And another slash Gintama fic... (clearly, my brain needs cleansing...)
And finally, I've managed to do another one-shot for 10_shakespeare, though it ended like this again... my brain really needs cleansing... --;;;
Title: Crossing someone multiple times in your life has a meaning.
Author: knightblazer13
Fandom: Gintama
Play: A Midsummer’s Night Dream
Lines: “The course of true love never did run smooth.” - Lysander
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 because of Gin/Hijikata slash, yeah. And just because it is Gintama.
Summary: Lame ass introspection one shot thing on the building relationship of Gintoki and Hijikata. Not very canon-accurate, because I have a bad memory. --;;;
The first time they met, they crossed swords on opposite sides. Metal clashed against refined wood as the two faced each other in the inn. Intense, blazing eyes glared against the indifferent, dead fish eyes of the latter. Raven-black hair stood inches away from the natural curls of silvery-white. Hijikata towered over the man on the floor facing him, his wooden blade firmly pushing against his metallic one, a single hand pressing against the might of both of his arms. He was an enforcer of justice; another was an unfortunate passer-by caught up in the event.
“This is a fight,” he had remarked with a smirk, “you should enjoy it.”
The silver-haired man did not respond to that. But briefly his eyes flashed with an old, familiar light that Toshirou knew all too well. Unfortunately, Sogou’s attempt to kill him once again had broken that intense moment - but the vice-commander of the Shinsengumi knew that he wouldn’t forget that shine for a while.
The second time they met, they crossed swords once again. This time, metal clashed against metal once again-but however, only once. The broken blade in Hijikata’s hand fell into two pieces before the man in disbelief, the twin halves clanking against the ceramic tiles of the rooftop. Yet again, he saw that old sparkle in the silver-haired man’s eyes all but a brief second-that second used to break his blade. Toshirou looked in shock as the former samurai threw away the blade that was in his hand and started to walk away, hissing as he massaged the slash wound on his right shoulder that Hijikata had made.
“Why?” he had questioned, “why won’t you kill me? When I just tried to do so?”
The man stopped in his tracks. There was a brief silence before the latter with the natural perm turned around to face and answer him. “Just like you, I’m protecting something important to me. I’ve defended it successfully, so I see no point to continue fighting.” Saying that, he turned back and started to go off once again, his hand still clutching around the wound on the shoulder.
“Then what are you protecting?” Hijikata couldn’t help but ask.
Again, the man turned back at that question, a small smile visible on his lips. “My honor,” came the simple response before returning back on his way down. “See ya.”
As Hijikata later thought back (as he was forced to repair the rooftop he damaged), all he could remember was that light that shined in the latter’s eyes; that shine that he always admired and treasured-the light of a true samurai.
They met many more times after that, in many misadventures, situations and countless other odd things. They tried to nab the underwear thief, got involved in the Terminal incident together, clashed in a battle of food tastes, fought in a cinema and even in the sauna (that was memorable enough). So many times they met each other in the strangest of situations, always fighting or arguing or very secretly, admiring each other of the other’s strength. Toshirou was amazed at the prowess of the diabetic, usually laid-back, silver-haired (former) samurai; the power that he could wield with a mere bokuto-what would happen if he possessed a real blade? Of course, the incident with Takasugi had shown that. Seeing the bodies of Amanto that littered the burning ship in the aftermath, Hijikata could only be glad that such a man like him wasn’t a warmonger like Katsura or Takasugi.
Gintoki, on the other hand, was impressed with the power and potential of the latter. The command that he held, that vigor as well as poise that made people listen and respect him-the face of indifference that matched up to his. They were rivals in everyway - from swordsmanship to food tastes - but they were also unlikely comrades and strangely similar in many ways. If push came to shove, Gintoki knew that they would not forsake each other, despite everything. They both had their honor as samurais, and he was impressed with that. It was what made the Shinsengumi more tolerable than it used to be.
They did not know when, but impression slowly turned into admiration, admiration to friendly rivalry and then concern, worry and finally… compassion-love. They found themselves longing for each other, to be with each other even it was just for a bicker or quarrel, just so long they could see each other, they would be comforted in each other’s presence. Yet with all these strong feelings, neither would admit to the other, feeling insecure-unsure and afraid that the other would never accept this unlikely relationship. So they just kept num about it, and made do with the fleeting glances that they passed to each other to comfort each other, neither never knowing the true feelings of the other - a most ironic situation.
