Log; Complete

[oneeyedbeast.livejournal.com]

When; January 30th/31st (Very late at night/early morning)
Rating; R for violence
Characters; Sakata Gintoki (ginironosora) and Takasugi Shinsuke (oneeyedbeast)
Summary; Gintoki and Takasugi have yet another fight, one that ends in tragedy.
Log;

The night was beginning to fall, some of the chaos from the attack fading even as the city continued to react in interesting ways. It had been effective, their message emblazoned across the clouds with fire, enough that Takasui's heart still roared and pounded as he sat with his back against the tree. He'd been hiding on the outskirts of the forest for some time now, far enough away from where Ophelia would potentially be, though the smell of blood might reach her soon if the outcome of the fight would be just as Gintoki's words suggested.

He waited still, sword lying across his thigh and his pipe between his lips. In his mind, he could still hear the sounds of the explosions going off, a lovely staccato that would echo and please the beast that lay within him whenever he remembered. It roared in response, and his lips pulled back as his teeth closed around the wood of his pipe, breathing in a heavy drag. The fumes that were released dissipitated quickly in the cool air, and he waited still, listening for the sound of footfalls, occasionally lulled into partial slumber by the noise and movement of creatures around him.

It would soon be time.

The cover of nightfall allowed him to slip away fairly-unnoticed, heading towards the edge of the forest. His sword was sheathed, clanking with every step he took just faintly. Gintoki was in no particular hurry for this battle, but his soul was hungry for it, urging him to walk faster, draw the blade, and take a life that couldn't be taken anymore. Drench the blade in blood and fill the large cavernous hunger it wanted satiated.

Gintoki was a man that knew what had to be done, what his place in life was, and what his purpose was. And as he quietly approached the outskirts of the forest, remnants of snow creaking under his boots, his blood began to rush in his ears again, the adrenaline flow making his fingers itch for the hilt of the sword.

The white beast inside of him grinned restlessly, waiting.

Takasugi heard him before he saw him, well aware that Gintoki was out of practice. His steps had changed since the war, careless and hardly indiscreet. Either that or the Shiroyasha wasn't putting any effort at all into masking his presence. It was almost if he wanted Takasugi to know immediately that he was coming for him and to be ready.

Wrapping fingers around his sword, there was no more time wasted, the blade drown out and the length of silver glinting beneath the moonlight. It would be stained with Gintoki's blood before the night was over, and that was enough to prompt Takasugi to charge towards Gintoki, his speed alarmingly vicious.

"Shiroyasha," he hissed, lips quirking the moment the name tumbled out of his mouth.

The sword was flipped with a jerk of the arm it balanced against, and the sheath was quick to get thrown carelessly to the side as Gintoki freed the blade, bracing it with his left forearm to block the attack. The corners of his lips curled as he gave a harsh grin, brows furrowed. The pounding in his ears wasn't the rushing blood or even his own pulse-- he was sure it was the beast's heartbeat.

It seemed like a red gauze was trying to wrap around his brain, tainting the edges of his reality, making him heady off everything around him-- the scents, the sounds, the blue-hued, muted colors around him seeming to brighten. The moonlight's glint off the metal was blinding.

And he broke away from the stalemate, using a sudden application of force to scrape his sword down the other's as he growled, "Takasugi, this will end tonight!"

Those words –he'd never thought he'd hear them from Gintoki's mouth. They'd fought before, but that time, Gintoki hadn't come towards him with the same murderous intent that now filled his eyes. Even in the moonlight, they looked crimson with the promise of carnage, and Takasugi's grin widened, the thrill clamping around his body as the adrenaline surged through him. Using what momentum he could, he pushed Gintoki back far enough to widen the space between him, aiming for another attack.

"Even if you kill me," he murmured, hands clutched around his sword as he circled Gintoki, looking for an opening, "my message will live on. An idea is immortal even if the body is subject to death. Those who greedily thirst on destruction will rise up after me to finish the job."

He struck quickly again without warning, sword coming downwards over Gintoki's head, every intention to slice through him. Only one of them would walk away from this fight, and he wasn't about to roll over and allow himself to be killed by someone who had long since been de-clawed.

Gintoki's speed still hadn't slowed since the war, bringing the sword up and angling it just right so as not to chip. Then he used a powerful sweeping arc to dislodge Takasugi's blade, his grin growing more feral by the second. With each metallic clang, with every shuffled step, his excitement increased.

