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31_days2012-06-28 10:07 am
ansibs.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-06-28 10:07 am
[June 27th] [Gintama] the chain that snaps
Title: the chain that snaps
Day/Theme: June 27th - the chain that snaps
Series: Gintama
Character/Pairing: Gintoki x Katsura
Rating: PG
27. the chain that snaps
"But it's over," Sakamoto said. His glasses were off because they were currently situated inside another dingy, half-rotten warehouse that had no light except from the fire that was rapidly gutting out. "There's nothing you can do." The ever-present smile had dropped, along with his cavalier attitude.
"And what would we do," Shins - no, Takasugi - didn't look up from where his eyes were fixed on the glowing embers of their makeshift heater. "Give ourselves up?"
"I wouldn't dare presume such an indignity for one such as you," Sakamoto bit back, his face all the sweeter for the humorless grin that spread slowly from ear to ear. It was an ugly, heated sight.
This time Takasugi met his eye. "Smuggler," he deadpanned, "you take your fickle coward's talk elsewhere. Your so-called honor is as useful as a sieve in a typhoon."
"Enough," Katsura said, his voice little louder but commanding all the same. "Save it for the brutes we'll face outside tomorrow. I've rigged the whole area for kilometers around, so get to sleep already."
Takasugi's eyes flickered to his face, then back to the fire. After a minute he got up in his dashing Western coat and all, katana clinking on his hip, and settled behind some shelves on a stack of burlap bags filled with sawdust. Sakamoto gave him a much friendlier "Good night" and moved soundlessly through the dark logs of bodies towards the entirely opposite end of their temporary headquarters, finally disappearing behind what's left of their artillery. Now, that only left Gintoki.
Gintoki was outside, keeping watch. He liked to keep watch though everyone in the platoon had, at one point or another, thought they'd never get this far if it wasn't for the Shiroyasha's sword skills, his innate ferocity. They were all quite oblivious to the fact there was nothing Gintoki liked more than sweets and the smell of sensei's soap, and maybe Katsura curling his impossible hair around and around his fingers too. He liked to nap, he liked lazy days where the clouds flitted by so slowly, before he'd become steel and fire and a chain set to snap from all the danger, the blood, the drowning of the boy Katsura had once thought he might call home.
Alert was not a state of mind that anyone could keep up day and night, but they'd all learned how to more or less. Gintoki more than the others, some of which were old men who thought they were boys, others boys who thought they were old men. He never left first watch to anyone else; he digested his meager dinner by the sight of the moon, a hanging scrimitar in the sky. That was where Katsura found him too, on the part of the roof that hadn't collapsed yet.
"It's already midnight," Katsura said. They lay somewhat closer together, now that they didn't have an audience. Gintoki's bracers shone dimly; Katsura's fingers followed them down until they tangled with Gintoki's own. The so-called Demon pulsed warmly in the cool darkness.
"Zura, do you remember that time Shinsuke shook that raccoon out of the tree? We kept it locked in the scroll room and took turns sneaking food out to feed it."
"It's Katsura," he corrected absently. The remembrance brought a smile to his face, but it quickly faded when he remembered Takasugi sleeping downstairs, the patch over his eye, the cold sneer he'd mastered as he realized the promotions they gave him were only empty shells. "Gintoki, about tomorrow -"
"It scratched me right here." Gintoki lifted their clasped hands, and Katsura could feel his blood beat hot and cold at the words. "It bit me too. But we tried really hard to take care of it, didn't we?"
"Gintoki," he tried again. "We have to really give it a push tomorrow, so do you think you could sleep now?"
Gintoki was silent for a moment. And then, quieter: "When he found out, he set it loose again."
Katsura sat up, hands untangling. "That's what this is all about," he said, looking straight at his companion. "This is for him. For what he believed. For what he wanted for us!" This is all that binds you to me - sensei's goodness.
Those lazy eyes only blinked at his outburst, unmoving on the silver tiles. He didn't say anything in return. He only faced the moon again, away from Katsura, whose hand felt very cold now that Gintoki wasn't holding onto it anymore.
"You sleep, Zura," came the answer, finally. "I'll stay up a little longer, and wake Sakamoto for his turn." Katsura didn't need to consult the schedule to know Sakamoto was set for the watch right before morning call.
"I'll stay too," he said stubbornly, but Gintoki only shook his head from side to side. His face was so resigned Katsura wanted to slap it. What had happened to the man who'd clasped his shoulders and swore the same oaths? What had happened to the demon on the field, with his roar of defiance, that sword that glimmered death under the iron sky?
"Go," and one hand clutched Katsura on the shoulder briefly before Gintoki softened, expression relaxing. "Rest. Ready yourself for tomorrow."
I love you made him lean down and kiss him. Gintoki made a drowsy, satisfied noise when they parted. But in those eyes Katsura saw less and less of what brought them this far, and more and more of that alien absentness. As if Gintoki was just going through the motions of hurting, hating, loving, relaxing without any notion to honor or country or human bonds.
When did it happen? was the last thought that ran through his mind before he slept. How did it come to this?
