#nobunobu...................................come back

They snuck up on him unexpectedly. He’d look down at his hands and find them splattered with rich red blood that glowed ruby in the light, or he’d look down an alleyway to find a piled mound of corpses, piled high and rotting. No one would ever know it with the way he charged fearlessly into battle, but even Gintoki was not immune to it. If he had no remorse about the crimes against nature that he had committed, he would truly be a monster. Every warrior had their nightmares. Every soldier had remorse. It was simply the reparations for the choices he had made. Though if one asked him, Gintoki would deny that he had any regrets, and it would be true. He was a man that was very fastidious in his beliefs, and he would soak his hands in blood a thousand times over without thinking twice- but that didn’t stop him from awaking in cold sweats sometimes.

He tipped his head back with a long, drawn-out sigh, tired eyes beholding the heavens. He wasn’t a sentimental guy, really; he didn’t stop to smell the roses or think hard on the simple pleasures of life. However, during his irregular midnight meandering, his eyes were always drawn up to the black canvas punctured with pinpricks of light. Something about the cold, indignant white rays was oddly comforting— like he was convincing himself that the heavens passed no judgment. They shone on him, a blood-drenched sinner, and a divine saint just as equally. Gintoki really didn’t think much into the matters of life after death and potential punishments for his transgressions, but he wouldn’t say that he never thought about it, either. It was a characteristic of being human, wondering about what happened next. It would flicker in his mind for just a brief moment, like a will-o-the-wisp bobbing through the dark wood of his mind. Then he’d force it away, because what was the point? He would know when he died.

His feet carried him to the local graveyard, almost like he really was a wandering spirit attracted to the realm of the dead. He strolled silently through the rows and rows of gray stones inscribed with those he never knew but called out to him anyway. Samurai, housewives, criminals, construction workers, shopkeepers, shoguns— at the end of the day, they were all just destined to be put in a hole in the ground six-foot deep. At the drop of a hat, one’s life is snuffed out and nothing matters anymore. Gintoki never knew whether to find that humbling or disturbing.

The only sound was the gentle strikes of his sandaled feet against the cobblestone path. It pounded in his ears like the somber beating of a death knell drum- or was it a headache from lack of sleep? After a point, Gintoki’s mind began to grow muddled and foggy. It was usually a sign that he was near the point of exhaustion. Sometimes he would be able to stagger back to the Yorozuya and collapse into his futon, and sometimes he would pass out somewhere in the sprawl of Kabukicho, like some common drunk tottering back from a binger. It really was a coin toss.

Gintoki was about to do just that and head back when suddenly his footsteps weren’t the only sound in the graveyard. In the near distance, he could hear a soft voice—like someone was speaking to a grave. Not unusual in itself, but unusual for the time of night. On a whim, he decided to investigate and follow the sound, eventually coming upon someone sitting across from a gravestone talking quietly about daily life.

“Zura?”

“It’s Katsura. What are you doing out so late, Gintoki?” The former Joui patriot asked with a wry smile and a glance out of the corner of his eyes. With an indignant snort, Gintoki tucked his hand into the fold of his kimono and eyed him grudgingly.

“I could ask you the same question.” Katsura languidly lolled his head over his shoulder to smirk at him sardonically. Honestly, there was no point in interrogating each other, because they were both out for the same reasons and they both knew it. Spying a sake bottle sitting beside the long-haired man, Gintoki strolled over to lean down and snatch it up, draining the bottle of a third of its contents in one swig. The clear rice wine burned his throat as it washed down his throat, but ironically rather than muddying his mind further, he found the sleepy fog lifting.

“Rude, stealing a man’s offering like that,” Katsura huffed. With an equally incensed puff, Gintoki sat the bottle down beside him again, its ceramic surface striking loudly against the smooth cobblestone.

