Author's Notes: In a really annoying move, this site has disabled copy and paste. I know a lot of my readers have depended on copy and paste to look up words/read in an easier format/write reviews.

The site has promised that authors will get the option to turn off the c&p protection in the future, which I will do ASAP. However, if you want to do something about it now, google nocopy, and there are solutions for disabling this in your browser.

The Story so far: The Joui trio won a battle against the Amanto, and Takasugi's eye was slashed by the mysterious Amanto's sword. In the current timeline, Nishiko and Katsura have shaken the Shinsengumi and are hanging out in the bakery of one of Katsura's Joui patriots.

"My keeping company with you is not just for practice in reading, but so that you can realize great plans for the nation." - Yoshida Shoin, writing to Takasugi Shinsaku

Chapter Nineteen: Wake from Death and Return to Life

1867 – Edo:

The wife of Katsura's Joui patriot baker had come to Nishiko's rescue, providing her with a pink cotton yukata with a pattern of white flowers along the hems to replace Katsura's eye-catching disguise. She dressed quickly, but once she was done, she stood listlessly at the window for a while, debating whether she should climb out and make her way home by herself.

That wouldn't even work, she concluded. Katsura was an expert urban navigator and she didn't know this district of Edo very well. If she tried escaping, she'd get lost and Katsura would find her. She would have to see this confrontation through to the bitter end.

It doesn't matter what he says, she lectured herself sternly as she pinned up her hair. Your loyalty isn't up for grabs.

She tried to fix Shinsuke's face in her memory. Not the triumphant grin he'd sometimes wear when he'd scored a victory against the odds, or the frown that darkened his brow in the face of defeat. But the pale, drawn face of a man suffering.

Then she went downstairs to find Katsura. He was in the back room, showing the baker the small card the Shinsengumi captain had given him. The baker's wife was busy kneading dough.

"According to this card, this is the address to which we should address letters of complaint about the Shinsengumi Vice-Commander," Katsura was saying.

"One of the Shinsengumi captains gave it to you?" the baker asked, suspicion evident in his tone. "Are you sure this isn't a trap, Katsura-san?"

"We'll use our patriot pen-names, of course, Endo-san."

Nishiko decided not to wait for Katsura to notice her. "Katsura-san, I'm here."

He turned to face her. "It's time to lay all our cards on the table, Nishiko-dono," he said gravely. "No matter how much it hurts. Even the Draw Fours."

1861 - Outside Yodo Castle:

The whole world had fallen into silence.

If she focused carefully, she could hear soft muttered conversations, even the groans of the injured and the dying. But the war had receded from around them for this moment. The shouts and explosions, the clanging of sword against sword, all these had died away. The Joui soldiers were preparing to leave the burning ruins of Yodo Castle behind them.

One of the soldiers had brought Nishiko a small medical kit: one of the field kits she'd designed and equipped during her stay in Osaka. This kit was almost empty, but there was some gauze padding and a bandage roll which she grabbed to bandage up Takasugi's face. The blood masked the extent of the wound there, but she could see that he'd been slashed right across his left eye.

Gintoki gently held up Takasugi's head for her while she wrapped the bandage around his head. Takasugi didn't stir, but he was breathing regularly. She still had no idea what sort of wounds she'd find on his body. Gintoki's haori was doing a good job of staunching the blood and it was no time to remove it.

"Are we going to take him to the shuttle now?" she asked as she tied up the ends of the bandage.

"The shuttle's gone," Gintoki replied tonelessly. "The Amanto took it."

"My medical supplies were in there!"

"I saw it taking off when we attacked. It's gone."

The defibrillator, the ventilator, her supply of painkillers . . . Even the lacquer hair ornaments she'd carried from her old life. Everything she owned was on that shuttle.

Everything except the dagger Takasugi had given her.

"Tell me what I'll find under there." She gestured to Gintoki's haori.

"The Amanto cut him, like this," He drew his right hand across Takasugi's abdomen. "It's not so deep a wound. He's going to be okay." He said those last words fiercely, as though daring her to contradict him.

