I-” He initiated, only to nod the rest of his sentence off. “Tell her that I did this. All this.”

Without lingering a second longer, Takasugi let himself be guided by the first gust of wind away from there. So long as he left this place behind, the destination matter not.

And so, he kept on walking, and he kept on sprinting, and he kept on dragging his feet forward until the streets thinned and the trees densened. Until the sun set behind him and the winds stop carrying him forward. Until your story ended and a new one began.

A/N: Some of you may wonder why there seems to be a difference between what FL remembers (as per chapter 1) and what actually happened. I never meant for the dream she had in c1 to be a 1:1 description of how things went down. Memories get distorted over time, especially when they are traumatic. So, nope, Takasugi didn't stab her, there wasn't any smoke, the bloodshed was restricted to the top floor and those who died were mostly Oniwaban if not for a few actual guards here and there.

Anyways, that's about it for this chapter! The way I see it, about two chapters remain, tops three but I doubt that. I'm looking forward to ending this story because writing full on angst stories takes its toll on me, but at the same time, I don't intend to rush it. Will however take a short break before chapter 9 so I can do some requests.

[teatitty]

Title/Link: Smoke In His Lungs Rating: T+ Pairing: Takasugi/Sakamoto Additional Tags: Mild Angst, Pining, Longing, Shotgunning, Sakamoto Being an Oblivious Idiot, Takasugi casually seducing his homie, Past Takasugi/Gintoki/Katsura Word Count: 2.3K

Summary/Preview: “My room is fit for two, if you’re amenable to sharing.”

Tatsuma shivers. His mouth dries up so quickly he has to down the rest of his drink for liquid courage. He laughs. It sounds like a very different kind of proposition

A/N: SakaTaka is so fucking good and delicious and I'm mad that they're a rare pair how could anyone pass up this opposites attract goodness

[zurajanaizurakoda]

A Villain With a Redemption Arc is Sometimes Still Just a Villain

Mature

Takazura NC Ginzura C

7285 words

non consensual/graphic depictions of violence/animal death/implied sex/explicit sex/implied rape/angst/series appropriate violence/canon major character death/child on child violence (non sexual)/hurt comfort/hurt no comfort/hurt with attempts at comfort/kids in a war/non consensual haircuts/healing/crossdressing/explicit language/sociopath Takasugi Shnsuke/top Takasugi Shinsuke/switch Gintoki Sakata/switch Katsura Kotarou/I’m trying to tag for everything I can think of/does anyone actually want this fic

In which Takasugi is a kid who breaks his toys and Katsura unfortunately fits his definition of a toy and Gintoki just doesn’t like to see Katsura hurt.  A very messy TakaZuraGin triangle with a surprisingly fluffy GinZura ending.  Starts at Shoka Sonjuku and goes past the end of of The Very Final.

---

It happens the first time a few days after they join the school.  Gintoki doesn’t get how things happened, really, they kind of showed up on their own and made themselves at home.  The one with purple hair is an exceptional asshole, he’s known that since before they joined, but the one with long hair is a total enigma.  All Gintoki knows about Kazura (Hashira? Something he can’t be bothered to remember) is that, like Gintoki, the kid is an orphan with no ties to the world, and unlike Gintoki, he’s got a talent for books that sets him apart from the rest of the class.  Gintoki can’t tell if the kid is a genius or an idiot, but he keeps to himself and seems to have a sadness that Gintoki somehow wishes he could help with.  Sensei saved him, he can help Zurrachi.  

But anyway, it’s a few days after they get there that Gintoki sees it first.  Katsuma is talking to one of the girls, probably about nothing, when suddenly Asshole stalks out of nowhere.  Makes a beeline for the two, marches straight up to Long Hair,  grabs a big handful, and pulls hard.  Lots of people tug at his hair, it’s playing, but this is different.  This is intended solely to hurt, badly.  The kid stumbles, his head pulled back so he’s forced to look at The Jerk, and they stare at each other for a few seconds.  Long hair glares.  Asshole glares worse.  Then Asshole lets go and walks off like nothing happened.  Long Hair watches him leave, confusion on his face, and then goes to fix his ponytail without a comment.  There was no need for that, Gintoki thinks, and feels a strange feeling that’s not quite pity.  He almost goes up to the boy, but doesn’t.  They don’t know each other.  Those two probably won’t stay long, they’re used to nicer stuff than this.

It’s about a year later that the next thing happens.  Zura (It’s Katsura, Gintoki knows that now, but hell if he’ll say it, that’s an old man’s name and Zura is no old man, even though he acts like one occasionally) has been taking care of a young bird he found out in the garden.  Its wing is broken, and Sensei helped him set it right.  He’s been so careful, scrounging for food and making sure to keep the box warm at night, and the bird seems to be improving.  It’s sort of sweet, Gintoki guesses, and is sort of glad that the weird kid has a hobby besides studying.  He doesn’t offer to help, but he finds himself keeping tabs on the box when Zura is busy.

So the next morning when the box is missing, he feels some of the panic Zura feels.  Offers to help him search the entire school, the surrounding grounds.  Neither of them finds anything, and Gintoki feels terrible when he sees the tears in the corners of Zura’s eyes.  He wishes he could do something.

That afternoon, the bird shows up lifeless on the porch.  It looks like its neck is broken.

Takasugi did it, Gintoki knows it, doesn’t know how he knows.  Wonders if Zura knows, considers telling him, thinks better of it.  He has no proof.  He offers to help Zura bury his pet, but Zura wants to do it himself.  He doesn’t cry, he cried while they were looking but now that it’s over he just seems sullen and resigned.  Gintoki watches him from a nearby tree and feels something confusing.  Not just sadness, but another feeling that seems to be specific to when he thinks of Zura.  He gets in a fight with Takasugi later that afternoon, lets his fists a little looser than he normally would.  It doesn’t help.

It’s not that Zura doesn’t think, Gintoki realizes eventually, it’s just that his thoughts go around in a different way, and sometimes something strange comes out.  They’re Zura thoughts, and they’re not really right or wrong, they’re just different.  Sensei seems to understand him best, and Zura is never happier than when he’s prattling on with Sensei about things no one else can seem to comprehend.  His smile makes those weird Zura-specific feelings come back sometimes, but it’s warm and happy, not like the twisted ones when Zura gets hurt.

