Whenever Okita looks at Hijikata, he sees Mitsuba's face.
The mere sight of those stupid v-shaped bangs and meditative blue eyes and perpetually-present cigarette is an automatic trigger for his fucked up mind to pull up familiar images of his dead sister – of her warm smile, hazel eyes, of the reassuring embrace and familiar smell; dozens of other things that are out of his reach now. The captain of the Shinsegumi's first division whips out his bazooka to blow the ghost away (hopefully along with Hijikata as well, he really does want to be vice chief).
Life in Edo is pretty good, and it helps him forget about leaving the village and his sister behind, in failing health and ailing spirits. There's plenty to do here when it comes to keeping the peace, seeing as there's ruffians and homeless drunks aplenty for him to take out his sadistic urges on. Sure they don't pose much of a challenge, but the China girl will there without fail when he's bored – really, he thinks, coincidence is such a wonderful thing. Yet no matter how much he preoccupies himself, the instant Hijikata enters his view the very sad, unwanted remembrances of Mitsuba and her dying smile get pulled to the front of his thoughts.
He hadn't thought it possible for someone's eyes to both soften and harden simultaneously, but that's exactly what it feels like every time. They'll soften when he thinks of his sister, and then turn cold in the next instant as he hardens his heart to stop any tears from welling up. The solid weight of his weapon anchors him to reality; no matter how many times he fires at the mayo lover, nothing's going to change for Mitsuba anyway – her time stopped when she died. The smoke from the blast clears eventually but the frustration he feels does not, and you'd expect Okita to know that after years and years of doing the same thing. What'll it take to make these goddamn feelings dissipate, huh?
It's annoying.
When Hijikata looks at Okita, he sees Mitsuba's face as well.
In the past, when they'd just arrived in Edo from the country, the family resemblance was in some ways a comfort: looking at Sougo's face as he slept helped to strengthen his conviction that his choice was what was best for all of them, because there was no way Mitsuba would have been able to sleep to peacefully by his side like that, given the blood-soaked life he led. Surely, she'd be happy if he wasn't there. Happier than she would have been, in any case. He could tell himself that every night, tell himself that Mitsuba was looking at the same moon as he was and not wishing for him even though it was clearly a lie, but lie he must and lie he would. It helped numb the pain of a requited but unrealisable love.
Here, Hijikata's got his hands full all the time with the Shinsegumi. Kondou's always been an idiot, but really, this is pushing it – what sort of self-respecting police officer would let himself be correctly labelled as a gorilla stalker by practically an entire town? Sougo, too. Getting in scrapes with that Yorozuya brat and racking up massive repair bills for every park, convenience store, and family restaurant within a five-kilometre radius. Not like he can complain, he's thrown in his lot with these people.
Still, it's disarming to stare right into Sougo's eyes just before he fires that cursed bazooka of his in yet another self-proclaimed assassination attempt – meeting those eyes sends an uncomfortable jolt through his body every single time, and he can't help but think of the other pair of eyes he never turned to meet, that night on the terrace. He drowns the bitter taste that lingers in his mouth with regular deluges of nicotine and mayonnaise – the end result is strange, but he swallows it whole.
Savours the burn.
For all their surface antagonism and deep-seated grudges the two of them share a comfortable understanding of each other, and it shows in the birthday gifts they get. Every year without fail Hijikata will be woken on the 5th of May with a morning bazooka blast and find his mayonnaise bottle full of tabasco sauce. The demonic vice chief makes sure to reciprocate the kind gesture when the 8th of July rolls around by replacing Okita's tabasco stash with mayonnaise, and stuffing his stupid bazooka to the brim with sukonbu before sending off on some useless errand near the Yorozuya place.
Because they're nice to each other like that, you know?
And after ten years of the same old nonsense all the hurt and the distances have become swallowed up with time and a different sort of longing, so when they tell each other, very rudely, to
"Go die, fuckface."
"Seppuku, brat. Now."
It's fine, because there's no need to point out that they're lying and yet not – it's practically impossible to distinguish with any degree of clarity where one emotion stops and another begins,and nobody really cares anymore whether they say they hate the other's guts or that they secretly really wanted to be a real family or waste entire weeks arguing over the relative merits of their favoured condiment. So they internally shrug and accept the confusion, and take turns dumping the unwanted portions of their birthday gifts in Kondou's food when he's not paying attention.
Either way, their feelings are mutual.
These people should really get their shit together, Yamazaki thinks, as he watches them and tries not to puke as the Commander shovels his now-toxic meal down his throat. How the hell could he not notice? Or maybe he has, but just eats it anyway, because he's a big softie and he thinks this is what 'tough love' means. As the idiot runs off to vomit in the bushes, looking more simian than ever, Yamazaki mentally files away the suspicion that Okita and Hijikata have spiked Kondou's food with something else, too – essence of gorilla, maybe?
He raises his eyes to the ceiling as an exploding bottle of condiments flies overhead.
A/N: Standard disclaimer applies, I do not own Gintama.
...and can you imagine eating something with both tabasco and mayo on it? gross.