There just isn't enough Gintama fanfiction. I've been working on this for a while, and I think I'll write something for Shinsuke and Shinpachi every year. Hope you all like this, this is my first actually Gintama fic. Be nice.

Oh, yeah.

I DO NOT OWN GINTAMA.

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The Butterfly Kimono

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It was a small shrine, just a shack with a pair of sliding doors and hardly any room inside, but it was enough. The shrine was tucked far away from prying eyes. He just needed a place to stop and catch his breath. Shinsuke had bound his injuries enough that he hadn't left a trail of his own blood after him, so with any luck, no one would notice or find him. After a quick rest, he would move on. That was his plan. He didn't even realize that he had dozed off until he woke up.

He doubted he had been asleep very long at all—a few minutes at the most—but he awoke due to the hurried steps approaching his hiding place, as well as a rather meek voice, calling out. "Neko-kun, you can't go in there!"

Before Shinsuke could devise a plan, the footsteps quickened and the partially-closed door was pushed open. Just wide enough to let someone small through. The little grey cat that dashed by the samurai didn't even spare him a glance. But the young boy that came scurrying after it immediately stopped.

Dark eyes went wide at the sight of him, sitting within the shadows and just out of sight. Whether it was his very presence or the blood flowing from his multiple wounds, the boy's fear was obvious and Shinsuke couldn't help but smile smugly at him. Almost daring him to say or do something.

As if that was a trigger, the boy turned back around and dashed away.

The samurai sighed lightly, certain that the boy's parents or someone would be brought over to find him and he would be dealt with however they saw fit. Letting his intact eye drift closed again in exhaustion, he wondered if fighting his way out would be worth the effort. He was tired, hungry and thirsty. He was so thirsty…

"Here…"

His good eye snapped open again at the weak little voice. Shinsuke wondered if he had dozed off again, not to have heard the boy's return. But surprise lit up his pale face when he found the boy holding out a wood ladle, filled to the brim with water.

"Water…It's water…" He offered in a small voice, his hands trembling slightly—either from fear or the effort to keep the water contained.

Shinsuke was shocked, to say the least. He wasn't about to deny the offer, he was so thirsty, but his body immediately screamed in protest and fought against him when he tried to move. He grit his teeth when he felt the wound on his side reopened just slightly and burn through his senses. Fearful, but oddly determined, the boy inched closer, bringing the dipper to his lips. When the first drop hit his tongue, Shinsuke found a sudden burst of strength and gripped the boy's wrist as he hastily swallowed the water down.

Had water always tasted so good? His throat was so dry it burned when he breathed, and the water was a blessed relief from the inferno.

The boy hurried away and came back three or four more times with water.

Finally, with the boy sitting not even a foot away from him, Shinsuke slipped away from the waking world and into silence.

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It was burning hot and freezing cold. The sky was black, but the ground was white.

But it wasn't snow. The ground was solid, dry and dead.

He almost convinced himself that it was rocks under his feet and not broken bits of bone.

As he looked out to the horizon, the bones became whole, forming complete bodies. Most looked human. Others less than.

Nothing moved, not even the wind. He was alone in this wasteland.

Silence. Burning cold.

That was all. And he accepted it.

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When he again opened his remaining eye, he was alone. Also, from the pale light against the paper of the sliding doors, it was morning.

The aches and pains of his wounds had settled. His muscles and joints were stiff from his sleep settling his injuries. It hurt to move at all. Could he risk staying here for much longer? How many hours had he been unconscious? How much longer did he have before someone came looking for him?

"Are you still here…?"

Not so much surprised as he was baffled by the small voice coming from beyond the sliding doors, Shinsuke kept silent. He kept a firm grip on his sword as he listened to the sound of light footsteps move from one end to the other. Finally, the door slid open, and the same boy from the day before peeked in. Upon spotting the injured man, he pulled his head back out with a pitiful squeak.

A rather long moment of silence followed.Shinsuke wondered if the boy had actually run away.But soon enough, the boy came back. He pushed something bound in a big green cloth through the door, followed by a pail full of water, and finally he slowly climbed inside with a polite, "Excuse me…"

Shinsuke watched as the boy brought everything over, opened the bundle and took out a series of items—bandages, bits of cloth, a small jar of salve, an old-looking shirt, a canteen, and even a bento. To say this wasn't odd would be untrue. Still, the boy was offering both the canteen and the box. He had gone through the trouble to bring all of these things. And Shinsuke thought it safe to assume that the kid hadn't told anyone about him, and was thus safe enough to accept what help he was offering.