“There’s plenty left. Don’t be greedy.” Gintoki’s eyes flashed to the characters inscribed on the grave marker. Nobunobu, of course. Gintoki had never been privy to the exact details of what had gone down in the Amanto spaceship in the sky, but he was very familiar with the fact that Katsura now felt some kind of deep kinship with the deceased shogun. Apparently, the former coward had reformed himself tremendously under the duress of the world ending. It was interesting; normally, such a situation brought out the worst in people, not the best. Gintoki crouched down beside Katsura to stare levelly at the gray stone with not a thought in his mind at all. Katsura sat beside him, eyes closed and arms crossed as he meditated under the cold light of the moon.

“Do you ever wonder if there’s no need for men like us anymore?” Katsura asked suddenly, softly. Gintoki’s gaze flickered to him to see him once more eyeing him thoughtfully out of the corners of his eyes. Gintoki pondered on the question for a moment before returning his stare to the gravestone.

“Looking to throw in the towel already? How unlike you, Zura,” he said, but there was not a playful or mocking tone in his voice. It was level and unfeeling, matching his expressionless face. “Of course I wonder,” he answered after another brief period of silence. “But then, what would be left of me? I am who I am, so I’m just gonna keep on bein’ me until the world decides to do me in,” he shrugged nonchalantly. He could be unnecessary in the grand scheme of things, but to a certain corner of the world, he was necessary. There were people who depended on him to be Gintoki, and that was enough for him. They accepted him, blood-stained hands and all. There wasn’t really much need for him to change or question his place in the world. He had one.

Katsura’s mouth curled into a slight smirk as he exhaled sharply from his nose.

“How like you.” Gintoki shrugged again and threaded his fingers through his silvery hair. He plucked up the sake bottle to partake in its contents just like Gintoki had earlier, then poured the lingering third of the alcohol over the top of the gravestone. With lidded eyes, Gintoki watched the shiny silver surface of the porous stone darken to an ashy gray as the pearls of liquid slowly traveled down its surface in many rivers. He wasn’t sure if Katsura wanted him to say more. He didn’t have much to say. He was a samurai, not a philosopher. “Good talk, Gintoki,” Katsura mused and clapped him on the shoulder before standing up. Gintoki swallowed the wry quip that it wasn’t really much of a chat at all, just two forgotten relics brooding in the dark together. With a small sigh, he pushed himself up into a standing position as well, lamenting the burning creak in his knees. He should know better than to squat like that for so long. Katsura twirled the empty sake bottle in his hand as he regarded him with a small smile. “You ever think the nightmares will stop?” Way to get to the heart of the matter, Zura.

“Nah,” Gintoki answered immediately with another glance at the forlorn moon. The wind blew suddenly, rustling the thick fabric of their kimonos and shaking the leaves of the trees planted in the graveyard as if the world had given its affirmation to his answer. “But they’re only nightmares, after all,” he added indifferently as if they weren’t the very thing that had him roaming the night like a lost soul. He wandered and wallowed, but he always found his way back home. “It’s always fine once morning comes.” He would never admit it, but he’d always forget the lurid visions of war once he was greeted by Kagura and Shinpachi’s bright, childish faces. Dawn was never out of his reach.

“You really have it all figured out, don’t you?”

“Me?” Gintoki scoffed with a roguish grin. “Nah. You know me, Zura. I just make it up as I go along.” The air rang with the patriot’s airy laugh.

“I suppose you do.” Katsura looked up at the sky again, then back at the silver-haired samurai. “Time to head home. Morning isn’t far off,” he said with a simple wave before whirling on his heel to begin striding back towards the entrance of the graveyard. He vanished like smoke, melting into the darkness. Gintoki smirked slightly and looked at the horizon, which was beginning to grow fuzzy with the faint trickle of yellow. He thought of Kagura and Shinpachi, asleep in their beds and eager to greet the day once morning came.

Morning isn’t far off, indeed.  