Hair-pulling is something boys do when they like someone and don’t know what to say, one of the girls tells him, and if that’s true then Takasugi must have a mountain of Zura feelings bouncing around in him.  One day he sees Takasugi pull Zura’s hair so hard it drags him to the ground after Zura says something a little strange but inoffensive.  He punches Takasugi right in his stupid face, and they both get in trouble.  Zura brings him an onigiri while he’s in time out, but doesn’t bring one for Takasugi.  He likes that.

Zura fights back sometimes, but he never returns violence with violence, and he never goes to Sensei with his problems.  Gintoki thinks Sensei might have a suspicion, though, he seems to develop a sixth sense for appearing out of nowhere when Takasugi gets in one of his moods.  Takasugi never acts up when Sensei is there, Sensei seems to calm that part of Takasugi that makes him a total asshole.  Gintoki just wishes the effect didn’t wear off so quickly.

He hears a rumor a few months later.  Someone says that Takasugi kissed Zura that afternoon, back by the river.  Neither of them confirm it or deny it, but it sounds about right.  Gintoki feels Zura feelings and begrudgingly hopes they’re happy.  Sensei doesn’t say anything, but that night he rearranges the sleeping arrangements.  Zura’s futon is no longer next to Takasugi’s, but across the hall, with Gintoki.  Gintoki doesn’t like that, he hates the way Zura sleeps with his eyes open, but it seems a little weird that Sensei separated them.  Maybe he thinks they’re too young for these things.  If the kissing continues, Gintoki doesn’t hear about it.  Zura seems his usual, spacey self.  They certainly don’t act like a couple.  Gintoki wonders again if Takasugi feels Zura feelings, assumes he does, and wonders why they don’t make him want to be nicer to Zura.

The night Sensei is taken, Takasugi flips his shit.  Gintoki almost misses it because the world is fucking ending, but by the light of the fire he sees Takasugi go for Zura’s hair, pull him back until he’s almost bent in half, and punch him directly in the face.  “You did nothing!”  he screams.  “You just let them take Sensei!”  Zura was definitely crying before the punch, but he says nothing, just raises his arms to protect from further assault.  Takasugi pauses, screams in anger, and goes for another punch.  The second punch is worse, and they’re kids, they’re not too strong, but Zura is bleeding heavily from the nose as Takasugi lines up another punch.  Before Gintoki can even think, he’s by their side, pulling Takasugi off the other boy.

“No one could do anything!” he screams, pushing Takasugi to the ground.  Takasugi looks into his eyes, and there’s murder there.  He stands, and Gintoki moves instinctively to keep him from getting to Zura.  “It’s not his fault! The hell’s your problem?!”  Takasugi says nothing, just glares, and they both know there’s no reason for it.  Takasugi has something fucking in him for Zura, and Gintoki doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t like it.  He briefly remembers the kiss they might have shared, and doesn’t wish them happiness at all.  He wishes Takasugi would keep his fucking hands to himself.  Behind them, Zura fixes his ponytail, crying quietly.  He doesn’t say anything.

Gintoki catches them one day years later, while they’re supposed to be practicing.  Takasugi has Zura pinned against a tree, a big handful of Zura’s hair like usual, and they’re kissing deep.  Not the crush way, the lover way.  Zura’s grabbing the tree tightly with both hands like he’s afraid his legs will give out.  When they see him, they draw apart.  Zura’s face is red as he turns, fixing his hair.  Takasugi stares directly at Gintoki, and he hates it.  The Zura feelings are back, churning his stomach, and he almost calls out.  “Why this asshole?  You deserve better.”  But Zura is hurrying back to camp, and after a few moments Takasugi follows him.  Gintoki goes for a walk, burying his thoughts and feelings.  That night he moves his futon next to Zura’s, forget the weird wide-eyed sleeping.  This isn’t right, he thinks to himself.  This is wrong.

He doesn’t catch them again, and they still don’t act like a couple.  Zura still spends most of his time alone, studying.  He’s smart, Gintoki knows now, even if he can be a complete idiot and has terrible taste in men.  He brings Zura tea and waits to see if Zura wants to talk about his interruption, but Zura wants to study.

It’s not until the war that he gets the next bad feeling.  Takasugi and Zura left scouting in different directions, but they came back together.  Not really together together, but close enough they had to be aware of each other.  Zura is breathing a little heavily, his clothes look a bit disheveled for a scouting mission.  His hair is a mess, Gintoki realizes, and he hasn’t bothered to fix it.  He’s usually more careful about that.  Not just the Zura feelings but the this-is-wrong feelings are back in full swing.  Takasugi goes off on his own, Zura goes to his tent.  When he comes back out, he’s perfectly composed, no sign of distress.  He excuses himself to go to the planning tent.  On impulse, Gintoki grabs him by the shoulder, turns him to face him.  Zura’s eyes go a little wide, but he says nothing.  

“You deserve better,” he says, and feels disgusted with himself.  Zura just stares at him, those narrow brown eyes incomprehensible, and then turns away.  He wonders if he’d feel the same way if he didn’t want to kiss Zura too.  He’s pretty sure that he would.  They never speak of it again.

But it happens again.  Not often, but it does.  The sight of Zura’s hair messed up in his ponytail gets Gintoki riled up and he doesn’t know why.  No, he does know exactly why.  He just doesn’t know what to do about it.

Zura is off limits.  The new recruits often notice him, but he’s spoken for.  Everyone knows it, although no one knows quite how this knowledge is passed.  Zura spends most of his time alone, but sometimes when he’s not alone Gintoki notices Takasugi herding him off, keeping him separate.  Zura never joins the fireside for drinks after a battle, always goes straight to his tent.  Takasugi doesn’t even seem to want to spend the time together, he seems to just hate seeing Zura with others.  Gintoki’s not sure if it’s because of whatever the fuck their relationship is, or that part of Takasugi that just breaks Zura’s toys to hurt him, but it’s wrong.  He wonders how things got this way.  Sakamoto and him are the only ones who seem allowed to socialize with Zura outside of meetings and training, but Zura’s still spacey and often thinking Zura thoughts when he’s not reading.