She nodded dumbly instead.

"Shiroyasha-san, we're bringing up a cart to move Takasugi-san," one of the Kiheitai soldiers addressed Gintoki. "The road's clear to Fushimi, as far as we can tell. We think it'll be safer than taking him on the river."

"I'll be escorting him then," replied Gintoki. "Where's Katsura?"

"I haven't seen him," said the soldier. "We're still regrouping."

"What are our losses looking like so far?" Gintoki asked.

"Heavy. I've counted nineteen dead, but with all the missing and the wounded . . ."

The wounded. Her surroundings finally registered in her brain. No one had bothered her as she knelt by Takasugi's side, but she couldn't do anything for him right now. Gintoki was watching over him. She meanwhile had another duty to Takasugi. She needed to look after his men.

It wrenched her heart to leave his side but she stood up and went to attend to the other soldiers.

There was nothing she could do for most of them. The ordinary soldiers knew how to bandage a wound and on this battlefield there was no treatment beyond that. A few times she was asked to determine whether men were really dead, probably in the hope she could work a miracle. Likely they'd heard she'd raised a dead man in in Osaka and had waited hopefully for her to repeat her magic here. But the defibrillator, along with the rest of the modern medical equipment, was gone with the shuttle.

"They're bringing more bandages," one of the soldiers told her as she helped put a sling on a wounded arm.

"What about painkillers?"

"I don't think we have any."

"I sent painkillers with the troops when you left Osaka," she protested.

"We don't have any with us. We've searched all our supplies."

"We're going to move Takasugi-san over a bumpy road!"

"I'm sorry, Tanaka-san. I really am."

"All right." She took a deep breath. "Please keep asking. Someone must know what's happened to the supplies."

The soldier promised to do his best, but she could see the doubt written plain in his face.

"Nishiko-dono!" The familiar voice sounded welcomely in her ears.

"Katsura-san!" she wheeled around to spot him. "Katsura-san, are you all right?" A bloody gash disfigured his forehead. His face was as pale as a ghost's.

Katsura nodded. "I just . . . I'm all right," he said brokenly. "I saw Shinsuke. We're ready to move him, Nishiko-dono. Come along."

"What happened to your head?" she pressed as she followed after him.

"In that smoke, one of the soldiers mistook me for a real Bakufu soldier," he replied at last. "Don't worry about me. It's a small cut. But I didn't get to the roof in time . . ." He lapsed into silence.

She found a horse-drawn cart parked where she'd left Gintoki with Takasugi. Standing by the cart was Captain Murakami, the commander of the Kiheitai's first division, and now, she realized, the acting commander of the Kiheitai.

"Tanaka-san!" He waved to her. "You were asking about painkillers? I'm really sorry. Most of the supplies you packed are at the bottom of the river."

"What?"

"The boat carrying them was hit by enemy fire. The priority was to get the weapons off the boat before it sank. The other supplies were overlooked."

"This is exactly why I ordered the medical supplies to be spread out among units!" she protested.

Murakami held up his palms in a gesture of helplessness. "But that's not what happened. Tanaka-san, I promise we'll get you new supplies as soon as possible. Now, go look after Takasugi-san."

Katsura lifted her up over the side of the cart, then climbed in after her.

The floor of the cart was covered with empty rice sacks. These had been piled most thickly in one corner where Gintoki was crouching beside Takasugi. A few other injured men were sitting against the sides of the cart, including Miyamoto and Kimura. The latter was awake now, staring dazedly about him.

"Zura, take over for me here," Gintoki instructed. "I'm leading this expedition."

Katsura nodded and sat down beside Takasugi once Gintoki had climbed out of the cart. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled his comrade's body into his arms. "I'll cushion the bumps this way," he muttered.

Nishiko sat down across from them. She'd noticed that neither Gintoki nor Katsura had considered for one moment leaving this patient to the medic.

With a jolt, the cart began to move down the rough path that led out from the castle.

"Katsura-kun," Miyamoto spoke up suddenly. "That Amanto on the roof – you recognized him?"