He took several generous gulps of water from the canteen, but left the lunch box alone for the time being. He watched the boy take one cloth and soak it in the bucket of water, then wring it out before he offer it to the wounded samurai. As brave as the kid was to approach him, Shinsuke assumed he was still scared enough to not want to get too close. Drained but attentive, he struggled and eventually made it out of his battle-torn garments enough to clean his wounds properly.

"Were you fighting…?" The small boy asked quietly. "A-At Edo Castle…?"

Shinsuke smiled grimly as he sat up, hissing as he disturbed his many injuries. "If I was?"

The boy said nothing further—clearly scared back into silence—instead opting to unroll some clean bandages. The kid proved to be a little clumsy—somehow knotting the bandage while unrolling it—so the samurai was also left to bind his own wounds. He honestly preferred to take care of his injuries himself most of the time—on the battlefield, you usually had to—so it wasn't incredibly difficult.

What he truly dreaded was having to take care of his eye. The damage to his left eye was not as fresh as the rest of his wounds, but still recent enough that he had to clean it often enough so that it didn't get infected. He had had some help the first few times, so it was safe enough. But tending to a serious injury that he couldn't even see was hard to work with.

"Hey, kid—" The boy actually jumped, "—how old are you?"

"Uhh… I-I'm eight…sir…"

"Ten years my junior," mused Shinsuke mildly. "You ever bandage up anyone's head before?"

"Yes," he seemed more confident with this answer. "Yes, sir, I have."

"Then you can help me," Shinsuke shifted forward a little as he started undoing the bandages over his eye. The boy's meager confidence seemed to deflate as he quickly caught on to what he would have to do. But rather than backing away like the samurai expected, he moved closer. His discomfort was clear on his young face, but he seemed determined to help, nonetheless. He'd gone this far, why not further?

The dried blood that came off with the bandage made them both wince, but they were both determined to take care of his eye as quickly as possible. Shinsuke carefully washed his face as the boy started wrapping a long strip of bandages around his head, then brought some of the cloth down across his eye. Overall, the process went smoother than it would have if the samurai had attempted it on his own.

"Does that…feel okay…?" Asked the boy carefully.

Shinsuke nodded with a relieved sigh as he leaned back against the wall, worn out by the activity of cleaning and patching himself up again.

"I have to head back home now," the boy said as he raised the article of clothing he had brought. "This is one of Hajime-nii's old shirts, so he let me have it. And I pulled a little bit of food together for you. My sister didn't cook it, so you won't die."

Shinsuke actually wondered if he should ask after that last part, but decided he was too tired to bother. He didn't send any well wishes after the boy, and he was similarly quiet as he slipped back out into the sunlight and disappeared again.

He would come back later that afternoon, only long enough to leave more food and hurry off again.

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The boy came back the next morning with more food and water. Presenting him with some riceballs and a couple cold fish, Shinsuke ate slowly and silently. Sitting across from him, he watched him in an oddly comfortable silence, his dark eyes bright and eager.

As the boy finished packing things back up, Shinsuke couldn't help asking, "Why are you bothering to help me, anyway?"

The child was visibly startled by his question. But he almost instantly dropped his gaze to the floor and put his hands in his lap. "I don't know what else I can do… I'm slow, and clumsy, and kind of stupid… I can't do anything by myself…I just wanted…to help somebody…!"

It was a good sentiment, and given the current state of their country, an understandable one.

"Why not help that sister you mentioned? Or your parents?"

At this, the boy seemed to shrink, even as his eyes burned with anger. "Nee-san doesn't need help. She's stronger than me," he said. "And my stupid dad could care less about me."

Shinsuke didn't prod him about how he made no mention of his mother.

"I wish I was older. Then I could have fought against the Amanto, too!"

At this, however, Shinsuke couldn't help laughing out loud. "I don't really know if that would have changed the outcome…"

"But…!" The boy started, but then his face fell as he accepted the truth of this. "But still…"

"Don't bother worrying about it," Shinsuke sighed, laying down and turning on his side. "It's all done now. Nothing will change what's already happened."

Fallen friends. Comrades. Brothers in arms. Warm hands now ice cold.

A head with long, pale hair lying atop a dirty blanket. Cold, empty eyes that were once warm and kind.

"Nothing."

It was a long, tense silence before the boy asked, "What am I supposed to do, then?"

Shinsuke heard his question, and actually pondered over it. The war was officially lost. The Shogunate was in complete cooperation with the Amanto. Already, Samurai were being stripped of their swords and livelihood. Already, the air was growing stale as the sky became cluttered with trash.

"At this point, you can only do one of two things," he finally said, rolling onto his back to look at the boy. "You can accept this world, this life, and lay down your pride and rot in the streets with the rest of the garbage that is humanity."

"…Or?" The boy's voice nervously prompted.