The hair pulling should have gone away with childhood, but it doesn’t.  If anything, it gets worse.  One day, in the middle of a meeting, there’s an argument about tactics.  Takasugi wants blood, Zura wants safety for the troops. Neither is backing down, and the air is thick with tension, when suddenly Takasugi grabs a handful of the black hair and slams Zura’s head into the table at full force.  He holds it there, that look he gets sometimes that’s just seething hate, until the feeling passes, and then he turns and leaves without comment.  Zura’s fine, he’s always had the strongest forehead of anyone Gintoki’s met, but the glare he throws at Takasugi’s back as he fixes his ponytail definitely isn’t that of a lover.  Zura continues his presentation like nothing happened, and his plan is ultimately chosen.  Lives are probably saved.  Zura knows he deserves better, Gintoki thinks, and it somehow brings him some relief.  Gintoki brings him a bottle of pocari chilled to sherbert consistency  and waits for a while to see if he wants to talk, but he doesn’t.

Zura is a genius at getting information.  No one knows his methods, but he’s become a lead at intel.  He likes costumes, goes out in weird outfits sometimes.  One day he comes back to camp in a full western dress, complete with high heels,  fuck knows where he got them.  He walks well in them, even on the uneven ground of the camp.  It makes him walk differently, swaying his hips a little.  Gintoki doesn’t know if he likes it or not, but he follows Zura to his tent, transfixed.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Takasugi watching him as well, and when their eyes meet, Takasugi pulls his lips back in a sneer.  Gintoki hates that.  Hates it so much.  He finds reason to hang out around Zura’s tent until he comes back out in regular dress, happily showing Gintoki the small, round bombs he’s managed to steal from an enemy supplier.  His sleeves are full of them.  Gintoki feels the happy Zura feeling for the first time in a while.

—

It’s another night, deep into the war, when everything breaks.  They’re making their way back to camp separately after a battle, each on their own, when Gintoki hears it.  “No!  Shinsuke, no.”  He didn’t realize they were so close, just beyond some bushes.  He definitely didn’t realize they were together.  He turns, and through the leaves he sees Takasugi grab the other man by the hair like he always does, dragging him into a clearing, out of Gintoki’s sight.  Hand on his sword, Gintoki follows them, praying it’s not what it looks like.  It can’t be what it looks like.  Zura would have said something.  Zura would have said something to him, right?  His mind is suddenly going through a hundred conversations, trying to find a moment when he’d given Zura a reason not to come to him.  He trips on some roots, but the other two are apparently too locked in conversation to hear him crashing around.  He stumbles to his feet, cursing time lost.

“No!”  Zura repeats again, forcefully.  “It’s a fucking battlefield, Shinsuke.  Have some respect for the dead.”

There’s a sneer in Takasugi’s voice.  “You’ve always got to find something to bitch about.”

“I feel disgusting.  I’ve been fighting since morning.  No.”

“You’ve got a mouth, haven’t you?  Don’t go getting prissy on me now, Zura.  Be useful for a change.” 

“It’s not Zura, it’s Ka-!” there’s the sound of a heavy slap, and Zura must be going to the ground.  Zura’s a fighter, it takes a lot to throw him around.  Gintoki’s blood has been boiling for the whole conversation, but his vision goes red.  He rounds the corner to confront them.

Zura is on his knees, glaring at Takasugi.  His cheek is bright red and his hand is on the hilt of his sword, although he makes no effort to draw it.  Takasugi has his hand in Zura’s hair as usual, a big heavy fistful, and he’s holding Zura to his knees, close to his crotch.  Zura notices him first.  “Ginto-” he stops as the fist yanks him painfully, as Takasugi looks up.

“The fuck is this.”  Gintoki hisses, drawing his sword.  The hair on his arms is standing on end.

“None of your fucking business, Sakata.”  Takasugi drawls it out, like he merely interrupted a private conversation, but he throws Zura back to the ground.  Again, it’s not easy, it takes a lot of rage and muscle to throw the man and it must be fucking hell on his hair roots.  Gintoki finally has a solid image of how Zura’s hair ends up so tangled, and he’s furious. Takasugi’s sword is out, and his stance tightens when he realizes that Gintoki’s out for blood.  “Keep your nose out of things, Silver.”  They size each other up for a second.  In the back of his mind, Gintoki again wonders if Takasugi ever felt anything for Zura except the need to break, to destroy.  His blood rushes in his ears.  Zura gets to his feet.

“Gintoki, don’t-!”  It’s Zura’s plea for peace, of all things, that breaks his fury.  He swings at Takasugi, going straight for his heart.  Takasugi sidesteps, parries, thrusts.  They’ve fought before, even with live blades, but this is different. There’s no camaraderie, no sport.  This is life or death.  He takes a deep cut to the arm, screams, charges.  Zura tries to get between them.  Gintoki gets Takasugi in the side, turns his sword, goes for the throat.  Zura’s sword is drawn, but there’s not much he can do.  He calls again for an end.  

Gintoki is disarmed, and for a second it’s over, it’s all over, but he’s too fucking furious to die here and he launches himself at Takasugi, sword and all.  Knocks them both over.  Catches Takasugi off guard, straddles his chest, punches him full in the face.  Keeps punching as the blood spreads everywhere.  He’s going to obliterate that stupid fucking face, punch it until there’s nothing left, no skin, no bone.  He feels arms around his chest and almost takes a swing at Zura in his fury.  He’s dragged back.  “Fucking hell, Zura, let me go!”  he screams, thrashing to get back to his prey.  Zura is strong, as strong as either of them, and he pulls Gintoki off.  Gintoki screams in frustration.

“We need him!  We need him!”  Zura’s voice suddenly reaches him, and it’s such a fucking Zura response that it breaks him out of his stupor.  He looks at Zura, numb and broken.  “We need him,” Zura repeats, his eyes averted.  “He’s the best general we have.  His troops are unstoppable.”

“Fucking Zura…” he breathes, heart pounding in his chest, feelings screaming in his stomach.  “He…” he can’t find the words.  “He hurt you.”  he finally says.

“You think I don’t know that?” Zura replies, quiet and unknowable.  He doesn’t release his grip on Gintoki.  “We can’t have infighting like this, Gintoki.  We need to remain united.”

