"Toshi! C'mere!" Kondo's voice rang out cheerfully.
Hijikata briefly considered pretending not to hear him and continue nursing his hangover, but gave up on that train of thought. When his commander called, he went. It was ingrained in him.
"What is it, Kondo-san?"
"I kept forgetting to return this to you. Thanks for your concern, but everything turned out fine. Man, that Black Horoscope! I suppose it's thanks to your scarf and Sougo's fundoshi that Tottsan and I managed to escape getting killed by the higher ups, but damn it nothing else went right! I managed to bump into Otae-san after that and ended up hitting her on the head. You know why? Because of a rock! A tiny little rock on the path that tripped me up! I mean, what are the chances? I managed to meet Otae-san, and the whole thing was ruined because of a rock. I let her beat me up after that, because haha, you know what they say about women, she's just playing hard to get because she's shy. I'm sure she was secretly happy to see me. And anyway today's Black Horoscope says red's my unlucky colour, so I figured I'd better return you your scarf and Sougo his fundoshi at once. Do you know where he is?"
"Haven't seen him the whole day, he's probably skiving somewhere. Anyway, keep the scarf. Just put it somewhere else for today, keep it until red's your lucky colour again."
"I think you should take it back."
"What for? I gave it to you."
"And I'm giving it back. Take it, Toshi."
"... Fine." Not wanting the conversation to last any longer, he grabbed the scarf, shoved it into his pocket and took leave of his commander to go on his rounds.
Damn the sun. Damn the light. Why the fuck did the sun have to rise today, of all days? He was having a goddamn hangover, couldn't the sun be more considerate? The late afternoon sunshine was piercing. There were people having hangovers on earth, damn it. Stop shining so brightly. The sun could at least have to consideration to- Oh nevermind. He had work to do. Work was all he had to concentrate on. Yes, work. He lit a cigarette and took a long, deep drag. He let it out, and felt marginally better. He checked the time. Good. His favourite drinking hole would be open by the time he finished his rounds. Hair of the dog to cure his hangover. Or at least get so wasted he could forget about the stupid scarf. Yes. He needed a drink. Or two.
And he drank.
He contemplated the red scarf on the counter moodily. Damn it. He didn't want it back. A painful reminder of her carefully choosing the best wool she could get, the most expensive red dyes she could afford. The weeks she spent fussing, trying to get everything right while he pretended not to notice. Make sure you keep yourself warm in Edo, she said. Take care of yourself, she said. Don't go too wild when fighting, she said. She should've taken her own damn advice. Not the fighting bit, obviously, but everything else. Always putting bottles of Tabasco into her food even though it was obviously not helping her illness. Why did she keep on doing that? Seriously, what was she thinking? At least he had the sense to leave mayonnaise out of his drinks. She put spices and chilli into everything. Really. What was she thinking?
"Master, another," he slurred.
"Sir, you're not driving, are you?"
"S'what if I am?"
"I'll need to keep your keys, sir."
"D'fuck?"
"I can't let you drive in that condition, sir. It's the law. As you should know, sir." The bartender gave his uniform a meaningful look.
Grumbling, Hijikata searched his pockets for the patrol car keys. He found them, fumbled, and dropped them.
"Fuck," he muttered, and tried to pick them up. Someone beat him to it.
"Why the hell are you drinking in your uniform? And is that a patrol car I saw parked outside?"
"Why the fuck are you here?"
"Just passing by. Coincidence. Movement of the cosmos. Make up your own reason, take your pick. Haven't you had enough to drink?"
"Fuck no," Hijikata tried to snarl. He thought he tasted bile.
"Master, he's had enough. Send the bill to the Shinsengumi headquarters, I'll drive him back."
"Go away, Yorozuya. Don't need your stinkin' help," was all he managed before puking all over Gintoki's boots.
"You're buying me a new pair. Here. Water. Drink. Now lean on me and walk. Walk. Yeah that's it. C'mon, we're getting you home."
"Scarf," Hijikata mumbled and clumsily grabbed it from the counter, letting it trail on the ground while they walked. "Did I tell you? On the hospital roof? She made it. For me. Before we left. Told me to keep warm. Take care of myself. She should've... should've... Sougo. She made a fundoshi. For Sougo. Red. Why would she do that? Why a red fundoshi? He was just a kid. Still is a kid. He's too young for red underwear. Too young to lose his family. Too young to kill. Too young for all this crap. Why'd she have to die anyway, huh? Why'd I keep the stupid thing? I gave it to Kondo-san ages ago. Why'd he give it back after all this time? I don't want it. Don't want to look at it. Don't want to be reminded of her. Can't throw it away though. Tried. Failed. Kept it in my pocket. Couldn't get rid of it. Couldn't step over it. Or leave it behind. What'm I gonna do with it?" His eyes focused on Gintoki's face. "Oh I say. Yorozuya. You keep it, k? I'm giving it to you. Aren't I generous? Giving it to you, you hear me? I don't want to see it anymore. Ever. Ever again. So you take it. K?"
Gintoki dumped Hijikata unceremoniously into the passenger seat of the car. "Listen to me, you damn drunk, and listen good," he hissed. "I'm not gonna let you pretend she never existed. I'm not gonna let you pretend to forget. But I'm not gonna let you drink what time your disgusting diet's left you away either. You've got a job to do. You've got something to protect. So do it. Protect it. I'll take the scarf. But if you think that means you'll never have to see it again, you're so wrong. Every time you see me, you're gonna see the scarf. You hear me? I am not going to let you pretend to forget." Hijikata looked at him blearily, probably comprehending less than half of what he'd heard.
Gintoki let out a frustrated sigh, and slammed the car door shut. He leaned against the car, touching forehead to roof, and sighed yet again.
"Why am I wasting my breath on a drunk?" he muttered. "On such a cold night too." He raised his head and looked at the red scarf he was holding. After a slight pause, he wound it around his neck and trudged over to the driver's seat.