What Is Left Of Us?

Hey!

First of all, I'm a non-native English speaker, so there might be some mistakes!

I don't know what came over me. Violence, I guess. Hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless!

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They're standing on the steaming ashes of the ruins of their former lives. Nothing remains of those. So many people, now buried under layers and layers of dirt and ashes.

Now that there is no one left, Gintoki would probably have the time to name every single person one by one. He probably still has enough strength to do so. But it is beyond his mind's abilities. There are no words to describe what is going through his head. There are no books left for him to see if such a thing had once existed. It seems like it would be futile, anyway, to try to look for words.

His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, a foreign object obstructing his throat. It is not a suffocating feeling, but it could become so.

If he were to cut his own tongue, Utsuro would be the only one able to talk on earth. But no one would be here to answer. All the other languages were dead now that there were no interlocutors any more.

Though he and Utsuro were not gone yet, Japanese was already a dead language.

Gintoki has no plan to cut his own tongue, but he would not be so bothered by it, as its use seems to be something he does not plan on using any time soon.

Anyway, he is not sure he is still able to produce sounds, he has screamed so much in the past few days, inhaled so much smoke in the past few hours, that his throat feels like sandpaper.

His ears have stopped ringing, but the place is not filled with silence as he would have expected. The fire is still crackling under his feet, gnawing at the last pieces of life left for it to devour.

Gintoki wishes it would have taken him too. Wonders why death seems so adamant on denying him the only thing he has ever wished for himself. Why couldn't he, too, be granted the right of passage? He knew it wasn't about the money, there was no one demanding such a thing upon arrival in the afterlife, at least not where he would be headed for.

He longs for death so much, it is unthinkable that he is still here. It is the highest form of violence. Or is it, really, when he has just witnessed the entirety of his loved ones being annihilated by the man standing metres away from him? There is no hierarchy to violence, not anymore.

It is too much, but he is rooted to his spot. Utsuro has been looking at him for what feels like an eternity, scanning his every move. Gintoki knows that he wouldn't have the time to do anything before the other man would stop him. The other man. It is ironic, somehow, to call him such, when he actually despises their kind. But, then, does it mean Gintoki is the last man standing?

It doesn't feel much like standing. More like hanging by a thread. And he doesn't feel much like a man anymore either. He knows he's alive because of the way his entire being is vibrating with pain, but that is pretty much the only thing that connects him back to existence.

The fire in his eyes has long since been extinguished, but that does not seem to put Utsuro off. He's probably enjoying it, if anything. Enjoying the look of pure death that has taken over Gintoki.

Utsuro is radiant next to him. In the greyish tones that have beset their destroyed world, he is like a beacon of light. Even the grey hue of his hair has a satiny shine in comparison. Gintoki feels like it probably would be the only thing around them that would not feel like dust under his fingertips.

He does not reach for it. He does not move.

Gintoki can't understand why he's still here, why the earth is still partially intact, when Utsuro had so adamantly conjured destruction. Why are they still here, if Utsuro's goal was to destroy and disappear? Or had the other entity taken such a devilish turn that the prospect of bringing Gintoki down had surpassed his very wish to cease to exist?

This was all Gintoki had ever feared, everything he could have possibly seen in his nightmares had become reality. And he was not only forced to witness it, but also to withstand it.

From where he stood, he saw Utsuro turn slightly towards him. Gintoki looked up, the other's eyes meeting his.

'What's left, then, now that we're alone, Utsuro?'

The other man kept on watching him, unmoving. Contemplating Gintoki's figure standing out from the surrounding smoke and rubble.

'Each other', he finally said.

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I don't know what's taken over me, but suddenly I seem to be able to write short fics, and frankly that's so nice to be able to write so quickly, so I'm trying to make the most of it and write down everything that crosses my mind!

Also, I have a playlist with dramatic songs and sometimes I put it on and words usually just come to me, that's what happened here, and I'm quite happy with it, it's always so angsty, I love that! The end is kind of cryptic, but I didn't feel like writing more, and I feel like it's just nice the way it is!

Anyway, don't hesitate to leave kudos and comments, it's always nice to read them and motivates me to write more!