Gintoki's foot slid easily in the snow, intending to trip Takasugi up and pulling his sword back, ready to plunge it into the other man's stomach. This was all too reminiscent of the war; skies dark with smoke from explosions and fires, everything muted to monochromes and the red the only color that really showed. Red, and the deep emerald of Takasugi's eyes, the sparkling sapphire of Sakamoto's, the warm hazel of Zura's-- the only colors he could remember. It seemed like that tonight, as well.

Barely evading the blow, Takasugi managed to catch the blade with his own sword and block it away before driving his sword hard into Gintoki's shoulder just as he had done before. He felt the tip sink into flesh and drove it in deeper, gritting his teeth as he used all the strength in his body to pin Gintoki against a tree.

The blood flowed between them, staining Gintoki's white yukata and dripping in between the folds of Takasugi's own yukata as he twisted the blade in an agonizing manner. The scent alone awoke the beast inside of him fully, and he could feel its cage torn apart, manifesting fully the more the fight progressed.

Gintoki grunted, growling as the blade was twisted and the pain shot all through his chest, but he barely felt it. The adrenaline pumping through him masked it well, and the silver-haired samurai's next move was simple.

While Takasugi was close, he let the sword hilt slack in his hand to get a better grip, then thrusted it up into Shinsuke's stomach with ungodly speed, the blade sinking in with ease, the thin layer of muscle barely having resisted. The angle was vicious, going almost straight up, puncturing the left lung, and out the back between his ribs, a squelching rasp as he, too, twisted the blade, and it scraped against bone.

The blood had barely begun to run over his knuckles when he realized what he'd done, and the red haze seemed to dissipate in its entirety. Mahogany eyes widened, and his hands began to tremble. "Taka... sugi..."

Takasugi's one eye shot open wide as the pain ripped through him, the intensity of it almost unbearable. The edges of his vision blurred instantly, water filling his eye ball reflexively as he gazed at Gintoki with pure shock because he never thought that Gintoki had it in him. The Shiroyasha had long since abandoned his sword, putting it away to live a life of complete mediocrity, and here he was, standing in front of him just as dangerous and powerful as the man he knew on the battle field.

There was no other way to react than with pure shock as the pain continued to move along his center, searing over his insides, and he could feel the blood dribbling down his thighs and pooling between them rapidly. No other death he'd experience in the city had been so meaningful as this one because this was the Shiroyasha -the man he'd shared his childhood with. The man he'd fought next to countless times before. The man he'd once called a comrade and meant it.

He'd also been one of the few that had betrayed him the most by stepping off the battle field without looking back in return and leaving Takasugi behind to fulfill his teacher's goals himself. The anger and the hurt never ceased to haunt him, feeding his desire for revenge even more until he'd become a monster, completely obsessed with destruction.

"Gin…toki," he rasped out in return, his fingers slipping from the sword he'd been clutching, and his body shook as it racked with heavy coughs, blood suddenly spraying from his lips onto Gintoki's face.

Gintoki's expression was horrified, one hand absently coming up to pull the sword free from his shoulder, tearing the tissue further without his notice, and he dropped it to the ground. He pulled the sword from Takasugi next, even if it made him bleed more, and took a firm hold on his biceps to support him. The blood that splattered the side of his face didn't faze him-- what worried him more was the amount of blood spilling from both sides of the stab wound, the shakiness of the other's voice, and the way he trembled in his arms.

"Takasugi.... Takasugi!" He lowered to his knees, the pain in his shoulder beginning to throb, and he held his fallen comrade close. "Why... why can't you change?! Why can't you accept what happened... and move on? I loved Shoyou-sensei too, more than anything! And his death hurt so much, for so long, but... to do these things and claim them in his name...."

Tears fell down his cheeks, washing the blood off in small amounts, dripping onto Takasugi's face. "...I don't understand... I know it hurts! But I don't… understand."

The pain still swam through him, making Takasugi feel both dizzy and strangely light as he collapsed against Gintoki's chest. One hand came to clutch his own wound, fingers pressing against it to verify it was truly there, slowly accepting the reality of his own death at the hands of the Shiroyasha.

"You …," he began again, voice weakened from the wound, the force of talking emitting more blinding pain that made his body quiver hard as he hacked up blood again, "…you and I …can't exist in the same world… I'll never change…I'll never stop fighting…I loved him… most of all."

He closed his eye and just rested against Gintoki's shoulder, feeling death start to wrap its comforting fingers around him and lure him away from the disgusting world he vowed to destroy.

Gintoki hugged him tight, trembling. He wanted to apologize; just say he was sorry. Sorry for what? Everything. He was sorry about everything, but he knew Takasugi would just laugh at him. What would he want? More than anything in the world, after Shoyou-sensei and destruction?