“How long? How fucking long?!”  Gintoki yells, turning and grabbing Zura by the shoulders.  “How long has he been-” he stops, teeth clenched.

Zura’s silence speaks volumes.  It’s always been like this, Gintoki realizes, there was no puppy love, no romance that went sour.  Because Zura always knew he deserved better and Takasugi never fucking cared.  It’s always been Takasugi claiming what he thought was his, breaking for the sake of breaking. Because whatever fucking beast got into him that sends him after Zura is always howling, be it for blood or otherwise.  And Zura, gods bless him, is just trying to make the best of a fucking terrible situation.  Maybe still trying to play the peacekeeper.  He thinks back to the day he found them kissing and wishes desperately he had killed Takasugi then.  

Takasugi groans behind them.  He’s done, he’s barely conscious, and Gintoki turns to him.  Picks up his sword, fully intending to thrust it directly into Takasugi’s bastard heart.

And then Zura is between them, sword in hand.  “We need him, Gintoki.”  he repeats.  “Please, don’t make me do this.  We have few enough men as it is.”  he shifts, feet going into an attack stance, and Gintoki knows he’s serious.  He’s dangerous.  “Don’t make me do this,” he repeats, voice wavering.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Zura!!”

“It’s not Zura,” Zura hisses, “It’s Katsura.” he’s not backing down.

Gintoki goes through a thousand emotions at once.  He lets out a strange whine, finding no words.  Zura hesitantly lowers his sword slightly, steps forward.  His face is conflicted, like he’s seeking approval, god knows what for.  Zura’s been through fucking hell, he probably doesn’t want to lose his one real friend.

Gintoki grabs him by the wrist and runs.

“Gintoki, wait! Gintoki-” Zura trips after him.

He won’t allow it.  He can see Zura on his knees, treating Takasugi, washing the blood from his face, bandaging him with strips of his clothing.  Playing the goddamn peacekeeper because he doesn’t know how else to live.  He can’t take that, Gintoki knows.  He’ll go insane if Zura nurses the man from the wounds he got trying to hurt him.  He doesn’t stop running, doesn’t listen to Zura until they’re at his tent, safely back at camp.  He stops there and lets go of Zura’s wrist, and stands there uselessly, not sure what to say.  They both stand there, catching their breath.

Zura finally meets his eyes, seems to have questions, decides not to ask them.  He enters the tent without complaint and lights his lantern.  Through the fabric, Gintoki can see him sit at his trunk of belongings, combing his hair back into place like it’s any other night.  He reads before going to sleep.  Gintoki feels sick, feels furious, feels lost.  The Zura feelings are choking him and he doesn’t know what to do.  He sleeps outside of Zura’s tent that night.

Takasugi stumbles back into camp the next day like he’s drunk.  They fight again, but there’s no teeth to it, it’s just going through the motions.  Sakamoto breaks them up, and Gintoki makes sure to eat dinner with Zura, although they don’t talk.  He moves his tent next to Zura’s that afternoon, not really knowing what he’s doing.  Something has changed, something they can’t get back.  He just doesn’t want to see Zura hurt.

“I don’t hate him,” Zura says out of the blue one day, while they’re scouting.  He says it like they’re discussing the weather, and it takes a minute to realize who he’s referring to.  “I don’t like him, but I don’t hate him.  It’s complicated,” he drinks a can of Pocari.  Gintoki grunts, not knowing what to say at first.

“I hate him,” he announces.  “I’ll hate him enough for the both of us.  I’ll kill that fucker one day.”

Zura turns to him.  “Do you… hate me?”  he finally asks.  He’s thinking Zura thoughts, as usual, and he seems troubled in a way only Zura can be.  He makes eye contact, a rarity these days, and his eyes are full of secret conflict.

Gintoki snarls, goes through a levy of emotions.  Draws Zura into a hug before he realizes he’s doing it.  “Like I could ever hate you, you idiot,” he breathes, looking into the deep brown eyes.  Zura is still thinking, he doesn’t know what about, and he wants to kiss him more than he’s ever wanted anything but he doesn’t know how to ask and he doesn’t want to take, so he kisses Zura’s dumb forehead gently through the thick bangs and then releases him.  Zura continues watching him until he turns and goes back to camp alone.  Another understanding passes between them, though he’s not quite sure what it is, and Zura stops acting like he’s walking on eggshells around him.  Gintoki is silently grateful.

It doesn’t happen again, at least Gintoki doesn’t think it does, and he’s been keeping an eye out for it now.  He finds reasons to stay with Zura, even when they’re fighting.  Every time he sees Zura’s hair disheveled, bile rises in his throat, even when he knows it’s not Takasugi’s handiwork.  Takasugi continues to fight like a demon, his favorite distraction taken from him.  He doesn’t confront them, although sometimes Takasugi looks at Zura and it makes Gintoki furious.  He hates how cold the eyes are.  Takasugi’s never felt fucking Zura feelings in his fucking life.

He’ll kill that fucker someday.

But they’re all Shouyou’s students on the hillside, and he can feel Takasugi’s pain when he howls for their master.  He unties Takasugi first, gods know why.  He’s hurt badly, he needs to punch Gintoki.  Gintoki gets it, he really does.  A few punches will do wonders for him.

Takasugi pushes him out of the way and goes straight for Zura who’s still on the ground, still bound.  “This is your fucking fault!” he screams, his voice as broken as it was when he was yelling for Gintoki to stop.  “You were the one that got captured!  We were rescuing you!”  he grabs a huge fistful of Zura’s hair and pulls him to his knees, drawing his sword.  “This is your fucking fault!”  Zura doesn’t react.

He’s going to kill Zura, Gintoki thinks, heart in his throat.  Takasugi’s going to fucking kill Zura and I’m going to kill him and this whole fucking thing will have been for nothing.  It’s his own fucking fault, he knows fucking Takasugi has it in for Zura, what the fuck was he thinking?! He killed sensei for this! But as he raises, drawing his sword, running to help, his mind already focusing on losing the last two people he knows in the world, Takasugi pulls back harder and draws his blade through Zura’s long, beautiful hair.