Katsura didn't look up. "I recognized his clothing."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know who they are," Katsura answered. "They hide behind the Bakufu and hardly ever show themselves. But when they do show themselves . . . Have you ever heard talk of the Tendoshu?"

"Maybe. Some sort of Amanto organization?" asked Miyamoto.

"Yes, they're Amanto. I don't know where they're from or how they are connected to the different Amanto races. But they're powerful."

"Maybe we should have researched these Amanto a little better before we tried fighting them," said Miyamoto glumly.

"We're still winning," said Katsura sharply. "Gintoki and Shinsuke killed that Amanto."

Miyamoto didn't contradict him.

"- alone, Zura." Takasugi's voice suddenly filled the void. It was the first sign that he'd regained consciousness and Nishiko leaned forward to catch his words.

"Shinsuke, you've been hurt. Just lie still," Katsura told him.

"Why are you nursing me?"

"I'm keeping your head from being bashed into a pulp."

"You're too late. It already has been."

"We're almost to Fushimi, Shinsuke. Just hold on till we get there."

"Zura . . . no earthly reason why -" He let out a cry of pain as the cart hit a bump. Nishiko clenched her fist.

"Zura," he began again. "Where are my men?"

"They're heading to Fushimi too, Shinsuke. Don't worry. Murakami-san's taken command."

"But what happened to the men I sent to Yodo Castle yesterday?" Takasugi pressed.

Katsura looked up and met Nishiko's eyes in mute appeal. But what could she do?

"Zura, you went to find them!" cried Takasugi. "Tell me!"

"I was too late, Shinsuke. The Amanto killed them as soon as they were within the Castle," Katsura admitted.

"All of them?"

"All of your men, Shinsuke. Nishiko-dono's safe. She's right here beside us."

Takasugi tried to lift his head but Katsura restrained him. "Lie still. Nishiko-dono will patch you up properly once we get to Fushimi, okay?"

"Patch me up? With what? She's not a hospital surgeon."

Takasugi was absolutely right. There was pitifully little she could do, especially now that their supplies were lost.

"I'll do my best, Takasugi-san," she whispered.

If he heard her, he gave no sign of it. He'd fallen back into silence. Katsura continued to talk to Takasugi, murmuring hollow encouragements.

"-head's splitting, please shut up, Zura," Takasugi groaned.

They'd driven in silence for an agonizingly long time when there were shouts around them, and the cart ground to a halt.

"We're not at Fushimi already?" asked Katsura, puzzled. Nishiko climbed up and looked about. Their ragtag procession had stopped in the road. There was an inn not far ahead but the way was blocked by a couple of horsemen, one of whom was gesticulating wildly to Gintoki at the head of the line.

"Move out of the road or I'll cut you down!" snarled Gintoki. He already had his bloodied sword out.

The rider must have recognized Gintoki's determination, for he and his companion pulled back off the road. Gintoki nodded and motioned for the cart to start up again. Nishiko knelt down beside Zura, still peering over the side of the cart.

"We're nearly there. There were people in the road, but they've moved," she told Katsura.

The horsemen were deep in conversation with Gintoki as they passed.

She caught only a few words "- all the way from Kyoto" from one of the men.

When they stopped again, it was inside the gate of the inn Nishiko had noticed before. The courtyard was crowded with their own soldiers and a small group of men and women in civilian dress. These unhappy civilians were standing together in a tight knot, wariness etched in their expressions as they took in the scene.

Nishiko hopped nimbly down from the cart, leaving Katsura and the other soldiers to move Takasugi and the rest of the wounded men.

"Is the master of the house here?" she addressed the civilians.

One of the men gave her a small bow. "I'm the master of this establishment, Sugiyama Hajime. How may I serve you?"

"My name's Tanaka Nishiko. I'm setting up a surgery here. Do you have a sturdy worktable which will support a man's weight?"

"We have one of those Amanto writing desks," the man replied. "For Amanto guests before the war," he added in a lower tone, as though he thought the Jouishishi might punish him for having anything to do with Amanto.

