Disclaimer: 銀魂 © Sorachi Hideaki
There's a war, or two. Maybe more. She can't really remember, after all these years on Earth. She looks pretty much the same, still puny and flat-chested. Boyish knees peeking out of her Chinese dress, hair bound tightly in a thin layer of cloth. No battle scars, because the Yato heal fast.
She squats, leaning her opened umbrella against her shoulder. It still engulfs her in shade - she hasn't grown much at all. Her pale fingers ghost over the names carved into cold stone. A boy she knew a long time ago and his sister, buried side by side. He'd died a hero, a protagonist of his very own adventure, just like he'd always wanted. She carefully places a small offering of sukonbu on the ground and joins her hands together in a prayer - it's been a long time on this planet, she figures there's no harm indulging herself in some of their traditions. If it makes her feel just a little better.
Her feet are falling asleep. She gets up and stretches, wiggling her toes in her worn-out sandals. They're several sizes too big for her even with the heels hacked off, but she ties them to her ankles with ribbon. Unlike the other two, he didn't get a tombstone - they couldn't find his body - but she carries bits of his soul around, like a child and her dead pet hamster. An identical bokutou from the same channel dangling down her back because she's too short to keep it on her waist. His affection for Shounen Jump and sweet winter desserts. His shoes on her feet.
"Well, fancy meeting you here, China." She doesn't have to turn around to see who it is. In fact, she doesn't want to, but a metallic arm shoots out and twirls her around a few hundred times before she comes to a rest and faces her arch nemesis ( it should've been her brother but that one's still a far-off target ). "Oops," he says without meaning it.
She glares at him with some of the spark from before, the kind of spark that rekindles when you meet someone from a distant past. But she recovers quickly - much too quickly for his liking. He frowns, flexing his silver fingers. Losing an arm wasn't that much of a big deal after all, as long as it wasn't by the Vice-Captain's blade because then he'll never be able to live it down. At least now he has an in-built bazooka in his very own body! And it sort of makes him feel like Edward What's-His-Name from that Gangan magazine. ( He's stopped reading Jump since Shinsengumi disbanded. )
"You're old," she observes.
"No shit," he responds drily, but with a smile. Seventeen years is a long time. To be fair, he doesn't look as old as he is - he's always had a youthful face. "Still a midget, I see."
"I'm not a midget! You're the midget!" She hates how a mere sentence from him can reduce her to childish drivel. It's not even true anymore, because he grew up. And got himself a new arm. She doesn't know why it makes her want to cry just looking at it, with the stupid bazooka add-on or the fact that it's his sword-wielding arm. "Wha'ddya think you are, Roboman or something?" she mumbles heatedly and he laughs. Roboman is so yesterday. He's the Evil Super Ultra Robot Overlord!
"Why are you here anyway?" she sniffs, a little haughtily. He raises a bouquet of flowers with his good arm and strides over to the lone gravestone atop the small hill, under the dying cherry-blossom tree. She follows quietly, sandals shuffling against grass. The air hums around them as the sun starts to set. She watches in respectful silence as he fetches a bucket of water and gets down on his knees with a rag in hand, going over the chiseled words with practised ease. She watches as he pours the water over his sister's grave and sets the flowers - lilies - on the ground. She watches as he does not cry.
The setting sun casts an orange glow on everything, and makes her look like she's on fire - red, orange, blue. He's still on his knees when he turns around and asks,
"Have you had dinner?"
Later, they run off without paying the bill because neither of them has enough money.
End Notes: My first Gintama fic! I've been itching to write it for such a long time, but I haven't been able to write anything for months. Also please assume that the Yato age at a much slower pace as compared to humans. Or Kagura's just superhuman, duh.