Disclaimer: Gintama does not belong to me.
I´ll pray for your happiness. Tomorrow, not now.
It´s raining. It always rains in Edo this time of year, but he likes to think that it´s always raining when he´s out on a patrol. Rain pours onto his freshly lit cigarette and it changes into a wet mess in his hands. There is no shelter, no roof, no umbrella. He had an umbrella once, where is it? Oh, right. He lent it to her. Damn, it must have been years. Is he really too incompetent to buy a new umbrella? They are cheap today, with those fancy holders and bright colours and patterns that have made them a hit among Edo youth. He tries to imagine himself under one of those and chuckles while trying to force another cigarette to get lit. When did he start smoking? It´s really a bothersome habit. It costs terribly much money, it´s getting harder to buy get cigarettes after all those the governmental restrictions and in winter... Hijikata shivers. Whatever. She would most likely smile, say that she does not care and secretly sprinkle chilli pepper on the whole pack. That was her way to deal with him – a carrot and stick. So much for the tough police officer.
Wait.
Was he thinking about Mitsuba? After all this time? Stop it, he says to himself, knowing too well how hard is it to obey. To stop thinking of a beloved person is like to stop breathing. Or smoking. Yes, he is not mistaken. He started after they left countryside. That dull, dusty village with half-ruined dojo and cute old ladies ready to make him marry Mitsuba as soon as she gets taller than his sword. Is she married now? No, surely not; Sougo would tell him. And, after all, she has always had weak body. Some things did not change even after the war with Amanto, nobody would take a wife that cannot bear healthy children. Is that why she was so sad when he was leaving, because she knew that there will be no other man to marry her? You are such an idiot, he says, this time aloud. She loved you. Yet it´s so hard to accept, that he, Hijikata Toshirou, can be loved. She´s better off without me, he thinks and knows perfectly well that it is just a convenient lie. If he had not lied to himself – back then and now, too – he would have to admit that he longs for her presence, that he misses her smile and voice and whatever is making Mitsuba Mitsuba. And then he would run, not by train nor bus nor plane, by his own legs, he would run to the village and ask her to marry him and then marry her and spend the rest of his life in terrible, unbearable worries. Because he can die anyday, any hour and so can she. He would not bear to see her die.
Damn, why is he thinking about death in first place? There are good doctors in Edo; they might not be able to heal her, but they might prolong her life and make it free from pain, that would be more than enough. And he could resign. There would be no need to sacrifice his life for strangers if he had someone to cherish. He could become a white-collar or a teach in dojo. They would buy a tiny house on the outskirt, somewhere near the river and in the evenings they would watch dragonflies and fireflies. Sougo would visit them once in a while just to see his beloved sister happy. World would be painted gold and green and everything would be perfect.
It´s raining. It always rains in Edo this time of year. Sky has the ugliest shade of grey, exactly the same as everything else around. Edo is grey and huge and dirty. He knows it; he knows it everything. His last cigarette ended unlit in a trash bin. He belongs here, to the violent and messy and rainy city, where happiness and gold glitters of summer won´t find you a job or buy you rice. She would not be happy here and he would not be happy seeing her unhappy. Nothing can be done.
He is out of cigarettes and his whole uniform is wet. He decides to buy a can of coffee in a near vending machine and to scold poor Yamazaki or whoever will dare come near him in the evening, because that is what he always does when it is raining.
I should buy an umbrella, he says to himself and he knows he never will.