"I'll come take a look at it. Now I need you to bring out all the bedding you have to a big room. That's where we'll put our wounded men. And start boiling water. We're going to need a lot of it for cleaning wounds. Hot water and soap. Bring any towels or rags you have to the kitchen."

She headed for the door of the inn, then realized that her audience was still standing there uncertainly. "Sugiyama-san, you're with me. The rest of you, get to work. If the soldiers ask, tell them you're following Tanaka-san's orders and you'll have no problems."

This reassurance jolted her new assistants into action, and she continued on her way into the inn, Sugiyama at her side.

The promised Amanto writing desk was a large, sturdy flat-topped piece of furniture. "This will do perfectly," she nodded her approval. "Let's have this moved to the kitchen right away. We'll go inform my comrades of our set-up."

They headed back to the front of the inn, where they met Katsura and another soldier carrying Takasugi in on a stretcher. She explained the situation to them, and Sugiyama showed them through to the kitchen. Nishiko was grateful to find water boiling and a neat stack of towels and cloths there.

While they were waiting for the desk to be moved, the men laid the stretcher on the floor and Katsura once again took up his vigil kneeling by his friend's side. Nishiko meanwhile went to the sink and began scrubbing the blood and dirt from her hands and arms. Then, as an afterthought, she pulled her blood-stained dagger from her belt and washed the Amanto blood from the blade.

When she had finished, she went to the kitchen hearth where a pot of water was boiling over a blazing fire. Kneeling there, she held the dagger's blade in the hottest part of the flames, turning it over after a time to make sure both sides were sterilized.

"Are you going to use that?" Katsura spoke softly at her elbow.

"I hope not," she said simply. She placed the dagger on one of the clean towels, hoping Takasugi hadn't seen these preparations.

Thumping, scuffling sounds announced the arrival of the desk. Four strong men heaved the solid wooden structure into the kitchen.

"Where do you want this, Tanaka-san?" the innkeeper asked.

"In the middle of the room," she directed. "Then open all the screens. It's going to be boiling hot in here."

Once the desk had been positioned, two of the servants held the stretcher up beside the desk, and Katsura slid Takasugi onto the desktop. Takasugi mumbled something as he did, but Nishiko didn't catch any distinct words.

She bent down to speak in his ear. "I'm going to clean your wounds, Takasugi-san." She spoke calmly and distinctly, hoping he would understand and not resist.

Then she moved to his abdomen and began to pull back Gintoki's haori. The fabric clung to the blood-soaked shirt around the wound, so she moistened the fabric until it came away, then ripped the shirt open further to expose the wound.

It was, like Gintoki had told her, a clean, shallow cut. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the sword hadn't punctured any organs. He'd been lucky. Or just skillful enough to avoid a deeper wound.

"That will heal well," Katsura pronounced loudly, probably for Takasugi's benefit.

"Yes, it's only a surface wound," she replied, just as loudly.

Her work here was simple. All she had to do was wash out the wound with soap and water, bandage it, and let it heal. With any luck, they'd avoid an infection.

Takasugi lay nearly still while she washed the wound, only wincing at her touch from time to time. He seemed barely conscious, his lips moving but not making any sound. The whole time she worked, she dreaded what she would find when she examined his eye.

She finished dressing and bandaging the wound, then in a low tone requested Katsura to hold Takasugi's head still for her while she removed the bandage from his face.

The bandage had soaked up a lot of blood, but the wound was no longer flowing. With a wet towel she began to wipe away the blood that obscured the extent of his injury. Takasugi let out a weak cry and tried to turn his face away, but Katsura had his head in an iron grip.

She knew almost immediately that the eye was lost. The Amanto's great sword had slashed through Takasugi's face, fracturing his socket and almost bisecting the eye itself. But she couldn't say it. She looked at Katsura and shook her head.

"There are new medical treatments . . ." Katsura faltered. He'd let go of Takasugi, but his right hand still touched his friend's cheek, almost caressing it.

"No." Nishiko answered. "Not here. Not now."

Katsura bowed his head.