The ponytail comes off in his hand, and Zura falls back to the ground, his face covered by his now short hair.  He doesn’t struggle, doesn’t even move.  Takasugi stands up, throws the ponytail on the ground and spits.  Gintoki doesn’t know why he did it.  Likely Takasugi himself doesn’t know.  He’s just  always had it in for fucking Zura, breaking things just to have them broken.  There’s something strangely intimate and violating in the action, something very Takasugi about it.  He’s always gone for Zura’s hair and now he��s taken it all.  Gintoki still rises, puts himself bodily between the two men in case Takasugi isn’t done yet.

But something has changed, something in Takasugi has snapped, even more than it had been.  His beast has grown too savage to be quelled by Zura’s blood, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  When Takasugi speaks, he addresses Zura, not him.  “You’re no samurai.  You’re fucking dirt.  You’re nothing.”  he snarls.  “Don’t ever show your face before me again.”  he storms off.

Gintoki stays, unties Zura, who looks strange and somehow vulnerable with his hair shorn short and uneven.  Zura doesn’t cry, still does nothing. He thanks Gintoki blankly, looks at the handful of his hair like he’s debating picking it up, and then turns to go back to camp without it.  Gintoki follows and hates himself.

Zura goes back to camp to stay, goes back to his position, back to his job.  Gintoki sticks around for a few days, just to make sure Takasugi Isn't coming back. He’s not.  His reasons for staying are gone.  Zura evens out his hair, but it’s still a reminder of things they lost.  There’s not enough for even a small ponytail, and he seems unanchored, his hands twitching to the short strands often.  There’s a loss there he’s still processing, both tangible and intangible.  Zura thoughts.  They don’t discuss Sensei.  They don’t really talk at all.  Sakamoto has been gone for a while now.  Zura seems to spend a lot of time thinking Zura thoughts, and Gintoki suspects that those thoughts are bad.  It’s not something he can help with.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the day he leaves, his few possessions on his back.

“I’m sorry too,” Zura says before turning back to camp.  That’s what a general does.  The war is effectively over, but a general doesn’t abandon his troops. 

They don’t see each other for ten years.

—

Gintoki isn’t surprised at all to see Zura’s a terrorist, he’s seen the wanted posters the last few years, hasn’t he?  Zura’s buried hundreds, maybe thousands of comrades over the years, and it obviously still affects him deeply.  He’s still a goddamn general, lost war and all.  Gintoki is actually a little surprised that Zura specifically seeks him out, he figures he’s nothing but a very bad memory.  He tries to talk some sense into Zura, tries to get him to put down his unmanageable burden, and isn’t surprised when Zura bristles in response.  

He is surprised again when Zura remains in his world, albeit the very furthest reaches.   When Zura helps him rescue what he's begrudgingly beginning to see as his children. He gets a massive space duck, of all things, and somehow that seems to mellow him out.  The duck seems to be able to keep up with his weirdest thoughts the way no one but Sensei has, and they’re a dangerous pair but Gintoki’s glad he has a hobby that’s not twisting the knife in his own back.

The Zura feelings still bubble up occasionally, and sometimes, especially when Zura is being particularly silly, he’s surprised to find he still wants to kiss the man.  And sometimes, especially when Zura is being particularly silly, he gets a strange feeling that Zura wants to kiss him too.  He doesn’t act on it, doesn’t believe either of them ever will, but it’s nice.

He wonders idly what the duck would say.

Gintoki goes crazy when he sees the hair in Nizou’s hand, sees him rub it against his face.  He knows Zura isn’t dead, he can’t be, Zura’s gone through worse shit than this.  Gintoki has seen Zura’s intestines peeking through a slash in his stomach, prayed to gods he didn’t believe in, and grieved for the loss of his friend, and Zura has gotten better.  Zura’s alive somewhere, and he’s been savaged again.  Something’s been taken from him.  He’s probably alone, and Gintoki wishes he could be wherever that is.  He swings at Nizou blindly, he fights on instinct, he doesn’t really realize how badly he’s injured until the fight is over.  Zura is alone out there somewhere alone, while Gintoki’s friends care for him.

Then Zura’s on the boat, and he’s injured, but he holds his head high and his sword steady.  Gintoki knows something has transpired between him and Takasugi again, but it doesn’t seem to rest heavy on Zura’s shoulders.  They fight back to back for the first time in ten years, and Gintoki realizes he knows the familiar footwork like it was yesterday.  He’s hurt badly, but he’s enjoying himself.  He wonders briefly if Takasugi ordered his minion to take Zura’s hair, or if there’s just something about massive assholes and Zura’s topknot.  Zura doesn’t seem as bothered this time and Gintoki is just glad to see him in one piece.

Zura jumps off the boat, and Gintoki follows him, not quite sure what his plan is.  It doesn’t seem quite as stupid before he realizes they’re hundreds of feet above the water.  He clings to Zura for dear life and wonders if this is the end.

Then a parachute opens, and they’re gliding.  He continues his death grip on Zura as they float to the water.  Zura talks to him, words tearing away in the wind, something about their books from school.  Gintoki’s is gone.  He’s not surprised that Zura still has his.  Zura doesn’t let go easily.

They reach the ground, and Gintoki is slow to let go of Zura.  They’re both alive, against all odds, and he hasn’t felt this weird rush in years.  The parachute ride only seemed to intensify the feeling, and literally clinging to Zura’s body for several minutes has had an effect on him.  Zura’s hands are on his shoulders, but he’s not pushing him off.  They stay that way for a while.  

The Zura feelings are stronger than they’ve been since the war, and Gintoki doesn’t fight them, just lets them flow through his body.  He runs his fingers through Zura’s cropped hair and catches his breath, feels Zura’s chest heaving against his.  He still doesn’t know how to ask and he still doesn’t want to take, but when Zura pulls him closer their lips meet and something breaks and he’s clawing, grasping desperately for Zura, who holds him tight.  They kiss like they’re fighting, rough and needy, and nothing’s felt this right since before the war, since they were somewhat innocent kids against a heartless fucking world.

They make love for the first time in the rocks by the harbor, smelling of blood and sea breeze, loving and hurting and feeling, and it’s awkward and uncomfortable, but it’s wonderful.  He loves the noises Zura makes, the way he moves against him, the obvious need in his actions.  The tired smile Zura gives him at the end is amazing.

