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On some nights, Gintoki just knew he wouldn't be able to get any shut-eye in.
His room was so, so quiet. Too quiet.
Whenever he wasn't able to hear Sadaharu's snoring, or Kagura’s muttering in her sleep, or the drunk singing coming from the bar outside... something was just off. With his mind having nothing to focus onto, other than the merciless silence, his thoughts would become loud, too loud, like a swarm of angry wasps stabbing at his conscience. All he could do at nights like these was stare at the ceiling, restless and unable to sleep, and wait for the morning to come, with the worry in his guts growing with intensity with each second. And he knew why.
Because the war was never quiet.
The silence would be filled with cries of the soldiers, clashing of swords and loud shouting, coming from both enemies and allies. At nights, the quiet would be filled with laughing of drunk comrades, loud snoring, or the sound of cicadas slipping in from outside. Even while in hiding - the anxious breathing of his friends, or the soft rustling of leaves.
Never quiet, not like this.
The war was never quiet, not until something was very, very wrong, not until everyone was dead, battlefield filled with drying blood and corpses, his sword never reaching in time to protect them, no matter how many enemies he had slashed and killed.
How many innocent lives were lost to his blade? Amanto like Kagura, with their own lives, homes and families to come back to. How many corpses did they have to bury and burn, leaving the piles of unnamed ashes behind them in haste?
The air in the room suddenly felt stuffy. He felt like one of these burned corpses, alone and forgotten, in the murkiness of the room. Too hot. Yet Gin could find himself shaking slightly.
He wondered if the ones he failed to protect would follow him to the afterlife.
Would they seek revenge, seeing that the mighty and powerful Shiroyasha couldn't protect even a single human soul?
The darkness in his room felt too deep, like a thick black mass trying to strangle him.
He suddenly felt watched.
He bolted upright from his futon, looking around with wide eyes.
Of course nobody was there.
But it was so eerily silent. Unnatural. He could swear something was lurking in that dark room just a moment ago, observing him. But he also knew that it couldn't be true. There was nothing there.
After all, the dead don't talk.
Don't exist.
Unless...
The glint of the eyes flashed in the darkness. Gintoki almost screamed. It was fake. Definitely. Too hot. He needed air. Outside. He needed to go outside.
He jumped and fled to the veranda, sliding the door open in a haste and crouching down on the wooden floor outside. It was fake. Fake. Nobody was there, just his wicked imagination and fried nerves. Old habits kicking in, he hugged his bokuto tightly like a lifeline, squeezing his eyes shut. Just like he used to during his younger days, he could feel a somewhat fleeting feeling of safety that the sword against his shoulder brought, the wooden texture so foreign, yet so familiar.
The night was utterly cold. At this point, Gin wasn't sure if he was shaking from the nerves or the temperature, but he could see the faint fog forming with his every panicked breath. He wasn't crazy; no ghost or anything like that would show up with revenge after 10 years, he knew he imagined these eyes in the darkness just now. He had hoped that the frigid air would help him clear his head, but it didn't seem likely. He tried to focus on the snow falling gently in front of him, just so he could finally relax and go back to sleep in the warmth of the yorozuya office,to wake up to Shinpachi’s nagging voice in the morning and Kagura’s drowsy complaints of hunger, just like every day. Snowflake after snowflake, in the dim light of the street lamp. But the anxiety was still clawing at his chest, not letting go. No. He did not want to think about the past. Why was the war still getting to him after so many years? He should have been stronger than that. Breathing was becoming harder and harder. All he could muster were short, gasping breaths that could barely fill his lungs with oxygen.
Where even was he?
What was he doing here?
Why was he looking at the snowflakes like a moron when the enemy could show up any minute now?
He needed to focus. Stay alert. Don't let any amanto come close.
This time, keep everyone safe.
A noise on his left.
A giant white shape showed up in his peripheral vision. He jumped into action immediately with a snarl, sword at the neck of the lone amanto who dared to come this close to the camp. But the familiar whine he heard made him stop immediately, and he blinked.
It was just Sadaharu.
He slowly lowered his sword with shaky hands, still unsure if he were to trust his eyes completely. Blinked once. Twice. Sighed heavily. Just their giant, white dog, looking at him pointedly.
“What are you doing here, you mutt?” he whispered, and feeling his trembling legs giving up under him, he slithered down the wall back to the ground. He hid his head in his arms. He was such a mess.
He had almost hurt Kagura's pet. Their yorozuya companion.
His friend.
Gin just laughed bitterly. He could hear the paw pads against the wooden floor, unsure and careful, slowly coming closer. But no, Gin did not deserve company after what had just occurred. He raised his head slightly, meeting with the black eyes of the Inugami, who was sniffing intensely in his direction, like the dog wanted to sniff out whatever was wrong with a screwup like him.
“It's cold out, you should go back to Kagura's stuffy closet. I'm sure she misses your stinky breath under her nose right now.” Gin muttered, and pushed the dog away gently back, towards the door.
But it seemed like Sadaharu learned a thing or two from his master and would not listen to others when he had another idea on the subject. Simply ignoring the attempts at being chased off, the dog laid down next to Gin with a stubborn huff, laying his head in his owner's lap unperturbed and closing his eyes contently. Gin flinched slightly at the touch, but quickly gave in, the warmth of another body immediately making him feel more at ease. He dived his hand into the thick fur, the soft texture under his skin grounding him into reality.
It felt... nice.
They spent a while like this, a shaking figure of a master and his giant dog, alone on winter night. Pet after pet, Gin could feel the stress slowly leaving his body.
“Looks like you are good at something other than being a giant poop machine, huh” he whispered, allowing himself a slight smile while scratching the dog's ear, finally feeling relaxed.
He was ready to go back inside now, but the mutt seemed to have fallen asleep in his lap. Gin groaned. Moving that heavy flea bag would be too much of a hassle right now, huh. In the end, he curled and rested his head on the dog's body. Yeah, he would definitely catch a cold in the morning if he stayed outside for the rest of the night like that. Great. Totally worth it.
Yet feeling safe from that soft and warm fur beneath him, Gin was quick to fall into a deep and peaceful sleep as well.