"Or…we can simply do away with it all," Shinsuke found he could actually smile at the kid, though he felt no mirth about his words. "That sounds nice, doesn't it? Just end the world. Make it all go quiet and still. That would be perfect, wouldn't it?"

The boy said nothing in response to this. He just sat there, staring back at him with a look of mixed fear and uncertainty. Likely, the boy couldn't understand, much less like either choice laid out before him. But truly, that was all that was left.

A slow, fester of life.

A sudden, inexplicable death.

That was all that remained for them. For anyone.

Hoping he might actually pass away in his sleep, Shinsuke drifted off before the boy left.

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The next day, when Shinsuke woke up sometime in the afternoon, he was not surprised that the boy had not come. Likely, their last topic of discussion was finally enough to scare the kid away. And while Shinsuke could certainly use the daily meals that he brought to help him to recover his strength, he couldn't stay in this shack for too much longer.

He hardly looked presentable, his wounds weren't fully healed, and he had no idea where he could go. But go he must.

Picking himself up, he instantly felt the stiff pain of his joints protest the action. His muscles had stiffened further due to his inactivity. Carefully, using the wall to support him, he crossed the small space between his resting place and the door. It took much longer than he would have liked, but he had only himself to blame for failing to work himself properly.

He made it to the door, sliding it open and wincing at the golden light of the setting sun that burned over the horizon and directly into his good eye. At least he would have the cover of evening to keep a low profile, everyone would be too tired from their own day to pay him any mind—no matter how stiffly or awkwardly he walked.

He braced himself for the long-short struggle to reach the bottom of both the shrine steps as well at the stone stairs that led to the city.

When suddenly, he saw the boy that had been visiting him come running up the steps.

He was covered in sweat and dirt, with a few scrapes and bruises, and looked ready to pass out from whatever struggles he had faced. But he persisted on his hurried course, not stopping until he reached the tiny shrine when Shinsuke waited. There, he fell to his knees, gasping and heaving, and not once losing his grip on the wrapped bundle tight against his small chest.

For whatever reason, his own exhaustion or curiosity or curiosity, Shinsuke sat down on the wood steps of the shrine as the kid struggled to catch his breath. "So? What's up?"

The boy swallowed a couple times to get air back into his lungs, before holding out the bundle he carried. "For…you…"

The bundle was actually a black box wrapped in aged paper, though it still appeared in better condition than the child who brought it. Taking it, Shinsuke unwrapped it and lifted the smooth, black lid. Inside was a kimono. A rather pretty piece of dark violet silk, lined with gold, and covered in gold butterflies. The pattern alone made it clear that this was a woman's kimono, so he had to wonder why the kid had brought it to him.

"Pretty," he offered. "What's it for?"

It was another few moments before the boy finally caught his breath enough to actually speak. During which time, Shinsuke simply sat and waited, offering no help. Given his condition, he didn't feel like pushing himself to fetch some water from the nearby well. But he sat and waited until the kid was ready.

"Day after tomorrow is my birthday," the boy finally said, his words sullen as he pulled his knees against his chest. "Everybody said that we needed to sell everything in storage for presents, but I knew they were lying. No one celebrates my birthday, so I knew they were lying." He got up and clambered up to sit beside Shinsuke. "The people taking everything were just looking for anything valuable. My stupid dad has a lotta debts, and he's always selling stuff to make payments."

Shinsuke had long since known that the way of the samurai was in its decline since the Amanto came. The schools and such were being either outright destroyed or slowly taken apart, piece by piece until they fell into decay.

Burning. Fire ate everything without mercy. Leaving only cold, black bones.

"I know junk like that is normal," the boy suddenly went on, snapping Shinsuke back to the present. "I know that! But I hate that he lied to me about it!"

Shinsuke returned the lid to the box and once again bound it in paper. "Why bring it to me, then?"

The boy looked at him, but quickly lowered his dark eyes again to his feet that hung off the ground. "I thought about it and I…I want you to have it. I'm giving it to you."

"Again, why?" The swordsman asked, confused and surprised, but hiding it well.

"I thought about it real hard," the boy repeated. "And… Well… I don't have much. But you don't have anything. So I thought it would be better if I gave it to you. So long as my dad doesn't sell it, it's fine."

'Ah, so it's more about getting back at his father,' Shinsuke nodded thoughtfully. Out loud, he asked, "But suppose I decide to sell it?"

The boy visibly flinched, but surprisingly did not object. "If that's what you want to do with it, it's yours," he said. "It-It was my mom's…so I've been told. It's really pretty, and probably worth something, but…I just didn't want them to have it."

Better to dispose of it yourself than let it fall into enemy hands. Shinsuke could understand that.

"But what if your old man really did want to do something nice for your birthday?"