They don’t spend long there, they’re both bleeding out, and Zura’s men are apparently searching for them because by the time they reach pavement there’s a truck there with men and medical supplies and the weird massive duck that’s always following Zura.  Who knows how it got here from the ship.  He doesn’t really know what Zura’s up to these days, doesn’t really want to know, but he’s got enough power and connections to get a sterile blood infusion started in the back of the truck, and Gintoki badly needs blood.  Zura holds his hand while the liquid fills his starving veins, and it feels nice.  The hand, that is, he can’t really feel the blood.  Zura drops him off at his place with hospital grade antibiotics and painkillers that he thinks are amanto, but gods they work well so he doesn’t care.  Zura goes back to his insurgents and his duties and his space duck, and Gintoki goes back to his kids.  But there’s been yet another shift in his relationship with Zura, and this one seems like a really good thing.

He finds out later from the kids that Zura went after Takasugi, tried to talk to him like a comrade, and only got his head promised to the Harusame out of the deal.  Gods know what he was thinking, maybe about their childhood, maybe about Sensei.  Maybe just some missguided need to play the peacemaker again after all these years.  Maybe because, despite everything that happened, Zura doesn’t hate Takasugi.  It’s complicated, Zura had said, and that’s likely the tip of an iceberg that will never quite surface.  He doesn’t ask.

The sex happens a few more times, and they don’t really plan it, but it’s nice.  Zura shows up for no reason out of nowhere more often, space duck normally in tow, and that’s nice too.  Gintoki doesn’t like the war and doesn’t like that Zura’s still fighting it, but he does what he wants and he can’t really give Zura shit for doing what he wants.  Zura never stopped fighting, doesn’t know how to stop fighting, Gintoki knows.  But sometimes when he rests, he rests with Gintoki, and it’s nice.

One day he happens upon Zura, In full women’s clothes, again with the heels.  He’s off gathering information, somehow, but when Gintoki meets him they end up paying for a sleazy hotel even though both of them are flat broke.  Gintoki isn’t confused this time, he really likes the way Zura can walk in the shoes, the swivel it puts in his hips.  He laughs when Zura won’t let him tear the pantyhose off him, says he still needs those for his mission.  Zura laughs too, and Gintoki loves the sound as they both work to get the garments off without leaving runs.  He doesn’t mind a bit when Zura takes control of the situation and fucks him roughly in a skirt that barely covers his toned thighs.

He feels weird on Rakuyou when they meet up with Takasugi again, but Zura takes it in stride.  He spits in Sakamoto’s face just like Gintoki, and Takasugi doesn’t go after him like he used to.  His beast has shifted, smelling new blood, and he pursues Utsuro with his usual single mindedness.  Gintoki still keeps between them, feels his blood racing when they get close.  It almost seems unfair that Takasugi takes so little interest in Zura after all the shit he pulled.  Gintoki wonders again if he ever had feelings for Zura besides the desire to see him break, and it makes his blood boil.  Zura’s good, though, and if he’s having his Zura thoughts it’s not overwhelming him.  Gintoki’s surprised when Zura engages in some light flirting, but it warms his heart.  Life goes on, and flowers can bloom in the worst adversity.  He still hates Takasugi.

Something has passed between Zura and Takasugi again when he wasn’t looking, but he doesn’t get the chance to ask.  The assassination wasn’t real, Zura is still here, the feelings that he felt about Zura’s death are over before he has a chance to process them.  He thinks Takasugi’s taken something from Zura again, or at least tried to, but Zura’s gotten stronger.  He hasn’t given anything.  They run for the terminal, reunited as Shouyou’s students once more.  

He doesn’t approve when Zura decides to stay in the ship as it’s coming down, but he does his own shit and he can’t really say anything when Zura does his own.  Zura’s the lowest in the ship when it goes down, and it takes a while to find him under the wreckage.  He’s fine, not a scratch on him despite the literal tons of metal that fell around him.  His brown eyes find Gintoki’s, and he’s obviously still processing what happened.

Gintoki offers him a hand.  “Takasugi is dead,” he says, although he’s pretty sure Zura already knows, and Zura just nods absently in response.

“I didn’t hate him,” Zura replies after a long bout of very strong Zura thoughts, his hand raising to his hair and running his fingers through it distractedly like he’s surprised he kept it this time.  “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t hate.”  he twists a finger in his long hair and he tugs it.  “In some ways, I pitied him.”

Zura takes his hand, and Gintoki helps him to his feet.  “I hated him,” he says, and finds it’s true even if it’s not as strong as it used to be, “but I think I understand him better.”

“He always had a beast in him,” Zura replies, head still very much full of Zura thoughts, hopefully not too bad, “even when he was little.  Something he couldn’t control.”  He looks over the wreckage with his eyes that always seem so old and wisened yet blissfully empty.  “You were right, Gintoki.  Sensei was still there.  I didn’t expect to see him again.”  He closed his eyes.  “Thank you, Gintoki.”

Gintoki smiles, feeling an openness he hasn’t felt in years, and impulsively places a kiss on Zura’s long hair, somewhere around his temple.

“Do you two need a moment?”  comes a voice from behind them.  He forgot he has his kids with him. He turns.

“Come on, you’re sixteen now!  That’s old enough for an R15 doujinshi!  You can handle a little kissing!” he protests, and then, because it feels like an important moment and he doesn’t want to let it slip away, he turns Zura’s face and kisses him properly on the mouth for good measure.  Kagura whoops, Zura blushes slightly, Shinpachi just seems like he saw it coming.  He puts an arm around Zura, both supporting him and being supported by him.  They’ve been through some shit, yet again.  This time, however, it seems like things will finally go back to normal, or a new normal.  And, hey, maybe Zura can be a more prominent part of this new normal.  “Are we done here?”  he asks Zura.

Zura looks like he’s burying a lot of things that needed to be buried, both in life and in his private Zura thoughts.  He smiles at Gintoki.  “I’m done,” he says.  They leave together, and Zura spends the night at the Yorozuya even if Gintoki doesn’t have a room anymore and they end up sleeping across the table from each other on separate couches.  Elizabeth shows up in the morning with lots of questions about the happenings after the assassination attempt, and the four explain it together.  It’s nice, Gintoki thinks, and feels the warm Zura feelings of childhood.