But for now, this is the final season, the final act in a story that continues to surpass my expectations at every turn. It’s the climax of a million different character arcs, a million different story threads, and the entire thematic ethos of the entire show. From the aftermath of Season 3′s status-quo-obliteration conclusion, it takes the characters and their journey that have been building ever since Gintoki first smashed that goddamn parfait and lets them explode with the force of a fucking supernova. Heroes and villains unite to fight for the new world, enemies and allies come together in pursuit of the same future, and all of them doubt themselves, lose their way, and find what kind of samurai they want to be. It’s collectively the single most soul-uplifting stretch of the entire show, seeing all these fantastic characters finally grasp the peace they’ve been fighting for all this goddamn time. Takasugi being pulled back to the light by the family he never realized he had, the Joi Four’s reunion, Nobunobu’s heart-breaking sacrifice, Katsura carrying Shigeshige’s dream onward in respect of his fiercest foe and closest friend, Tama embracing her humanity and driving me to tears in the process, Shinpachi taking a million levels in badass and becoming the samurai he always had the potential to be, Gintoki holding his family close and facing down his greatest foe with them by his side, Edo’s entire population coming together in its defense... this was a season of triumph and victory, of completeness and reunion, of hope and actualization, of the entire world of Gintama embracing this new possibility and finally giving everyone the chance to become their best selves, to shake of the pains of their past and come together as one utterly spellbinding family. Watching it unfold was nothing short of magical.

And then, of course, Kagura. Motherfucking Kagura, who has torn my heart in two and mended it stronger than ever too many times to count. Who finally faced down her demons on the war-torn landscape of Rakuyo, the bastard of a brother who tore her family apart, and all the fears and regrets clawing at the back of her mind... and rose above them like a phoenix, finally breaking free of the shell of pain she’d been festering in and pulling her family- both her families- back together. There’s no way else to describe it; seeing this radiant, spectacular girl finally bring her story to a close, finally rise above her darkness and bring peace to her turbulent life, was nothing short of a religious experience. It wasn’t just the best moment in the entire show, it was the kind of emotional resonance that shakes you to your core and leaves you out the other side feeling purged of your sins. At this point, Kagura is legitimately my second-favorite fictional character of all time, just behind Asuka Langley Soryu in terms of how massive an impact she’s had on me. I love her with the kind of impossible, all-encompassing love that words can never do justice to. She has driven me to tears of all emotions too many times to count, left me with too many unforgettable memories to recall all at once. She is everything wonderful about this show wrapped up in a single bratty miracle, and there’s nothing about Gintama that I’m going to miss more than her.

Gintama astounds me. It defies my ability to properly process it. It should be illegal for any fictional property to stay this good for this long, only getting better and better as it goes. Yet somehow, Sorachi, Sunrise, Bandai Namco, Tomokazu Sugita, Rie Kugumiya, Takahiro Sakurai, and all the rest have pulled it off. They’ve created something not just great, not just masterful, but something truly special, something that will endure and last in my mind far after I finally bid this series goodbye. I have cheered and laughed and cried along every single step of this journey from start to finish, and I will continue to cheer and laugh and cry when the time comes to finally bring this adventure to a close. So until then, thank you, Gintama. For all the memories, all the experiences, and all the wonderful, wonderful poop jokes. And for seeing this journey almost to its end, for bringing peace to a universe of people who all deserve it so fucking much, I award Season 4 a score of:

10/10

Mutsu finished the last third of her eighth portion of rice with a single bite and put down her bowl. Despite the huge amount of food she had just consumed, no one around her batted an eye. After so  many years, everyone in the Kaientai was used to the amount of food a yato like her could eat in one sitting. Maybe if Sakamoto was a penny-pinching man he would complain about the costs of it, but so far it had never bothered him.

“Thank you for the food” she said to Oyama, one of the crew members working at the kitchen, and who had helped her serve her meal. Oyama began the task of cleaning up the table, and Mutsu was helping him stack plates on top of each other. At that moment, Aikawa, who was in charge of everything going on at the kitchen, came in carrying a box full of vegetables that were to be used for that night’s dinner.

“Oyama-kun, is this yours?” Aikawa asked, gesturing to a heart-shaped box adorned with a golden bow.

“Ah, that?” Oyama said, with a visible blush on his face. “Yeah… I received it from Akane-san for Valentine’s Day”

“So Akane-chan is into you, huh” Aikawa laughed before resuming her duties. “Have you thought about what you’ll give her next month?”

