Author's Note: I'm here again! I would like to thank Kintoki Kin for reviewing the first chapter of this fanfic. I hope I don't disappoint you. :D
Reviews are warmly welcomed so review!
Warning: OOCness. Too much drama. Weird sense of humor. Stuff like that.
Disclaimer: Gintama belongs to its genius mangaka Sorachi Hideaki-sensei. I only own the plot and OCs of this fanfic.
Chapter 2 – There is a Fine Line between Seriously Amusing and Amusingly Serious
Yukiko sighed heavily. Arguing with this guy was pointless. Why she picked him up on the streets a while ago, she'll never understand. Well, she found it difficult to comprehend herself. She could never fathom why she concerned herself with other people. All she had to do was ignore them, but that usually sent a knot in her stomach, only to be untangled when she was able to at least ask them if they were alright. Just like the case today.
In addition to her predicament was this man's weirdness. His eyes were always closed as if he was blind, and except for their argument, his smile never left his face. She was fine with smiling people (in fact, she likes them), but his smile made her cringe. She found his smile eerie, sinister even, as if plotting everyone's death was his hobby. From a normal point of view, he appeared harmless, but his aura radiated something eerily evil, like an individual who rejoice at the sight of blood pouring around the people he had just hurt, or worse, killed.
Not only that, his skin was too pale—paler than her anemic mother—for a normal person. He also had purple umbrella blocking the sunlight when she approached him. It was perfectly understandable since today was a hot day, but did he fear the sun so much that he had to cover his whole body with those bulky clothing and, at the same time, have an open umbrella with him? Or did he just do that to keep his complexion the way it was?
And his hair, salmon pink in color and braided, was definitely odd. Was this the latest fashion trend for men nowadays? That she'll never know, for she had always been the old-fashioned lady in a house of trendy individuals—preferring simple-patterned traditional kimonos over the short, one-sleeved kimonos that her sisters had. (Not that her parents offer her those, though.)
And then…what was this guy's name? She talked to and argued with him (and even treated him food) without even knowing his name. How weird things could get?
Yukiko cleared her throat. "Can I ask you something?" she began.
"Hmm?" he turned to her.
"I do suppose you know my name, right?"
He shook his head and paused for a moment before laughing. "Just kidding," he said. "Yukiko, wasn't it?"
"Yeah," she agreed then shifted from her seat, facing him. "Since I gave you my name, albeit indirectly, give me yours."
"Kamui," he answered causally, not moving an inch from his seat.
She raised an eyebrow. "Kamui…"
"Kamui."
"No surname?"
He nodded his head. "Just Kamui."
"Well then, I shall address you as Just Kamui-san."
"Just Kamui-san?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Just Kamui-san," she repeated.
Kamui smiled. This girl is amusing. If she plans to play a game with him, he will be more than happy to participate. "Is that so?" he mused. "I shall call you Yuki-chan then, yes?"
"But we aren't close."
"Are you sure?"
He picked up and moved his chair, closing its distance with her chair. "Here, we're close now," Kamui said, sitting down.
Her face turned blank. "Yeah right," she uttered. This guy's sense of literalness is something beyond my reach, mused Yukiko.
"Says the girl whose sense of literalness is way higher than mine," he retorted.
"Hey! Yours is much higher!" she protested.
He shook his head disapprovingly, frowning. "Yours is."
"Nah, yours is," she insisted. "Who in the right mind would take 'close' as sitting beside each other?"
He faced her, his furrowed eyebrows contradicting his smiling face. "And who in the right mind would call some 'Just XXX' just because they don't have a surname?"
"It was you who told me your full name was 'Just Kamui'!" she claimed. "I can't just call you Kamui, and certainly will I not call you 'Just', so addressing you by your full name should be okay."
"And you say you don't take things literally," he remarked. "How ironic."
She glared at him. This guy…
Then a chuckle came from Kamui. "What?" she grumbled.
"Nothing," he denied playfully.
"Keep telling yourself that."
"Sure," he answered.
With that, Yukiko sighed heavily once again.
Minutes later, the food came. Smoothly and swiftly, Wakana handed Yukiko a bowl of ramen and served Kamui several plates and bowls, all of them filled with freshly cooked mouth-watering dishes, ranging from ramen, chao fan, etc.
