Of widows and unfaithful wives
The powerful sun may actually be as impish as the moon. Or the bastard behind him.
Hello. This is my first fanfic (ever), I er, don't really know what to say. Hopefully you don't get bored with this. This is, hopefully, a chaptered fic, and the first chapter is set in their childhood as Shouyo's students. They're probably twelve here, and brimming with hormones haha. erm. okay.
Rating this M (?) for language. These guys have potty mouths, I swear.
Of course, Gintama and all its rights belong to Sorachi-gorilla-sensei and everyone indicated in every contract he's signed.
"Hey Zura, why am I with you again?"
"It's not Zura, it's Katsura."
The sun is starting to hide low on the horizon, blanketed by wispy strokes of feather-white clouds. Katsura is walking ahead of a slouching Gintoki: two able-bodied boys carrying firewood for their neighborhood granny. The white-haired boy trudges determinedly behind his long-haired companion, always keeping at least three steps' worth of space away from the annoying brat in front of him. Katsura looks back at his schoolmate, brows furrowed in annoyance. He releases a small sigh and then continues looking up front, shoulders not showing any hint of exhaustion from carrying a large bundle of chopped wood in his arms.
"What? And you haven't answered me yet, oi. You should've volunteered someone else to play mule with you."
"What are you-" Katsura's voice was sharp. Oh. He forgot about the boy's previous question.
"Gintoki, a samurai's duty involves helping the weak. Maybe you should stop sleeping in class so that you don't keep missing the important stuff."
"Oi, you insufferable bastard, I know all the important stuff. And dragging someone unwilling to slave away with them is not something sensei would say," Gintoki retorted. "Are you going to pay me for this? I want five plates of dango."
Katsura had to sigh again. He really wanted to hit the brat but picking up firewood after a possible scuffle would be terrible. Besides, having a good look at Gintoki's arms wrapped around the rough wooden shards squeezed his heart with guilt. The other boy is an incurable slob, but there is no doubt that he was right. He did feel guilty for rudely waking Gintoki from his blissful sleep underneath a school yard tree. Seta-kun and other schoolmates were in immediate reach as well. Young Katsura wondered why he asked this lazy slob to help him.
Maybe because it always fascinated him when sunlight kisses Gintoki's wavy, silver hair. He usually finds excuses to drag the boy outside their dojo. Taking a quick look-see behind him, he feels a wave of fluffy butterfly wings in the pit of his stomach- the usual silver is glowing orange, the waves and curls showing him many different shades. He noted how the peak of the curls are almost blinding white, lightly tinted with gold. The depressions remind him of syrupy honey. For a moment, he thought he saw sparks in Gintoki's half-lidded eyes. Katsura quickly faces forward again, because he can feel an uncomfortable warmth on his cheeks. If this bastard saw his face, he'll never hear the end of it.
It's ridiculous, even for him, but the powerful sun might actually be as impish as the moon. And the bastard behind him.
"Oi! Have you gone deaf? You really should throw away that wig of yours if it's covering your ears!"
"I'll buy you one." Softly, quietly, Katsura's voice broke free.
Gintoki thought he misheard what the boy said. "Huh?"
Head facing the road in front of him, he said, "I'll buy you one plate."
"You're still a tightwad," was the answer from behind. The words were spoken by smiling lips.
They put away their load in the corner of the small yard, wiping sweat from their brows. The grateful and kindly old woman came shuffling out of the quaint home, offering them perfect-looking onigiri.
"Please have these for your troubles, future-samurai-san," she said with a very warm smile. Katsura and Gintoki looked at each other before diving into the plate. Plum onigiri. He loves plum onigiri. The particular one he's eating reminds him of his grandmother. He feels a sense of pride when he realizes that he can live by her, and sensei's words. She used to be her only family and she taught him to find happiness in the simplest of things. He never knew of prosperity, or of what other people call prosperity. Material things, a lavish lifestyle. As far as he is concerned, they were blessed with the abundance of things that other people are without.
His fond recollection was cut off by Gintoki's sudden remark. "These are good," he mumbles while chewing a mouthful of rice. "But I like yours waaaay better."
Katsura was scandalized. He looked around for the old lady and is relieved to discover that she's inside the house, oblivious to Gintoki's insensitive comment.
