DISCLAIMER: Apparently Santa didn't listen to my request, because Gintama is still not mine. Neither are a Christmas Carol, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas or any of the other holiday-related works referenced in this story.
WARNINGS: Spoilers for the Mitsuba arc. Some reference to death. (But in a Christmas-y way!) Also, if you're one of those people who get irritated when, in English, someone writes a name/title such as Shiroyasha using a "the" . . . .sorry.
A/N: I actually was planning on trying something actually heart-warming and then suddenly . . . I don't know. I don't even begin to know where this came from. Ho ho ho.
I'm Dreaming of a White(-haired, naturally curly) Christmas: pt2
Sometime later, in the dead of night (we can assume Itou came in the dead of, uh, late evening) Scroogikata was awoken by a ghostly, white-haired figure tripping over him.
"Ouch," said the ghostly, white-haired figure. "I thought you'd be in bed sleeping the sleep of the innocents on Christmas Eve, not slumped over your desk in a tobacco-induced stupor like an old, alone, disillusioned man plagued by hemorrhoids. Don't you have any shame?"
"Look who's talking," snapped Scroogikata, and then he really did look who was talking.
"Hey, aren't you the legendary infamous Shiroyasha?" he said in surprise, because that's the kind of person you don't expect to find tripping over you on Christmas Eve. Then he paused. "Wait, am I even supposed to know who the Shiroyasha is?"
The legendary infamous Shiroyasha shrugged. "I was pretty notorious, I guess," he said modestly.
"But . . . I've never noticed that you're actually Gintoki?" Scroogikata continued, confused.
"I don't know," the Shiroyasha confessed. "I haven't really paid close enough attention to the storyline to notice if you've noticed."
"How could I not?" Scroogikata wondered.
The Shiroyasha scratched his head under the dramatically fluttering (even without wind) headband. "Well," he hazarded, "I cut my hair."
"That should not be enough to confuse an entire corps of highly trained policem – and stop sniggering like you don't think we really are highly trained and efficient because we are! I should arrest you right now!"
"No, no," said the Shiroyasha quickly, "That's okay. All that was way in the past so it's totally unimportant now and we should forget all about i– oh wait, no, that's not what I'm supposed to be telling you. Uhhh, what I meant was," continued the Shiroyasha awkwardly, "speaking of the past, I'm here to show you Your Important and Significant Past so that you can remember a time when you weren't such a cold heartless bastard."
"I've ALWAYS been like this, moron," Scroogikata pointed out, fishing out another cigarette.
"You mean there wasn't even like a short time somewhere when you were joyful and gay?"
"You mean gay as in happy?" Scroogikata asked suspiciously.
"Yes."
"No."
"Well, look at these scenes from the past anyway," the Shiroyasha shrugged. "See, here's when you first met Kondou. Ha, you really got the sht kicked out of you, didn't you? And here's, uh, well, you're just standing around . . . Hang on, give me a second to find something better . . . ."
"That's it?" asked Scroogikata dubiously as the Shiroyasha flipped rapidly through Volume Fifteen. "All you're doing is showing me scenes from the manga. And you even wrote in it. Look, it says here 'Gin pwns Hiji' and over here – what's this? Did you actually draw a poo on my head!?"
"That was Kagura, she was exploring her artistic potential," the Shiroyasha said dismissively. Then he seemed to remember that he was a scary harbinger of something or other, so he added, "Woooo".
"Aren't you supposed to at least take me back in time to relive my past?" Scroogikata complained, because he didn't really care if random and stupid things happened to him (he was used to that) he just asked that a little effort be put into them.
"Can I do that?" the Shiroyasha asked interestedly.
"Why are you asking me?! Isn't this your job?"
The Shiroyasha started to clean his ear with a pinky. "Well, actually, I'm just a temp. This morning a sort of white glowy thing came to my office and asked me to fill in for it on a job, but it wasn't very specific. In fact, I'm not entirely sure I'm even supposed to be haunting you. I was just given this book and told to look for the cold-hearted bastard, so I assumed it was you."
"That's me in the manga," Scroogikata pointed out.
"Is it? I can't tell because your hair is different."
"Will you stop obsessing about hair?! I mean, at least you could show me the anime. It's in color."