Gintoki could almost feel Takasugi's pseudo-life slipping through his fingers as he pondered, thinking as quickly as he could. Maybe... maybe he wanted to go home. He'd never been a man to care for material goods, but... wasn't that something everyone in the City wanted? One hand fell to his side and felt around on the ground, grabbing his abandoned sword and hastily shoving it through the sash around his waist, unsheathed.

As carefully as he could, he slipped his arms under Takasugi's legs and stood, heaving the smaller man up into his arms, and began to leave the outskirts, heading back into town. He hoped he wouldn't be too late.

Takasugi's head rolled towards his chest, unable to summon the strength to fight the arms supporting him or to even protest his sword being removed. His life was already quickly tumbling away, finding it more and more difficult to continue to breathe. The first two instances in which he'd died, his death had been dealt rapidly, too pleasantly quick for him to dwell on it.

This time, there was still enough consciousness in him to think and to feel it slowly plucked from him. His body shuddered just a bit more, and he kept his eyes shut, unwilling to see Gintoki looking down at him with such a pitiful expression. He sincerely hoped this haunted the other man for several nights to come, that every time he closed his eyes, he remembered sinking that blade into his stomach and the sickening sound as it twisted.

"…finish it… don't let me …die slowly," he whispered, tone on the edge of desperation as the pain continued to numb his body.

"No, I want you to see something." The tears wouldn't stop, but Gintoki looked ahead, regaining his balance when he stumbled, his head feeling heavy and his eyesight getting blurry. Was he losing too much blood, too? When he looked down to see, he couldn't tell whose was whose.

In the end, blood was always the same color, wasn't it? And hadn't they made a blood brother pact in school? They'd cut their palms with the same fruit knife and rubbed the wounds against one another's, murmuring some childish rhyme they'd made up to go along with it, blaming their prickling eyes on the bright sun. So in a way, it was both of their blood, no matter who it poured from.

It was dark out-- the moonlit streets empty, strangely comforting after all was said and done. He lowered to his knees as he got to the fountain, breathing heavy, and he sat Takasugi down, supporting him as steadily as he could. "I heard this... fountain has... the ability to... peer into our world…"

He'd never tried it himself, really, but as he looked into the dark water, still panting, it looked like normal water. "..Tell me, Takasugi... What do you... see?"

There it was in front of him, the place he'd never thought he'd refer to as home again, yet looking down upon it, Takasugi couldn't think of another word to call it. Edo was still the same as he'd left it –polluted with aliens that continued to enforce their laws and technology on them. It reminded him of his ambition, and he clung tightly and stubbornly to it even in death.

One hand, quivering and pale, reached out, using the last of his strength to touch the water, wanting to be there again. He dipped it in deeper, imagining he was in Edo, close to where Shoyou-sensei had died. It was easier to focus on his old teacher, the man looking down at him and smiling as he always did. He had the warmest smile, and Takasugi wanted more than anything –even more than his ambition- to see it cast upon him again. Unfortunately, the only one that ever came close to reflecting that man was…

"…Gintoki…" he said out loud, tasting the name before smiling ironically. It was the last thought his mind had before his body gave out fully, dropping lifelessly over the edge of the fountain.

"Ah..!" Gintoki managed to catch the limp body before he fell into the Fountain, eyes closing sadly. He pulled him back to his chest, knowing he was gone again then pounded a fist on the cement, scraping up the right side of it as he clenched his teeth. Why couldn't things just be like before?!

For the first time in a long, long time, he began to resent the Amanto with pure unadultured hatred. If they'd never come...

If they'd never come, things might've been normal. Shoyou-sensei might've still been around, and Takasugi might've been.... happy. But he thought, if he had the choice to go back and choose a different life, a different path...

He wouldn't do it. To forfeit all the friends he'd made and lost, the feelings he'd learned the hard way, all his life experience, the joy and the sorrow, life and death, color and darkness. Everything he'd fought to protect, what he'd managed to protect, all of it. He couldn't let it slip through his fingers.

Maybe it'd be best to stay there for a while. The police should be around, right? He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand up again, and even though it was Takasugi... Even though it was him, Gintoki couldn't leave his side again, not like that. The sword bit into his thigh as he situated himself on the ground, Takasugi laid out next to him, his head lolled to the side on his leg. His eyelids drooped heavily, a welcome relief to his stinging eyes, but then he straightened and shook his head, trying to stay awake.

And he looked up to the sky, stars dotted here and there-- but it wasn't the same as home, not at all. He couldn't find any of the same constellations, and they were just far too dim.