"W-what are you saying?! If granny heard you.. Well, thankfully she didn't hear you!" he blabbered frantically. He felt his face grow hot from embarrassment.
Oh, I'm blushing, aren't I?
Katsura quickly looked away from the offending creature; stared hard into nothing and forced himself to think about ducks. Ducks are good. Not good.. like onigiri.. no, that's not helping. It's shameful how happy he is at the moment.
"So you like widows, huh?" Gintoki's voice managed to push through his garbled thoughts.
He looked at the other boy questioningly.
The white-haired boy never breaks his eye contact, his face passive. Katsura is lost for words, and more importantly, an answer, as he replays the question in his mind over and over again.
Is he talking about granny? Is she a widow? What does he mean by "like"? Like, like Oogushi-kun likes Souko-dono? I find this quite offensive, he thought.
Gintoki raises a finger and Katsura's eyes follow the length of his arm, to his closed fist, to the extended index finger, and finally to the object of concern.
It was a woman in a pale kimono, gathering dry sheets from the clothesline. Granny's neighbor. The widow who occasionally visits their school to give them some fruit. Katsura doesn't even know her name.
What horrible misunderstanding. But he does realize that he did look at her direction for far too long. Looked at her but did not see her. He was too busy trying to get rid of the redness in his face.
This is a bad situation, he declared. The object of his troubles(occassional affections) somehow thinks that he likes older women whose husbands are no longer in their lives. He can almost hear the gears in his head whirring to get him out of this predicament. If the entire class learns of this "preference" of his, he'd be the subject of childish tauntings for a while. He can already see Gintoki eliciting laughter at his expense that he'd gladly beat up the grin off his face, no matter what sensei's punishment might be.
"N-no! How did you end up with that conclusion?" he exclaimed, blushing furiously.
"Ah! Zura's got himself a crush! You look like a boiled crawfish, maybe she likes boiled crawfish," Gintoki teased with a mocking grin.
Katsura fumed. He's not exactly angry that he's being paired up with a woman. He's angry because he's being paired up with a woman by this bastard. There is a sinking feeling in his chest but he doesn't have the time or attention to acknowledge it. He was about to give the brat's head a good knocking (to awaken some decency lying comatose inside) when the old lady came out of the house to give them a small basket of oranges. "Future-samurai-san, it's getting dark so you should probably return to Shouyo-sensei. Take this with you as thanks."
The two boys thanked her, Katsura bowing politely, and set off towards home. The sky is now painted with dark orange, the setting sun casting their long, black shadows on the dusty road in front of them. They walk in silence, the sound of their straw sandals mingling with cicada song. Gintoki falls back a little, making a little sidestep to the right so that his shadow walks in front of him, not Katsura's back. He shifts his focus on his companion's hair as it sways left and right along with the rhythm of his steps.
"I don't have a crush on that lady," came a voice in front of him.
Gintoki couldn't help but smile. He doesn't understand why it pleased him to hear the words, though even he can tell that there is a ring of sadness in the tone.
"We~ll, I might be able to believe you if you stop being a cheapskate and treat me to five plates of dango tomorrow," he grinned.
He was stunned when Katsura whips his head back with such a force, his long ponytail almost slapping its owner's face. "You greedy bastard, are you blackmailing me?!" he screamed incredulously. Gintoki grinned wide. He was strangely elated, and his jaws can't keep up with the happiness bubbling inside him. "He-he, no, not really. But you should pay me too! Granny gave us this while you're getting away scott-free?" he retorted. "Don't you have a heart, Zura?"
Katsura stared at the grinning fool behind him. It took him a moment to realize that Gintoki's face was split in two by a big (adorable) smile. With the sunset on their backs, the white-haired boy's face is darkened by the lack of light, his white teeth glinting with glee. Having caught himself staring, he whipped his head again to the front, clearing his throat before he mutters, "Fine, I'll buy you two plates. But I'll be eating half."
"Tch, meanie. I'd only have one plate then."
Gintoki resumes walking behind Katsura. It's still easy to walk properly while keeping his peripheral vision on the road, despite the impending darkness of nightfall. Completely unconcerned by this habit he has developed recently, he let himself be hypnotized by the swinging black hair, the white nape that peeks out every now and then, and the steadily reddening ears.
Both faces, hidden from each others' eyes, light up with synchronous smiles.
