Title: Don't Let the Parfait in Your Soul Turn Soupy!
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Gintoki, Katsura
Pairings: GinZura, if you want to see it that way
Warnings / spoilers: none, apart from their past, but everyone knows that.
Word count: 599
Summary: an accidental meeting with Katsura triggers Gintoki's trip down the memory lane.
A/N: written for Advent challenge for ginzura comm LJ.
Disclaimer: if I owned Gintama or its characters, I would not be writing fics, I would be in my basement having puff-puff action with them!
"Oi, Zura, why don't you go sit at another table? Otherwise people will think we're on a date," Gintoki said.
"It's not Zura, it's Katsura. And this is not the time for jokes, Gintoki. Do you have any idea..."
Gintoki deliberately ignored the rest of the sentence, concentrating on eating his parfait, while Zura prattled on about the future of the country, camaraderie, and something or other about Elizabeth.
Just his usual bad luck, running into Zura on the parfait day. Zura and his bug-eyed pet could make even the sweetest dessert taste bad. Although that day Zura was there by himself.
"Did you lose Elizabeth again or something?" asked Gintoki. There had to be a reason why Zura was so insistent about having a serious conversation.
"Elizabeth is off on an errand," Katsura waved his hand vaguely, and continued the monologue, but Gintoki was suddenly distracted by Zura's hands.
Recollection hit him with a force of a rampaging gorilla. Ages ago, during one of the battles Zura caught his fingernail on a helmet of one of the Amanto and ripped half of the nail right off. It was not funny as such, but Zura breaking his self-imposed rules of conduct and yelling expletives was. And his finger was black and blue for weeks afterwards.
And look at his nails now – all shiny and pink like he had just come out of a nail salon. Knowing Zura, that might actually be true.
Zura's hair, too, looked like something out of a shampoo advertisement. It was all glossy and smelled so ...fruity that Gintoki could feel it even over the godly scent of fresh parfait. And back in the days, his hair ends were singed, and the hair was choppy from impromptu haircuts with katanas, and there was blood in it, however hard Zura tried to keep it clean.
"It's like Zura is a different person now," Gintoki thought. He almost wanted to demand that Zura undressed here and now and showed whether he still got his battle scars, or they had faded away like every other sign of their past.
Maybe it was good if they had. Zura should move on already. It was not like those were good old days, and it was not like there was anything Gintoki liked to remember about those times.
A sudden pause in Katsura's inspired speech made Gintoki look up. Zura was gazing out of the window at some Amanto bigwigs passing by. People on the streets pretended not to notice, to avoid being accused of giving a funny look and getting in trouble. People on the streets unobtrusively tried to make way, flattening against buildings, but not too fast, not to be accused of running away.
And Gintoki watched Zura, whose serene expression turned sharp and focused, whose eyes narrowed and who clenched the hilt of his katana so tightly his knuckles turned white. Apparently some things about him had not changed at all.
"Stupid Zura," thought Gintoki. "His head so full of ideals and grand plans that common sense can't fit there anymore."
But that was ok, too. At least Zura was not into blowing things up anymore. And if he needed his ideals to go on living, that was all right with Gintoki. Zura being his usual delusional self was troublesome and boring, and yet Gintoki would not want him to die. Not really.
"And, by the way, Gintoki, when will you stop eating that disgusting sweet food? It does not befit a samurai!" Zura said.
Gintoki changed his mind, Zura should really shut up and die after all.
~The End~