“I asked Hosoda and he suggested getting her white chocolate, but I don’t know how to make it myself so I’m probably going to buy it.”

“Well, if you get the ingredients maybe I can help you,” said Aikawa with a warm mother-like tone. Oyama’s blush deepened, but he accepted the offer with a polite nod. “Akane-chan is a very sweet girl, be sure to treat her right.” Changing her focus to the vice-captain, the older woman smiled “What about you, Mutsu-san? Do you celebrate Valentine's Day where you’re from?”

“No, or at least not that I know of” Mutsu replied. “I only learnt about it after meeting Sakamoto. I don’t really know what’s the point of it.”

“Oh well,” began Aikawa, speaking calmly as she set up a big pot for use. “If we look at it in a realistic way, it’s just an excuse to sell chocolate. But it can also be the day when someone gathers the courage to make their heart be heard. Personally, I like to see things the more romantic way, I love how this season can quite literally bring out the sweetest sides of people.”

“I see...” Mutsu replied, not sure she completely got it yet. Having finished the task of helping Okawa with cleaning, Mutsu excused herself from the kitchen to go to the control room, where she found Sakamoto overlooking their route back to Edo, already their third visit there this year.

Normally, the Kaientai didn’t visit Earth so often, but after the end of the war they had been helping with the reconstruction of Edo, mostly by using Sakamoto’s business skills to better their relationship with other planets. Because of this, they had to come back often so they could report back and discuss future strategies, but Mutsu was sure he also wanted to enjoy the extra time with his longtime comrades.

Not that she really minded. She wasn’t familiar with the idea of having a planet to call home — her place was always in space, but she had grown to appreciate Edo and the people there. Even before the war, she had already worked with Gintoki and Katsura, as well as their teams. The girl that Gintoki had taken under, Kagura, was very adamant in showing Mutsu around Edo, and the two had become close.

Besides the Yorozuya and the Joui faction led by Katsura, through the reconstruction meetings she was now familiar with some of the people working with Nobunobu, like the Mimawarigumi and a handful of officials who had been there since Shigeshige. Takasugi’s Kiheitai also took part, giving Mutsu the chance of knowing them better than she’d had the chance back when they were to Rakuyou.

“We’ll land in approximately two hours” said Tanisaki from his seat next to the ship’s controls. Standing right in the middle of the control room, Sakamoto laughed but was interrupted by a wave of nausea. Mutsu stood next to him, overlooking the rest of the crew there, smiling to herself and looking forward to this visit to Earth.

“...we’ll meet again as soon as Sakamoto comes back with their response,” said Katsura, closing off that day’s meeting.

“Ahahaha in that case I guess it’s time for some drinks, right Kintoki?” Sakamoto said to the man sitting to his left, who always looked like he would rather be anywhere but those meetings. No one seemed to pay much attention to them except for Katsura. The rest of the attendees were already used to the three of them acting like idiots, and had better things to do than engaging with them — except for the new shogun, who they sometimes managed to drag along with them.

Mutsu left the room and walked to the exit without a hurry. She could hear Sakamoto’s laugh fade off as he left with Gintoki and Katsura. The trip to the planet they were set to visit was almost a week long, but she didn’t feel like dragging her captain back to the ship just yet. The weather in Edo was finally warming up and she wanted to enjoy it for a little longer. Maybe Kagura could take her to good places to eat.

“Wait!” she heard someone calling for her.

Turning around, she found one of the members of Takasugi’s Kiheitai, Kijima Matako. Mutsu didn’t know much about her, as they had only spoken on a few occasions during these meetings. While they were nowhere near close, Mutsu found her presence to be enjoyable.

“I know it’s a lil’ late but I, uh…” Matako looked down and held her hands in front of her, offering Mutsu a small red box with a white ribbon tied around it. “I don’t really have any experience with confectionery but, I… hope you’ll like it.” Even though Matako had turned to the side trying to hide the blush on her face, Mutsu could still notice the red color on the tips of her ears.