"What are you going to do, Tanaka-san?" one of the men finally asked.

"I don't know," she told him.

"I'll find Gintoki," said Katsura abruptly. That seemed right somehow. Wait till Gintoki had seen the wound. She didn't really need his advice. She knew what to do, but she couldn't take this decision on her own.

"Where's Zura?" Takasugi's plaintive voice broke into her thoughts.

"He'll be right back," she assured him. She touched his forehead. It felt like a furnace.

"We. Don't. Need. Him." He pronounced these words slowly, one at a time, as if they were extremely important. "You can just send him away."

"All right," she agreed. There was no point in arguing with a feverish patient. "I'll do that."

"Tell Murakami he has to take command. I can't get up right now."

"I've told him. He's taking care of everything."

"Good." Takasugi sounded reassured. "He'll know what to do. Just let me rest for a bit . . . "

Nishiko swallowed hard, then hearing footsteps, looked up to see Gintoki striding towards her, followed by Zura.

"Gintoki, his eye -" she began.

Gintoki took a short look at Takasugi's face then looked up to her. "Why are you waiting?" he demanded.

"Gintoki, it's his eye. If he loses it -"

"He'll live. That's all that matters. Damnit, if you can't cut it out, I will."

"No! It has to be done carefully - "

He broke off her explanation. "If you can do it better than me, then do it."

"I don't have any anaesthetics. I don't even have any painkillers."

"We'll give him a good drink of Shochu. " Gintoki gestured to the innkeeper waiting in the corner. "This is an inn. This guy will have a bottle somewhere."

"I'll get you Shochu, Shiroyasha-san!" The innkeeper was already rummaging in a cupboard.

Nishiko reluctantly opened the depleted medical kit again, and began to take out the bandages and the gauze she would need. At the bottom of the kit was a pair of scissors for cutting bandages. She'd find out soon how well it would cut nerves and tendons.

After sterilizing the scissors like the dagger, she informed Gintoki that she was ready. "But you'll have to hold him still," she warned.

Gintoki held up a length of rope. "It'll be easier if we tie his legs down." He put his hand on Takasugi's left leg. "Help me out here, Zura."

His words or touch must have registered with Takasugi, for he violently kicked out at Gintoki. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"Give him the Shochu," Gintoki instructed as he fought to hold down Takasugi's legs.

One of the men held up Takasugi's head and Nishiko tried to give him the Shochu from the bottle but he clenched his jaw and wouldn't drink. She waited instead for Gintoki and Katsura to finish tying down Takasugi to the desk. He fought them the whole time, thrashing wildly against the ropes and damning them to hell.

Gintoki then pried open Takasugi's mouth for her to force the Shochu down his throat. Perhaps a third of the bottle actually made it down. He spat and coughed most of it out. Their hands and his face were sticky with liquor and saliva when she'd finished, and Takasugi had added her name to his curses.

She turned to wash her hands again, while Katsura cleaned up Takasugi's face. Then she picked up the dagger. "Hold his head still."

Gintoki pulled back the damaged eyelid for her. They were already hurting him. She could only go on and make this as quick as possible.

I'm sorry. She positioned the dagger to make the first cut. I'm so sorry.

With the first cut, he began screaming. It tore at her heart but her hand didn't shake. She tried to block out everything except making the right incisions. He was fighting hard against his restraints, but Gintoki held his head as still as though it'd been in an iron vise.

His body suddenly went limp. The pain was too much for him to endure and he had lapsed into unconsciousness. She had almost finished cutting out the eye. She looked up and noticed that the men were averting their glances. Katsura's face had turned completely white and his eyes were shut tight. Gintoki alone looked on with dull, reddish eyes, his face completely expressionless.

Using the scissors, she cut the optic nerve underneath the eyeball. It was done. She laid aside the globe and began packing the socket with gauze to staunch the bleeding. When she looked back at the desk, someone had covered the ruined eye with a towel.

"It's done," she whispered. Katsura reopened his eyes. In silence, he held up Takasugi's head for her while she wound the pressure bandage tightly around his head. When she had finished, no one spoke at first. Then Gintoki turned to face Katsura.