The sixty-third time they met, it was in front of Mitsuba’s house. The woman had fainted moments after seeing the dark-haired man, causing a panicking Yamazaki to quickly whip out his mobile phone and call for a doctor before Okita came back charging like the over-protective younger brother he was. Gintoki carried the woman inside the house, Hijikata trailing behind like a silent shadow, the smoke from his cigarette trailing his path as he went on with his usual look of indifference. Oddly, the silver-haired man never asked any questions, only placing the lady upon the futon before Yamazaki charged in with the doctor. It was only later when the freelancer asked in his usual tone of indifference, but Hijikata never replied.
The sixty-fourth time they met, they battled against a common enemy. In the shipyard, as the sliced car burned in its own oil and fire, Hijikata fainted minutes after the entire ordeal was over before the shocked faces of Kondou and the rest of the Shinsengumi. Gintoki was the one who rushed out and caught the man before he could hit the floor.
“Idiot!” the freelancer half-shouted, a worried look on his face, “you need to go to the hospital…”
“Shut up…” came the manageable response, “why are… you here…?”
Before Gintoki could respond, however, Hijikata had already given in to his exhaustion and blood loss. He blacked out before the frightened, stunned eyes of the Shinsengumi and the silver-haired former samurai.
The sixty-fifth time they met, it was on a chilling night upon the hospital’s rooftop. Toshirou turned as Gintoki emerged from the stairs, his own face weary and tired from all the recent happenings. The officer hastily wiped away the tear streaks on his face with the sleeve of his Shinsengumi coat before the samurai could see it-and probably used it to fun of him. The silver-haired irritation always went to poke fun at him at just about everything.
One hand went to picking his nose while the other scratched a spot on his neck. Gintoki looked as indifferent and disinterested as ever as he walked towards Hijikata. “So, eh…” he started casually, “what cha’ doing up here in such a cold night? It’s bad for your health now, yanno.”
“…as if you cared,” the Shinsengumi vice-commander muttered with a glare towards the silver-haired freelancer. He didn’t want to talk to the man now… not after all of this.
“You don’t have to be so nitpicky now, seesh. I was just asking,” the yorozuya muttered back darkly as well before going quiet. The duo stood there, side by side, both only silently taking in the vision of the other, but never saying anything. The two drank in the tranquil silence-a welcome change from the violence and action hours ago. The moon was round and full and bright, its silvery shine gleaming down brightly on their hair, making Gintoki’s own silvery-white hair shine even further while highlights of bright silver white stood out from the ebony black of Hijikata’s own hair - almost like the former samurai beside him.
Black and white. They were as opposite as that; like night and day, dusk and dawn, the dove and the crow, the moon and the sun, and so many more. One was the direct and equal opposite of the other. Gintoki was the long-forgotten Shiroyasha, the white demon whose fury was like the wrath of a thousand suns as he charged upon the war zone. Hijikata was the infamous demonic vice-commander of the Shinsengumi, the man whose strictness and harsh practices had whipped up the Shinsengumi as they are today; fierce and unstoppable. They were both men of honor, samurais who still honored the old code and held the swords in their hearts firmly. They were different, and yet the same.
Hijikata looked sideways at Gintoki, into the deep maroon of those eyes that turned into a crimson red that shined with bloodshed and war in the thrill of a fight. Every time he had the chance to see the former samurai in battle, he could always see that light sparkling within those deep maroon eyes. They were eyes that spoke of loss and pain, of revenge and anger. A feeling so intense, even Toshirou himself could not understand fully, and will most likely never will. Sakata Gintoki was a man of an enigmatic past, a history lost in the years of instability and loss that nobody would truly know until he spoke of it himself.
“Hn?” went said man as he noticed the gaze on him for the past minute or so, “Is there anything on my face, Oogushi-kun? Chocolate, maybe?”
“Nothing,” replied the latter, and not before adding out of habit, “and its Hijikata.”
“Hai, hai, Hijikata-kun,” the silver-haired samurai went nonchalantly, waving a hand off. “Mattaku… you’re really very picky at times now, yanno?”
“…shut up,” grumbled Hijikata once more as he took a drag from his cigarette, the tip glowed a bright red before he took it off and blew out a fine trail of steam that wisped into nothingness into the cool night sky.
Gintoki was quiet before he finally remarked, “…you really liked her, didn’t you?”
“None of your business,” came back the obvious response. “Not that you cared.”
The natural perm picked his nose nonchalantly for a moment before replying to that statement. “And what makes you think so now, Kuroshiro-kun?”