Not sure about what to make of the situation, Mutsu took the box and was thinking of how to politely accept the gift, but didn’t get the chance to. “Well I’ll… see you around.” And with that, Matako left, walking fast so she could catch up with her commander and the other two men accompanying him, already a good distance ahead on them on the same direction Sakamoto and the others had taken not that long ago.

Now alone, she carefully untied the ribbon that kept the box closed. Removing the lid, she found an array of a dozen heart-shaped bombons, some with simple patterns made with different kinds of chocolate on them. Mutsu stood there for a while, looking at the content of the box. It wasn’t every day that something took her by surprise — she was used to the unexpected and all sorts of strange things. But this was something she’d never imagined.

It can also be the day when someone gathers the courage to make their heart be heard, she thought back to Aikawa’s words. Matako had given her this so she could hear what was inside their heart?

But doesn’t her heart belong to her commander?, a voice in Mutsu’s head asked. At least that had been the impression she got when meeting them in Rakuyo. If she compared Matako’s reaction back then to how Mutsu would’ve acted if it had been Sakamoto in Takasugi’s place, they seemed to be coming from different kinds of affection. But maybe she had just gotten the wrong idea. Or maybe things had changed over the past year. With every other thing in the universe changing at a fast rate, was it unthinkable that feelings could develop and evolve in a similar fashion?

The present she had just received told Mutsu that, at the very least, she had somehow managed to occupy part of Matako’s thoughts, and that it was strong enough that it prompted to act on them at a time mostly associated with romantic love. How serious or how deep were Matako’s feelings, she had no way to know just from the chocolates. However, according to what she’d heard earlier in the kitchen, she was now supposed to give a response.

What was her response exactly, though? She would be lying if she said Matako had been crossing her mind on the daily. She had thought of her a couple of times while thinking about Edo during space trips, despite the fact they hadn’t talked much or spent time together outside of these meetings.

Mutsu pondered about how she felt towards the other woman as she walked through Edo, not following any path in particular and just letting her feet take her anywhere they wanted. She soon found herself at the port, the changing colors of the water as it moved and reflected the sun helping her clear her mind.

Matako was the only woman in the Kiheitai, and one of the few people Takasugi —a man that Sakamoto respected deeply— seemed to trust. Just like Mutsu, she was skilled with the use of guns, always carrying two out of fashion pistols with her. She dressed in a less traditional way than anyone else she had met from Earth, making her stand out. Mutsu was certain there were people that saw her and shook their heads in disapproval, but Matako didn’t seem to care. She was comfortable and paid no mind to what strangers’ opinions were. Being honest, Mutsu found this attitude to be attractive.

Also, despite the roughness she usually carried herself with and all her attempts at appearing intimidating, Mutsu could tell she was rather gentle on the inside. One of the occasions it showed through was every time she bickered with Kagura. Despite constantly calling the young girl a brat, a sister-like warmness was almost tangible under her annoyed tone, and a small smirk appeared every time she was called Makko — the nickname Kagura had given her.

When visualizing Matako in her mind, Mutsu saw her with the playful grin of someone who was proud of their position and almost dared anyone to try her, sharp eyes taking everything around her with caution, crossing her arms in front of her but with her hands ready to jump into action at any moment. But she also saw her softening up when her eyes met with one of the other members of the Kiheitai, with a care that exposed her attachment to them, grown over the years they had spent together as comrades if not as family.

Maybe she was being selfish, but Mutsu found herself wishing that she could make Matako light up in a similar way, make her lower her guard and show her all the affection she was willing to give to those who were dear to her. She wanted to get to know Matako better and discover more of what else was behind her furrowed eyebrows. Maybe she would slowly get attached to her like she had to Edo the more she explored its streets.

She opened the red box again, smiling at the sight of its contents. Taking out one of the bonbons, she bit into it, taking her time to taste the dark chocolate shell and the caramel filling. Mutsu felt warm inside and closed her eyes to focus only on the treat. While it was obvious this wasn’t the work of a professional chocolatier, the effort that had been put into it was evident. It may not have been made by expert hands, but if it was conveying what laid within Matako’s heart, Mutsu wanted to taste more of its sweet bliss in all of its flavors.