Zura (It’s Katsura if he really wants it to be, Gintoki has finally decided, he just doesn’t know how to break the news.  It feels like it has to be special, like pulling out a ring) is doing some weird vigilante shit, and Gintoki doesn’t really understand it but he guesses it’s fine.  Zura always had a lot of weird Zura energy and weird Zura thoughts, and they need an outlet, even if he’s conquered the country and reformed the government he was trying to change.  It gives him time with his precious duck, and that seems to be important for proper Zura enrichment.

The duck, by the way, turns out to be a more enthusiastic wingman than even Kagura is.

Zura’s still wanted, maybe, it’s hard to tell, but it’s difficult to arrest a guy who has coffee with the princess on a weekly basis and constantly texts Shimaru memes.  He doesn’t bother to wear disguises anymore, although he sometimes does for fun, and Gin isn’t a bit surprised when he comes to Zura’s apartment and sees a pair of red heels next to the sandals in the entrance.  Zura’s a champ in them, and they make his calves look nice.

He’s been spending a lot of time at Zura’s place.  Can you blame him?  He doesn’t have a room anymore.  They have sex, and sometimes it’s still frantic and needy, but sometimes it’s also gentle and silly.  Sometimes they just make out and watch reruns.  He’s learned the ins and outs, the scars and muscles of Zura’s body, and he finds it’s comfortable to just be with the man for the sake of being with him.  He gets the warm Zura feelings in his chest often, and he’s beginning to admit that it’s what he always suspected: love.

And Zura?  He still has Zura thoughts, a lot of them, and Gintoki doesn’t really understand them any more than he did when they were kids, but he doesn’t seem to have many of the bad ones.  He doesn’t just go away from himself for no reason.  He’s healing, Gintoki realizes, and maybe he doesn’t have to keep busy every second of his life just to keep from thinking bad thoughts.  Zura enjoys being with him just for the sake of being together.  Zura, Gintoki thinks, probably loves him at least a little too.

Sakamoto said that Sensei was living in the altana of the planet, watching over them, and that he wants them to be happy.  Maybe, just maybe, he’s smiling at the thought of his students finally finding some real happiness after all the shit that’s happened.  

And that’s not a miracle.  That’s just what Senseis do.

—

This is partially because I went trolling through Gintama doujinshi and most of the Katsura ones seem to be him in a fucking awful toxic relationship with Takasugi and that’s just the way it goes and I know that’s kind of the point of the doujinshi because that’s just how they are but it somehow got into my brain.  Then it went Ginzura because that’s the way my brain goes these days and I’m secretly terrified that Katsura is in love with Gin and Gin isn’t in love with Katsura and I just want my boy Zura to be happy (despite the fact that all my fics right now are about him being miserable)  I think the end is too fluffy for the beginning, but it’s hard not to get a little silly when you get into the actual series and I can’t just write Elizabeth off because I’m convinced Elizabeth is essential to Katsura’s mental health.  Speaking of Katsura’s mental health, I don’t have any official diagnosis but he’s definitely got some PTSD (who doesn’t in this series) and he’s definitely disassociating during some of his Zura moments but he’s also neurodivergent and probably genderfluid. Poor boy needs someone to understand him.

I’m going to be real, I have no idea what happened during the Prime Minister Assassination scene.  I’ve watched the movie and read the manga several times, but I’m not sure what’s in it for Katsura (He says they were working together?) and I’m not really sure if Takasugi came into it with an intention to kill, but it seems like he did?  But my boy seems to have gotten through it just fine?  I really like to think that Gin went in to kill when he thought Takasugi killed Katsura, although I don’t know if he even knew.

And I’ll be real, I didn’t really think about medically inadvisable grievous injury sex after the Benizakura Arc but I watched the movie version while I was writing this and you can’t tell me at least one of them didn’t get a boner during the parachute scene.  Even if they were both stone cold straight it would happen. 

Sensei totally ships GinZura.  Not up for debate.

If you like the idea of Katsura and Gin fucking more explicitly and with less angst, I’d recommend you check out my blog because I’m bad at math but I think it’ll be about a month before I get an invitation to AO3 so I don’t really know where to post fics.  Political Lessons are Only Important if you can Hold Your Listener's Attention in particular I’m proud of.

[kitamars]

oh are there any other gintama ships you're a fan of btw?

I got an ask about this sometime ago so I figured I'd just put the answer here so here you gooooo :3

but also!!! now I'm angsting over bansai and takasugi.........oughhhhhhh...........pain and suffering

[rattle-em-spooky-jones]

Complete List of All My WIPs

You know when you’re bored and simultaneously procrastinating. Yeah.

Anyway, here’s a comprehensive list of my WIPs which are sorted by fandom. In order, it’s Gintama, DC, Jujutsu Kaisen, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure and then some misc. fandoms. It’ll be updated as I get more WIPs. Few have playlists that I made for the fic specifically, or for the general ship/ characters.

(Edit: adding a Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure section because I started it like a week back and already know I Will be having WIPs)

If any of you guys want to know more about any of the fics, just send me an ask. I’d be happy to answer. (*´▽`*)

Gintama:

1. The Misadventures of Mutsu and Sakamoto

Self explanatory, just a little comedic thing.

2. Everyone’s crazy about a sharply dressed man, or in this case… an idiotic merchant?

The only thing I've written for this is 'Essentially the story of different people realizing that Sakamoto is actually really hot.' I can't even say anything to defend myself, Chief.

3.Copper veins, Hands clenched tight

Kouka on Kounan fic. Follows different epithets she has throughout her life [The Blessed, The Cursed, The Lonely, The Master of Kounan, Kouka]

4. Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep 

Premise has huge spoilers so I’ll just give a sparknotes version - Takasugi fakes his death, manages to piss off Sakamoto, Zura, and the entirety of Kabukicho.

5. Digging too Deep 

Sakamoto thinks about his childhood, realizes its more messed up than he thought.

6. As Winds Pass By 

Also has huge spoilers in its premise. Sparknotes version is that this takes place in a world where the canon ending of Gintama happened, and then the second movie's premise of the epidemic happens. Somehow, in the midst of all of this, Sakamoto realizes that he's now immortal.

