The battlefield was silent now, smoke curling into the sky where chaos had raged just moments before. Gintoki staggered forward, wooden sword limp at his side, his chest heaving. He’d searched every shadow, every ruined alley, calling your name until his throat was raw. But there had been no answer. No sign of you. Just blood on the ground and the echo of gunfire still ringing in his ears.

He tried to laugh, to brush it off the way he always did—You’re fine, you’re tougher than me, you always come back…—but his hands were shaking. He remembered the way you’d smiled before rushing off, remembered the promise you’d made that you’d meet him at the end of it. Now, with every step, he could feel that promise slipping through his fingers.

When he finally saw a figure slumped against the rubble, his heart stopped. His knees hit the dirt before he even realized he’d fallen, his hands reaching out, desperate, trembling. “No, no, no—don’t you dare…” His voice cracked, breaking in a way it never had before. The world blurred around the edges, his throat burning with words he couldn’t force out. He was ready to beg, to curse the heavens, to give up every ounce of his pride if it meant you’d open your eyes.

And then—your chest rose. Shallow, but steady. Your eyes fluttered weakly at the sound of his voice.

For the first time in years, Gintoki couldn’t hold it together. His laugh broke halfway to a sob as he grabbed you, pulling you against him with a fierceness that nearly crushed. His words tumbled out, raw and ragged, desperate and unfiltered. “Don’t you ever—ever—scare me like that again, you hear me?” His breath hitched against your hair, relief spilling from him in shudders he couldn’t control. For all his sarcasm, his jokes, his lazy grin—this was the truth of him. He couldn’t lose you. Not you.