At this, the kid's entire form wilted. Every tense muscle in his small body went lax and his head bowed. "He wouldn't do that. He's never done that. No one does anything for my birthday."

"Why not?" Shinsuke was starting to feel like all he'd done today was ask questions.

"When I was born, my mother died."

The air went silent around them, and somehow, Shinsuke couldn't find anything to say to such an admission. It was understandable for the boy to blame himself, but for his own father and those around him to do so was beyond despicable.

'This world really is worthless…'

"When is your birthday, anyway?" Shinsuke finally asked.

"August 12th, day after tomorrow," the boy replied quietly.

Shinsuke blinked in surprise. It was already August? The 12th? So that would make today…

The one-eyed young man couldn't help laughing. It was so sudden that the boy actually jumped in his seat, watching him warily.

"That's very interesting," Shinsuke sighed, feeling oddly refreshed after his laughter. "The 12th of August is your birthday. The 10th of August is mine."

The boy blinked, his big brown eyes widening in surprise. "Today? Really? Today is your birthday? How old are you?"

"Nineteen," the swordsman smiled. "And you are ten years and two days my junior. That's too funny." His one eye was once again drawn to the wrapped box in his lap. "In light of that fact, I think I can accept this as a sort of birthday present."

The kid looked genuinely relieved and happy. But at the same time, he appeared oddly prickly. "But…I sorta feel bad now. I gave you something, but it wasn't for the right reasons."

"I'm satisfied with this," Shinsuke assured him, patting the box lightly.

"But I gave you that just because!" The boy insisted. "I should give you something because it's your birthday today…" He dug around in his sleeve until his found what little money he carried with him. "I don't have much, but can go buy you something sweet! Nothing nice, but…" He hopped down and smiled brightly up at the samurai. "There's a small candy shop not too far away. I'll go buy you some caramels as a birthday present!"

And with that, he turned and hurried away to his task.

Waiting until he couldn't see or hear him anymore, Shinsuke once again struggled to his feet. It was a little easier this time, though still painful. And following the stone stairway, step by careful step, the swordsman left the shrine behind him.

And amidst his plans to leave Edo, find somewhere safe to hide himself away, he wondered if the boy would cry when he returned to find him gone.

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Takasugi Shinsuke was awoken from his dream by the quiet but incessant calling of his name.

"Shinsuke-sama…Shinsuke-sama…Shinsuke-sama…"

Matako knew better than to actually touch him and shake him awake. A true samurai, he kept his sword with him everywhere he went to eat or sleep, and would respond to any sudden touch in the worst way.

Blinking the sleep from his unbound eye, the man beheld the young blonde with a mild sigh. "Yes?"

"Dinner is ready, Shinsuke-sama," she smiled, a warm flush to her skin.

Ignoring the adoration in her eyes as he stretched life back into his sleeping muscles, Shinsuke picked himself up to head to the dining room.

He didn't expect the grand feast of all his favorite dishes laid out on the tatami. Nor for most of his to be gathered there, looking as pleased with themselves as anything. Kamui was even there, with Abuto, ever at his side, and his bright smile bigger than usual. Bansai sat in his usual corner, his shamisen in his lap and a particular smile on his face that made Shinsuke pause in realization.

Today was…

"Happy Birthday, Shinsuke," the black-clad assassin said with a strum of his instrument.

And with that, everyone cheered and the celebrations began. Ushered to his seat of honor, he was immediately offered a cup of wine and a plate of food. Saying nothing, he merely accepted, as he did every year.

It was an event they never failed to find the time and money for. Every year, good food, drink and music filled the boat in celebration. While he could have easily gone without it, he decided that it wasn't bad to celebrate something every now and again. For the others, Shinsuke was someone they could celebrate. He was someone they would gladly honor with food and song. (This year, he suspected the food would run out fairly quickly with Kamui and his huge appetite.) He supposed that it wasn't wrong to want to celebrate a life—even if there was nothing in life worth such festivity—so long as it made someone happy.

Out of nowhere, he remembered a small boy covered in dirt and bruises, who no one celebrated.

Shinsuke was honestly surprised at himself. He hadn't thought about that shrine or that odd little boy in over a decade. Honestly, he had found it ridiculous to think about early on and forgotten his short stay there completely until that dream. So why now? What stirred this memory to life again after all this time?

Turning away, Shinsuke's single eye drifted out the open window to the setting sun. It was the same color as it had been that August 10th so many years ago.

After several refills to his cup, a few additions to his plate and three shots from Matako at Kamui, Shinsuke felt relaxed enough to consider something he knew was ridiculous. Maybe, if he was still thinking about it when he was completely sober. Maybe if he could find it again. Maybe if it was still around.

Maybe he would find the time to go visit that shrine day after tomorrow.