"I can't stay here, Zura."

Katsura nodded. "Go. I'll take care of him."

Gintoki's eyes lit up with an odd amusement. "You'll take better care of him than he did of you."

"Gintoki!" Katsura protested. "How can you -"

"He's wounded. He didn't become a saint," Gintoki interrupted. "Come along, Zura. We've got a lot to discuss before I go. There are men here from Kyoto with more bad news." He turned and walked out from the room.

Katsura started after him, then stopped, and walked back to Nishiko. "Thank you, Nishiko-dono."

She tried to answer, but her throat was all choked up. She nodded instead, then watched Katsura leave after Gintoki.

1867 – Edo:

In a private room just off the bakery's shop front, Nishiko was kneeling and pouring Katsura's tea for him. The baker had provided a variety of delicious-looking pastries, which lay on a tray before Katsura. It was an oddly domestic scene.

"For a long time, I thought we would all be together again someday," Katsura broke the silence.

"You and Gintoki are back together again," said Nishiko reproachfully. She finished pouring the tea and took her place across the tray from him.

"Gintoki is slowing returning to the Joui cause," said Katsura. "But Takasugi . . . there's nothing we hold in common anymore. He doesn't care anything for the living and he doesn't care for you."

"That's not true," she said quietly. "He's loyal to those who are loyal to him. It's a hard loyalty, because he would sacrifice any one of us, just as he's sacrificing himself. But he wouldn't just discard us."

"You deserve more than that."

"Of course, we deserved more than that! We deserved to live our lives with our families and friends back home! It's too late for any of us to get that back!" She stopped and took a deep breath, realizing she was on the brink of hysteria.

"You loved him."

She stared at the tray between them.

"Still, Nishiko-dono?"

She shook her head. "I'm not that immature. I haven't spent all these years pining over someone who could never love me back." She looked up now, defiantly meeting Katsura's gaze. "I made a promise, Katsura-san. I'm not going back on it."

1861 – Fushimi:

They'd given Takasugi his own bedroom in the inn, as far away from the busy courtyard and front rooms as possible. Nishiko knew that when he regained consciousness, his head would feel as if it'd exploded, and quiet was an absolute necessity.

His men had taken turns sitting with him while she had been busy helping the other wounded. Between cleaning wounds and setting broken limbs, she'd checked in on him a few times. He was running a high fever, tossing and turning on his futon. There was nothing they could do for him but cool his body with a wet cloth and wait for the fever to break.

While Takasugi lay on his futon, Gintoki and Katsura had divided responsibility for his troops between them. Katsura had taken charge of the men who'd come to Fushimi with them. Gintoki had gone north to join the Kiheitai under Captain Murakami, and to rally any Joui fighters he could find. Nishiko hadn't taken the time to hear the details of their situation, but from snatches of conversation overheard while she was working, she gathered that Yodo Castle was the only place where the Jouishishi had scored a victory. And even that victory had been purchased with more blood than they could really afford to lose.

When she'd finally finished attending to the wounded, she went back up to Takasugi's bedroom and made up a futon for herself near his. "I'll sleep here tonight," she told the soldier sitting with Takasugi. "I'm a light sleeper. If he wakes, I'll take care of him. You can go to bed now."

It wasn't a restful sleep. Every time Takasugi stirred, she'd sit bolt upright to check on him. And the blows she had taken to her face had left it swollen and aching. But she forgot the pain and fatigue immediately the moment Takasugi spoke her name.

"Nishiko," his voice sounded heavy and hoarse beside her.

She opened her eyes and scrambled off her futon to his side. The first rays of dawn were lighting up the room. "Yes, I'm here." She rested her hand on his brow. The fever had gone down.

"I'm thirsty."

That wasn't a surprise. His men last night had tried to force him to drink, but he'd spat out and dribbled the tea, just as he had the Shochu. The thermos of cold tea was sitting by his head.

"We've made you some tea. The water's not safe here, not with the sanitation system closed down." She placed a hand under his head to tilt it upwards and held the thermos of to his lips. He gulped down the tea eagerly, draining the whole thermos within the minute.

