Gintama; Takasugi x reader (Finale) [Take Me With You]

Chapter 16 [Dark side of the Moon]

Earlier

     The sea behaves quite obedient tonight. The moon casts a silvery light along the serene bodies of water, creating a narrow disjointed path to the lunar meant for no exiting soul.

It is a night like this when tides are reduced to gentle sweeps and the sea less aggressive that decent boats can survive by the dock without excessive knots about their cleats. A perfect night to conduct business without undesired eyes and ears to observe and overhear.

A sailor, great in age, settles in the rowing seat of his boat docking by the dock. Surrounding him is the extensive well of water and the lingering fog of late night's breeze. But they nonetheless bother him not.

As a sailor he is, he has sail across seas, float above oceans with tides like tentacles of monsters of depthless waters in harsh weathers. While bearing fame for his bravery and intellectual ways of navigation, the sailor deems himself as none more than an aged man reaching his retirement.

And so, on the rowing seat of his boat, he sits in solitude counting the times the boat rocks when tiny tides carry by. And he waits.

Both his sight and hearing has falter as his age alters them all. But his knowledge of the sea still strives sharp and clear. And so is his knowledge of capable of recognizing the shadow in the distance as no mere shadow at all.

The boatman stands from his position. He makes his way close to the dock before hopping onto the supported wooden planks like it takes no effort. People do often say that he tends to forget his aging wrinkles whenever he's experiencing eagerness. 

The seaman takes tentative steps on the dock. The cries of crickets alter his fainting ability to hear for the sound of footsteps as he squints in the darkness, watching the shadow approaching. He remains still and watchful as whoever is coming nears the dock.

The moon resurfaces from behind a layer of clouds, lending some dim light. The sailor's thin lips lift and he wastes no time to jog to the approaching figure, who halts at the sight of him.

The boatman drops the towering figure in front of him a boisterous bow.

     "Danna," says the sailor, "it is ready."

He looks at figure standing before him, whose face hides beneath a shadow so thick that moonlight isn't sufficient to lighten it.

The figure turns to the direction of the dock, where dozens of boats are tied and scattered along the structure. He recedes a step.

     "Tomorrow," the figure allows. "Same time, same place." And then the elder sailor finds himself blinking at an empty space before him that is occupied a second ago.

He stares in the distance, vagued. For one moment, the old man thinks that he's been speaking to an unearthly spirit, who comes and goes within a blink of the eye. Like ones in children's stories.

But his clear mind knows that isn't the case. He hasn't been conducting business with a spirit or a ghost.

The figure in the distance fades back to be among the living shadows of the night. His identity is unknown, his purpose unknown, even his face. The only knowledge of the enigmatic figure obtainable to the aged sailor is his form. The way he walks.

A gust of nippy wind tears through the silence of the night. It whispers imperceptible messages and warnings to the elder's ignorant ears before flying for the dark moving spot in the distance.

Curiosity thrills the dull mind of the old sailor as he stays and watches the figure disappears completely and becomes one with the essence of the night. Whoever his client is, the aura of his presence cannot be depicted in any of our human language.

And the sailor feels as if he is staring at something one rarely gets to see. Like he is looking at the dark side of the moon.

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Danna = Master