The new nickname earned himself an elicited glare from the dark-haired man before he snapped back quite unexpectedly. “Because you’re just that damn annoying. And it’s Hijikata.”
“Reminds me of someone,” came back the response automatically, as if it had been rehearsed.
Hijikata glared at the yorozuya once again for a few more seconds, mentally debating if he should ask before he did, despite himself. “And who might that be, yorozuya?”
There was a pregnant pause then. Gintoki did not reply to that, instead opting to continue to stare at the full moon until the latter twitched in irritation before snorting as he threw the last bits of his cigarette down and stamped it out before snorting out, “Forget this. I’m leaving.” Saying that, Toshirou started to turn and head out of this place when a hand suddenly came on his shoulder and firmly spun him back, and Hijikata found himself inches away from the yorozuya, noses almost touching.
“You really want to know, Hijikata-kun?” the natural perm-diabetic asked, a most mysterious gleam in his eyes that burned with an emotion impossible for the latter to register.
“Yes, I do,” the vice-commander growled, “after you let me go,” he added, trying to shrug himself off from the samurai’s grasp, but the freelancer’s grip held firm and strong.
Gintoki leaned even closer, lips inches away before the silver-haired man breathed out the answer to him. “You.”
“What d’you me-” Toshirou started at that, but then froze at once as Gintoki suddenly closed in, closing that last few inches and he captured the other’s lips with his own. Time stopped there and then and all the Shinsengumi vice-commander could feel was the taste of sugar and vinegar in his mouth, the taste of happiness and sadness and of tobacco and strawberries as the yorozuya slid his tongue into the man’s mouth, playfully licking around the hot, spicy cavern of Hijikata’s mouth and teasing the latter’s tongue with his own. Strong, calloused hands ghosted over the nape of his neck, one hand fisting itself into a handful of ebony black hair as the other firmly held the head in place as Gintoki plunged deeper into the kiss, eyelids sealed tight as he relished the moment.
Despite everything, Hijikata found himself responding to the kiss even though the rational part of his mind was screaming at him, all sense of rationality washed away senseless by the sensations that whirled around his brains and made all of his thoughts sink in honey deep. His eyelids slid shut of their own accord, and he found himself moaning at the back of his throat as the former samurai went deep in his mouth, and his arms wrapped around the latter, one of his hands also fisted into the unruly white curls of Gintoki’s hair as he held the man in a crushing embrace. He refused to let go until they finally broke out of that breathtaking kiss, a fine thread of saliva connecting their reluctantly separating tongues followed with a puff of warm, heated air coming out from between the two, smelling of tobacco and strawberries.
The silver-haired man licked his lips, relishing the taste of sugar and spice on his mouth-the taste that was uniquely Hijikata. “So, how was that?”
Toshirou stared at Gintoki in shock as his senses returned to him, stunned at what had just happened His lips were still swollen, and his face slightly flushed from that mind breaking kiss. But the officer quickly composed himself and with a slightly trembling hand (from the cold, definitely not the shock) and took out a cigarette and put it in between his lips, unlit. The flavor of tobacco in his mouth was enough to calm him down somewhat. “Shut up,” grumbled the man once again, now turning to leave this place - he seriously wanted to get away from here now more than ever. “…and don’t bother me, you idiot,” he added with a growl before he stomped away darkly, slamming the door to the staircase as he left.
He leaned against the door, the cool concrete and metal cooling down his heated skin. Hijikata tried hard to think of anything else to distract him-Okita trying to kill him, Kondou stalking Otae, even Yamazaki doing his badminton backhand swings-but try as he might, all that his brain wanted to recall were the taste of those lips, the tongue that coxed him out, the strong hands that grasped him so firmly and most of all, those deep, unfathomable depths of Gintoki’s eyes.
The officer exhaled shakily as his right hand went to palm the lower portion of his face, his mind still in an emotional wreck. “That wasn’t funny at all, damnit…” he cursed the mere memory of that kiss was already beginning to taunt him. “You bastard…” came the quiet mutter before Hijikata could not control himself any longer. Wrenching the door open, he came out into the roof again and crushed his lips once more to a not-so-surprised Gintoki standing in front of him, savoring yet again the addicting taste of tobacco and strawberries.
“Knew you would come,” muttered the silver-haired yorozuya as they broke the kiss, a small smile on his face as he spoke.
“Shut up,” grunted the raven-haired vice-commander before they dove into a third kiss.