"Where's Gintoki?" he asked when he'd finished.

"He's with your men."

"Good. He'll take care of them. My head hurts so much – My eye?"

"Takasugi-san . . . the Amanto blade cut right through it. We couldn't do anything for it . . . "

"It's gone, isn't it?" he said.

"I had to cut it completely out. With no hospitals here - I'm sorry."

"Am I going to live?"

"Yes!" she cried. "We need you!"

A short, despairing laugh shook his entire body. "I know I was needed. But now I've failed."

"You haven't failed, Takasugi-san."

He said nothing.

She didn't know how to reassure him. There was probably nothing she could tell him that would make him believe her.

"Since you're awake now, I'll have to change your bandages," she told him.

"Go ahead."

Carefully, holding his head up again, she began to unwind the bandage holding the gauze in place. Then she pulled the packed gauze from the socket. It had soaked up and stopped the flow of blood. The wound was raw underneath but healing as well as she could expect.

"It doesn't look infected," she pronounced. "You're healing well, Takasugi-san." She forced a smile for him.

"I want to see."

She bit back her urge to protect him. There was no way to cushion this blow. "I'll have to find a mirror," she said shakily.

"Did they bring my things here?"

"Yes."

"There's a small brown satchel with my shaving kit. It has a small mirror. Look for it."

Nishiko went to the cabinet where they'd stowed Takasugi's baggage. Everything was piled haphazardly inside, with no order to it. With a pang she remembered that Inoue wasn't there anymore to organize his commander's clothes and equipment.

The satchel was at the top of the heap. From it, she drew out the small round mirror and brought it back to his side. She held it up so that he could see the left side of his face.

At first he hardly reacted to the sight, just stared at the gaping hole as if he was trying to grasp its meaning. Then he began to laugh.

"Gintoki will be happy. No girl will ever pick my face over his again."

He spoke as though he was genuinely amused by the thought. Nishiko frowned. She was torn between pity and a sudden curious jealousy.

"You can bandage it up again, Nishiko-san." He closed his good eye.

Nishiko put down the mirror and began to pack the empty socket again with gauze. Once she'd finished, she took new bandages and wrapped them around his head. He held up his own head while she did, but said nothing.

Privately, she thought how handsome he still was with his dark hair falling down over the white bandage, his face almost as pale as snow. It was impossible to tell him of this, of course. He knew that she loved him. And he didn't want to hear about it. That was how it had to be.

If only he wouldn't talk about other women in front of her.

"Bring me my pipe, Nishiko," he ordered her when she'd finished with the bandages.

The pipe proved harder to find. She had to shift nearly every article in the cabinet before she discovered it and tobacco pouch under a heap of stained clothes. She began to fill the bowl of the pipe with some of the fine strands of tobacco, a little unsure how much exactly to add. He nodded when she showed him the result, then instructed her to light it and bring it to his mouth.

Gently, she rested the stem of the pipe against his lower lip. He took a few puffs, then nodded for her to take it from him.

"That's better. Hmm . . ." He took a deep breath. "You'll have to go on too, Nishiko-san."

"Go where?"

"With my men, the ones who are still alive. You're their medic." He spoke in a listless, detached tone, so disturbingly different from his usual intensity.

"Takasugi-san, I won't leave you."

"I won't need you as much as they do."

"You need me to even smoke your pipe," she quipped.

A small smile crept onto his face. "Give me another puff."

She held the pipe for him while he smoked, neither of them talking. She tried to avoid staring at the bandage that covered the left side of his face, but her eyes were drawn back to it again and again. When he was done, he closed his good eye and she stood up to leave.

"Stay here," he ordered, without opening his eye.

"All right." She settled herself down beside him again, wondering at his insistence. "Do you need anything else, Takasugi-san?"

"Just some company to distract myself."

"You need to sleep, you know."

