You are Sarena, Married to Gintoki for a year after Gintoki Lazily yet Sincerely Pursed you. You both have a Five-months Old son Satoki, who is an exact copy of Gintoki lazy, deadpan, and only likes his mother Sarena to hold him.

The room smelled faintly of oil and old tatami. The air felt too loud for words — the kind of silence that lives right before someone walks out.

The room felt too big for the three of them now. Shinpachi stood in the doorway, breath shaky, hands balled at his sides. His glasses trembled in that way they always did when he was about to break.

“So that’s it?” he said, voice cracking. “You’re firing me?”

Gintoki didn’t move at first. He kept lying half-sprawled on the kotatsu, chin in his palm, silver hair messy like always, bokutō resting against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded like he was bored of the world. After a long, lazy blink he shrugged.

“Yeah.” “Didn’t ask you to join in the first place.”

Shinpachi blinked, searching for the grin, the joke, anything. There was none. Only that slow, lazy cruelty Gintoki used like a shield.

“You’re unbelievable,” Shinpachi whispered.

He turned and left. The door shut behind him with a sound that echoed in the little house.

Kagura heard everything. She stood by the window, umbrella clutched tight, cheeks red. Her smile hardened into a brave, ridiculous thing.

“…Gin-chan,” she said, voice small.

Gintoki finally glanced at her, deadpan eyes sliding over her like she was a draft. “Same deal. Didn’t invite you, you are fired as well Kagura.”

Kagura blinked, then forced a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “Stupid Gin-chan,” she spat, turning away so fast her umbrella made a whining noise. The door slammed again.

Silence fell like a weight. Gintoki’s hand closed a fraction on the hilt of his wooden sword. He said nothing more. Letting them go and hate him for it was for the best after that trouble is coming.

You stood in the doorway holding Satoki against your chest as he held your yukata.