The Shiroyasha shook his head. "I haven't downloaded Episode 86 yet," he admitted. "Look here, the pretty lady is really in love with you, huh?"
Scroogikata looked at page 171, panel six, and against his wishes remembered that yes, the pretty lady really had been deeply in love with him, and he her – and the memory of how they had bonded over excessive use of condiments made him so emotional that he had to lunge for his desk and whip out a big chunk of wasabi and stuff it in his mouth so that he could blame the tears on it being spicy.
"Okay, now that you've remembered the pure clean feeling of love, are you ready to stop being such a bastard?" the Shiroyasha asked, inspecting the contents of his ear unearthed by his finger.
"No," said Scroogikata grumpily.
"It would be nicer if you did."
"Too bad!"
"Well, in that case," the Shiroyasha flicked the ear wax across the room thoughtfully, "you will be visited by the Ghost of-" there was a rustle as he took out a crib sheet – "Christmas Presents."
"Isn't that Santa Claus?" Scroogikata asked, a little confused as how they had gone from eternal torment old alone hemorrhoids to Ho Ho Ho.
The Shiroyasha rechecked the paper. "Present. Sorry. Christmas Present."
"What does that mean?"
"How am I supposed to know? Figure it out yourself and grow in the ways of manhood."
Scroogikata started to say something insulting, but suddenly the Shiroyasha was gone.
Immediately, however, Scroogikata sensed another presence (because the dead of night can only last so long and things had to get a move on here) and turned quickly, hand on his sword, only to see a dark-haired figure in a kimono staring at him in distaste.
"Hello, dog of the Shogunate," said the dark-haired figure. "I'm here to show you how your Bakufu-loving ways are turning Edo into a cesspit of shame and ignorance, where men cannot stand tall and women, uh, can't either."
Scroogikata blinked at the figure. "Do I know you, O Ghost of Christmas Present?" he asked at last.
"It's not Ghost of Christmas Present. It's Katsura."
"You mean the terrorist? I can't believe I didn't recognize you!"
"Ah, well, I recently cut my hair. Anyway, follow me and I'll show you how your misguided loyalty to the puppet government is slowly sinking Edo into the slime."
"Um, okay, whatever," said Scroogikata.
The-Ghost-of-Christmas-Present-ja-nai-Katsura-da walked to the door and opened it. "Come on," he said shortly.
"We have to walk?" complained Scroogikata, quickly grabbing his patented cheap red scarfTM to protect his neck from the cold. "The special effects are pretty low budget in this haunting."
"Hauntings used to be much braver and nobler," It's-not-the-Ghost-of-Christmas-Present-it's-Katsura said sorrowfully, "until people like YOU helped support the aliens overrunning our noble country and –"
"Yeah yeah, I get it and I even agree with you somewhat," Scroogikata interrupted. "But can we get on with this?"
"Whatever," said TGoCP-ja-nai-Katsura-da, and walked out the door. Hijikata followed him as they went down the engawa, turned right, turned left, then walked for three more meters and stopped.
"That's it? You took me to the rec room?" Scroogikata asked disgustedly.
TGoCP-ja-nai-Katsura-da gave him a dark look. "What do you expect? We're supposed to looking at the present aren't we?"
"The present could be far away," Scroogikata pointed out.
"Well, it's not. Live with it."
Luckily, before they could get into a bitch slap fight, a big warm roar of laughter rolled out into the night from the common room and distracted them.
Curious despite himself, Scroogikata peered through a slightly open window (because I'm still pretty sure they didn't have glass at this point) and saw a pageful of rosy, laughing faces reveling in holiday spirits. (Not holiday spirits like the ghost of Itou. The other, God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, cheery and bright, kind.)
Suddenly, however, Kondo's content smile faded slightly. "Ah, if only Toshi were here," he said wistfully, sighing a little. "It's not the same without him . . . . Everyone, let's drink to our missing friends – and the warm feeling of fellowship we share this cold night!"
Yamazaki, cradling his makeshift badminton racket made out of twigs and used dental floss, with a pincone for a birdie, lifted his cup high and added, "And Kami-sama bless us, everyone!"
And there was a lovely, long, waffy, feel-good clinking of glasses that was as close to a group hug as you can get without anyone actually touching anyone else.