"There's nothing restful about my sleep. Whether I'm asleep or awake, I'll have the same nightmares."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

"I still see it all unfolding before my minds' eyes like one of those Amanto movies. It's as though I'm there. I see his face, Nishiko. Sometimes with the smile he had that last day." The intensity had returned to his voice and he'd opened his eye again.

"Do you remember him, Nishiko-san?" he asked suddenly.

No need to ask who he was. "Yes," she told him. "I never knew Yoshida-san very well, I'm afraid. But he seemed to me like a kind and good man." She struggled to find the right words to acknowledge his teacher without claiming any connection that she didn't have.

"He believed in us. He really did. He had absolute certainty that his lessons were just the beginning for us."

"He was right," she insisted. "He would be proud of you now, fighting the Amanto."

He shook his head. "If he could see us now, he would be heartbroken. I'm tired of fighting, Nishiko. I don't want to live in this world anymore. Do you understand?"

"Please, you have to fight for your life. For all our sakes."

"Don't worry, Nishiko," he said grimly. "I'll fight my way back on my feet. I have nothing but my vengeance left. But that will bring me back to life."

Author's Notes:

- So, I can say now that this whole story began with that scene with the eye. Took a long time researching that, but in the end decided not to get too graphic or detailed.

- The opening quote is from a letter of Yoshida Shoin to his teenage student Takasugi Shinsaku, and can be found at this site: red-bird dot org /meiji2 /takasugi-shinsaku /takasugi-views-on-yoshida-shoin (This website doesn't let me link properly).

- The title of this chapter is a Japanese saying. "起死回生 (kishi kaisei) Literally: Wake from death and return to life Meaning: To come out of a desperate situation and make a complete return in one sudden burst.I found it atlinguanaut dot com /japanese_sayings dot htm

Murayama-Tsuru: I'm 30, actually, and work full time as well as writing fanfic on the side. The twenty-five years of writing I mentioned dates from starting to write stories when I was five. I haven't published anything original yet, though I have plenty of ideas/original fiction projects. But I also suffered from severe writer's block for three years before I started writing fanfic again for Gintama. So I have Gintama to thank for getting my muse back.

BlueBlizzard1725: I'm glad the fighting worked for you. When I start writing action, I am reduced to thinking/feeling "How do bodies MOVE?"I'm not a very visual person.

Haitch: You were my toughest audience when it came to getting the reader's emotions involved. I was kind of worrying you'd be left cold by the chapter. Instead, that beautiful review, which left me flailing.

hues: I actually wasn't expecting the last line either. I had a longer conversation planned till I got there, and just realized that was the perfect ending.

ForgottenClown79: Sorry for not updating soon, but glad to hear you're reading.

Sakata-San: I enjoy silly Katsura in the present too, but from what we've seen of him in flashbacks and the one time he got really serious in Benizakura arc, he can be extremely impressive when the situation calls for it, so I'm just channeling that.

TheBlueSheep: I'm glad you finally reviewed. I've said this before, but it's 100 percent true. I really don't imagine anyone's reading the fic other than people who tell me so. And yeah, most of the OCs were invented to be the dead companions Takasugi and Katsura and Gintoki talk about in their first interactions in the manga/anime.

ribbons-red: Great that you enjoyed Nishiko fending for herself in the last chapter. I didn't want to write her as a crazy-strong warrior, since we already have the Joui trio for that, but she's getting more self-reliant and competent as she goes along, as well as used to ordering people around. I was also was amused/touched at how my chapter made you worry for a second that Takasugi was dead. That's a real hallmark of success there!

kurasuchi: You and your Zura/Nishiko ship shakes head Actually that goes for ribbons-red and Faris too. Anyhow, Nishiko was always planned to do some stuff plot-wise, but I think she's grown as a character while I've written her and listened to people's opinions of how she's been portrayed.

farispie: One of the things I wanted to explore in this story was exactly how Takasugi is messed up himself, and how he messes up people around him. And there are more plot developments that will follow on the previous build-up.

Midori: You left the review as 'Guest' but I knew it was you. :) Despite the title, it hit you in the feels, and the title was just too good to pass up, so yeah, I'm not sorry either.