7. For all the stars in the universe (I was entranced into orbiting you) 

 Atmospheric 2nd person fic following Sakamoto and his unrequited love towards Gintoki. Lots of space metaphors.

8. A person by any other name would still be just as stupid 

Absolutely no clue what's it about, I have written a page though.

9. You know you have cool friends when you guys would be considered an invasive species

My Hero Academia crossover where the Joi 4 get dropped into the MHA universe, get annoyed at the league of villains and decide they're gonna create a better one. A very crack-y fic.

10. Star Eater 

Sakamoto isn't quite human. follows his life from birth to just after the end of the war. I have been half-jokingly calling it my magnum opus.

11. Kakashi’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (Posted, will update)

Naruto crossover where Kakashi gets dropped into the Gintama universe. No I have not abandoned it, yes it has been like 3 years since I last updated.

DC:

Gen:

12. Unfridged (Reforged)

Alexandra DeWitt’s journey as a ghost through Greek lands, with Nyx (?) wanting to her to be their presence in the real world, but she has to go through trials before she can do so.

13.  Mirror Mirror On the Wall

A Hal Jordan angst fic grappling with identity. Written in second person and has the style of ‘Bluets’ but focuses on green.

14.  It Will Come Back

In the 25th century, the wards around Gotham keep out creatures that for some reason only Booster's family can see. The 21st century doesn't have those kind of wards.

TimKon:

15. Fingers Entwined, Hearts in Beat

An Orpheus and Eurydice TimKon au. Angst is at full throttle.

16. Top Gun Superboy (working title) Top gun AU with Kon as Maverick and Tim as Iceman. 

Boostle:

17. And I’d Make A Deal With God

Booster Gold grieves over Ted in their shared apartment.

JayKyle:

18. Fire of Unknown Origin

A Bioshock au. Jason and Kyle are trapped down in Rapture. Separately, they both figure out that someone is acting as 'Atlas', a freedom fighter who is supposed to be long dead. After a chance meeting, they decide to work together to figure out what the hell is going on.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3rWWOrT7LDGM0wggI9Zl9D?si=43ce8e0a98a8463e

19.  New Wave Starhunters

A Cowboy Bebop AU. Both Jason and Kyle were cryogenically frozen after two separate accidents years apart. Kyle loses all his memories when he wakes up. Jason remembers, but it has been long enough that everyone he's ever known and loved is dead. They both end up as bounty hunters, and this is their story.

HalBarry:

20. Fleeting Touch 

Hal's a ghost stuck in the apartment he used to live in. Barry moved into his new apartment two weeks ago. Can I make it anymore obvious?

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6kM0uBYmqeVAEW7VCQwsHO?si=edb27b2977a14853

21. It's Gettin Hard, this Holdin' back

Just a fluff piece where Barry notices how often Hal touches him, and starts to become hyperware of it because he has a crush on Hal.

22. In the Cracks Beneath Our Feet 

 A Pacific Rim au set in the early days where Jagars where piloted by one pilot. Hal witnesses the destruction of Coast City by Cyborg Superman, but the whole thing is covered up by the board of directors. Hal lashes out at the, and as a result he is put on increasing dangerous missions to get rid of him. They also get Barry (who figured out the one person system is severely harming pilots but isn’t allowed to go public with the findings) to monitor his health and to attempt to ‘spy’ on him. They both ending up slowly realizing the other also hates the Shatterdome and try to fight the corruption of the place. 

23. Wasted Sunset, Forlorn Sunrise [Complete!] A 'the summer hikaru died' au. Hal as Yoshiki, and Barry as Hikaru. Worked on this for the HalBarry Big Bang 2023 in collaboration with @chocolateteapotsvis ! You can see the accompanying art here.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1pB2LnhyaO6bAYAIloLVVr?si=0723f6ab9caa4741

Bonus [Complete]: And One Day Closer to Death Fic I worked on for the Superboy Superzine. It's late at night. Kon contemplates.

Jujutsu Kaisen:

24. AFTER HOURS

Museum au - gojo is a new museum curator (for art pieces) and geto is the ghost that haunts it (with no memories of the past).

25. At the Tip of Your Tongue, In the Back of Your Lungs

Second person Gojo POV, following the timeline from when Gojo and Geto meet for the first time till the end of the Jujutsu Kaisen 0 movie.

26. An Endless Sea

A SatoSugu Pacific Rim Au. Also set in a time before the two pilot drift technology was developed. They’re the greatest pilots in the world until Riko and tengen’s mission where they had to protect Riko goes wrong. Gojo becomes even more stronger with his Jager after the mission, but Geto seems to find his limit and has to have a specific number of missions he can go per day. Geto centric.

27. Jujutsu Textin’ (Posted, but still updating)

A modern day twitter fic where most of the characters are in college.

Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure:

28. La Ciruela

It’s late at night, yet both Caesar and Joseph are here on this balcony outside. Joseph hides his heart well. Caesar pines.

29. You Gonna Do Something Killer?

....this is so embarrassing I can’t believe I’m adding it in. Caejose smut fic based on that tequila joseph tiktok and art. Joseph bets that he can seduce Caesar. Caesar- very stupidly, and already in love with Jojo - agrees to it.

30. Distant Dreams, Distant Hearts

Kujo family dynamics (Holly-Jotaro, Jotaro-Jolyne) centric fic with a focus on cards.

31.  Before My Body Is Dry (working title)

A Spiderverse au with a twist, with Jolyne as Miles and Jotaro as Jefferson Davis. 

Miscellaneous: 

32. Red Heaven, White Hell

A Daredevil exploration fic based on colours: red blood, red fights, red justice – white hospital, white crimes, white grief.

33. Time Wounds All the Heals (working title)

An Alex Rider (show) fic. A timeloop story where Alex keeps returning back in time, usually after he finds out Ian dies. Card games will be definitely used as some sort of metaphor.

34. The Oddball Blues

A comedy/ romance Giant Killing fic centered around Tsubaki and Kubota’s spare time in Abu Dhabi.

35. Biohazards, Ballistics, and Global Political Tension: An investigation into the impact of bio-organic weapons on modern society (Posted, but still updating)

Collab with @fangirl-on-fire3 ! A collection of accounts about different events in the resident evil universe in the format of a draft of a PhD report.