Upon setting her eyes on the meal she had to pay, Yukiko felt an urge to cry.
Don't tell me I have to pay for all of those?
Am I dreaming?
She slapped herself. Not working.
Again.
Still there.
And again.
Still not working. Her right cheek turned red from the numerous slaps she did. However, contrast to what she expected, she was still there, sitting on a chair close to Kamui with a bowl of steaming hot ramen in front of her.
I guess I'm not.
Reality was, indeed, full of horrors.
Yukiko tearfully opened her wallet, as if she was facing doom, pulled out a couple of bills (the meal costed ¥xxxxxx) and, with shaky hands, handed them to Wakana.
Yukiko was about to walk away when Wakana gripped her shoulder.
"Yes, Wakana-san?" she asked, her eyes gloomy and her eyebrows furrowed.
"That man is the one for you," Wakana whispered, winking to Yukiko.
Yukiko's eyes widened. "You're kidding, Wakana-san."
"Am not, Yukiko." Wakana waved her index finger, shaking her head. "Been one of the best love fortune tellers ever since then…"
Yukiko excused herself from Wakana's probably long story (or rant, whichever you prefer) and then walked away. At a distance, she heard Wakana say, "Bring that guy with you here sometime."
You just want profit, she grumbled inside.
"She's right, Yuki-chan," said Kamui, leaning his back on the wall and his leg blocking the way out. "Let's go here sometime."
"Nah," she skipped from his leg. "I don't want to end up broke."
Kamui pouted, rushing to Yukiko's side. He placed his umbrella under them, shielding them against the sun's striking heat. "It's hot, no?"
"Yeah," Yukiko groaned.
"You alright?" inquired Kamui, bending to get a clear view of Yukiko's face.
"I'm broke. How could I be alright?" answered Yukiko, glowering at Kamui.
"I told you I'll reimburse you someday."
Yukiko snorted. "As if that will happen."
"You don't trust me," Kamui said, dramatically clutching his chest and faking sobs. "I'm hurt."
"I'm the one who's hurt here!" Yukiko complained. Then she took a deep breath. "How you survived in the streets by yourself with that big appetite of yours, I shall never know."
"I had a companion with me when I came here," he said, kicking the sand beneath his feet.
Yukiko turned to Kamui. "And I assume he got tired of you so he left you here?"
"Quite the opposite actually," he said. "I was the one who drove him away."
"And he complied happily?"
"More like fearfully."
"I'm not surprised," she remarked. "That sinister smile of yours gives way to fear."
"Mean." He moped.
Yukiko shook her head. "I'm not mean. I'm plainly telling the truth."
"It hurts."
"Blame truth for being painful."
"Can I kill it?"
"Not even the strongest man can kill it. You can alter, escape from, deny, laugh at or scorn it—you can practically do anything about it—but you can never kill it. It exists since the ages," Yukiko explained.
"You said I can practically do anything about it, didn't you?" Kamui asked.
Yukiko nodded her head and regretted it later.
"Then…" Kamui began.
He took a deep breath.
"I HATE YOU, TRUTH!" he screamed.
All eyes were on the two of them. Kamui had a satisfied smile on his face, seemingly unaware of the weird stares they're receiving from the people around. A mother told her child not to look at them when the little child asked what they (Yukiko and Kamui) were doing. The women sitting by the glass window of the cake shop giggled behind their colorful, intricately designed fans. One man spat on his drink.
Yukiko could only sigh and rub her temples in deep shame.
"Kamui-san, aren't you taking this a little too literally?" she asked.
"But it is seriously amusing!" Kamui said, a big smile plastered on his face as if he had successfully pulled off a prank on someone for the first time.
"And you're being amusingly serious about this," Yukiko said.
"Is that a compliment?" Kamui asked.
"Who says that's a compliment?" Yukiko said, walking away. She paused before tossing her wallet to Kamui, who caught it like a professional baseball player.
"Take that as a souvenir of your stay here," she said.
But when Kamui opened it, there were a couple of coins inside. He smiled.
"And you say we aren't close."