He dreamed of black fur, feral eyes and the yelp of a child who nursed his bloody hand. And he woke with a smile.
Day/Theme: June 27th - the chain that snaps
Series: Gintama
Character/Pairing: Gintoki x Katsura
Rating: PG
27. the chain that snaps
"But it's over," Sakamoto said. His glasses were off because they were currently situated inside another dingy, half-rotten warehouse that had no light except from the fire that was rapidly gutting out. "There's nothing you can do." The ever-present smile had dropped, along with his cavalier attitude.
"And what would we do," Shins - no, Takasugi - didn't look up from where his eyes were fixed on the glowing embers of their makeshift heater. "Give ourselves up?"
"I wouldn't dare presume such an indignity for one such as you," Sakamoto bit back, his face all the sweeter for the humorless grin that spread slowly from ear to ear. It was an ugly, heated sight.
This time Takasugi met his eye. "Smuggler," he deadpanned, "you take your fickle coward's talk elsewhere. Your so-called honor is as useful as a sieve in a typhoon."
"Enough," Katsura said, his voice little louder but commanding all the same. "Save it for the brutes we'll face outside tomorrow. I've rigged the whole area for kilometers around, so get to sleep already."
Takasugi's eyes flickered to his face, then back to the fire. After a minute he got up in his dashing Western coat and all, katana clinking on his hip, and settled behind some shelves on a stack of burlap bags filled with sawdust. Sakamoto gave him a much friendlier "Good night" and moved soundlessly through the dark logs of bodies towards the entirely opposite end of their temporary headquarters, finally disappearing behind what's left of their artillery. Now, that only left Gintoki.
Gintoki was outside, keeping watch. He liked to keep watch though everyone in the platoon had, at one point or another, thought they'd never get this far if it wasn't for the Shiroyasha's sword skills, his innate ferocity. They were all quite oblivious to the fact there was nothing Gintoki liked more than sweets and the smell of sensei's soap, and maybe Katsura curling his impossible hair around and around his fingers too. He liked to nap, he liked lazy days where the clouds flitted by so slowly, before he'd become steel and fire and a chain set to snap from all the danger, the blood, the drowning of the boy Katsura had once thought he might call home.
Alert was not a state of mind that anyone could keep up day and night, but they'd all learned how to more or less. Gintoki more than the others, some of which were old men who thought they were boys, others boys who thought they were old men. He never left first watch to anyone else; he digested his meager dinner by the sight of the moon, a hanging scrimitar in the sky. That was where Katsura found him too, on the part of the roof that hadn't collapsed yet.
"It's already midnight," Katsura said. They lay somewhat closer together, now that they didn't have an audience. Gintoki's bracers shone dimly; Katsura's fingers followed them down until they tangled with Gintoki's own. The so-called Demon pulsed warmly in the cool darkness.
"Zura, do you remember that time Shinsuke shook that raccoon out of the tree? We kept it locked in the scroll room and took turns sneaking food out to feed it."
"It's Katsura," he corrected absently. The remembrance brought a smile to his face, but it quickly faded when he remembered Takasugi sleeping downstairs, the patch over his eye, the cold sneer he'd mastered as he realized the promotions they gave him were only empty shells. "Gintoki, about tomorrow -"
"It scratched me right here." Gintoki lifted their clasped hands, and Katsura could feel his blood beat hot and cold at the words. "It bit me too. But we tried really hard to take care of it, didn't we?"
"Gintoki," he tried again. "We have to really give it a push tomorrow, so do you think you could sleep now?"
Gintoki was silent for a moment. And then, quieter: "When he found out, he set it loose again."
Katsura sat up, hands untangling. "That's what this is all about," he said, looking straight at his companion. "This is for him. For what he believed. For what he wanted for us!" This is all that binds you to me - sensei's goodness.
Those lazy eyes only blinked at his outburst, unmoving on the silver tiles. He didn't say anything in return. He only faced the moon again, away from Katsura, whose hand felt very cold now that Gintoki wasn't holding onto it anymore.
"You sleep, Zura," came the answer, finally. "I'll stay up a little longer, and wake Sakamoto for his turn." Katsura didn't need to consult the schedule to know Sakamoto was set for the watch right before morning call.
"I'll stay too," he said stubbornly, but Gintoki only shook his head from side to side. His face was so resigned Katsura wanted to slap it. What had happened to the man who'd clasped his shoulders and swore the same oaths? What had happened to the demon on the field, with his roar of defiance, that sword that glimmered death under the iron sky?
"Go," and one hand clutched Katsura on the shoulder briefly before Gintoki softened, expression relaxing. "Rest. Ready yourself for tomorrow."
I love you made him lean down and kiss him. Gintoki made a drowsy, satisfied noise when they parted. But in those eyes Katsura saw less and less of what brought them this far, and more and more of that alien absentness. As if Gintoki was just going through the motions of hurting, hating, loving, relaxing without any notion to honor or country or human bonds.
When did it happen? was the last thought that ran through his mind before he slept. How did it come to this?
He dreamed of black fur, feral eyes and the yelp of a child who nursed his bloody hand. And he woke with a smile.