" . . . Well, I don't know what that's supposed to teach me," Scroogikata said gruffly after a moment.
"It's supposed to teach you that by supporting the weak and dishonest Amanto-controlled government, you are not only hurting all of the country, but also those closest to you," said Katsura (NOT the Ghost of Christmas Present) promptly.
Scroogikata looked at him narrowly. "Actually, I don't think that's what it's really supposed to teach me."
Katsura da shrugged. "Fine, it might be trying to teach you not to be such a cold-hearted bastard. Same diff."
And then he disappeared. In his place, a disconcertingly oval duck-like creature appeared and held up a hastily lettered sign, although really that's more like Panda!Saotome in Ranma1/2 than Elizabet--
"Good God!" said Scroogikata, interrupting that tangent with his surprise at the appearance of the Ghost of Christmas Present point five.
Then, recovering from his shock, he bent down to decipher the sign: "Oh, by the way, you will be visited by one more ghost this night," he read slowly. "The Ghost of Christmas Futu—"
Suddenly, Scroogikata trailed off at the sound of a familiar whine of machinery . . . and barely dodged as abruptly, the prudently abandoned sign was splintered into a thousand pieces by a fiery projectile.
"Yep," said a black-robed Sougo, resting the smoking rocket launcher on his shoulder, "that would be me. The Ghost of Christmas Death."
"It's the Ghost of Christmas Future, idiot," Scroogikata retorted, brushing himself off.
"But your future is death, Scroogikata-san," Sougo said calmly. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
And with a wave of his hand, the scene changed. Scroogikata found himself on the edge of a city in deep night.
"Where is this place?" he demanded, because it was creepy how it was only Sougo who could just wave his hand like that and make them materialize somewhere else.
"This is your graveyard, Scroogikata Toushirou," answered Sougo solemnly.
" . . .it looks like a garbage dump."
Sougo shrugged a little. "Well, after you died the Shinsengumi pretty much fell apart and no one had enough money to bury you properly."
"You mean you just tossed my body in there?"
"Not really your body." Sougo tapped his rocket launcher thoughtfully. "It was more like ashes, technically."
Scroogikata stared at him. "You killed me? Did you really kill me? Seriously?" he demanded. "You did, didn't you? You psycho!"
Sougo held up a hand. "Maa, Scroogikata-san," he reprimanded, "I'm not allowed to tell you the future, just show you the results. But I can tell you that you died alone, regretting all the many many MANY stupid decisions you had made, but most especially the ones that caused you to cast aside Kondou-san's friendship and seclude yourself like a –"
"-cold-hearted bastard with hemorrhoids, yeah, I know," Scroogikata said a little absently, pondering the garbage dump and more especially the way Sougo had said the Shinsengumi had fallen apart. He was a grumpy, cold-hearted bastard (although he did NOT have hemorrhoids) in order to protect the Shinsengumi, not hurt it. Well, okay, some of that was just natural preference, but . . . .
"If the Shinsengumi fell apart," he said slowly, "what happened to . . . . "
Sougo's face seemed to recede into the darkness of his cloak. "Kondou-san died first," he said softly, "and then the rest of us followed . . . . "
He waved his hand again and the scene changed to a real graveyard and a row of smooth grave stones under a tree. A haggard-looking, heavily scarred Yamazaki, was carefully placing flowers on all the graves. "If only Scroogikata-fukuchou had stayed with us," he sighed, limping to the next grave. "But he only cared about himself, that cold-hearted bastard."
"No," said Scroogikata in horror. "I never wanted that! And why does everyone else get gravestones when I'm in the garbage dump? Why can't I be with the rest of the Shinsengumi? Why am I – alone?"
"Because you chose to be," Sougo said tonelessly.
"But—"
"Yes, Scroogikata-san-" and Sougo's voice seemed to boom in his ear, growing louder and colder as everything started to go black, "you die alone, just as you lived alone. . . ." He lowered the rocket launcher accusingly, the dread last word echoing alone alone alone as Scroogikata's world tore into flame--
"AHHHHH!" Panting, Scroogikata woke to find himself draped over his desk, the taste of stale cigarettes in his mouth. Had it all been a dream? He didn't know – but it stole over him the feeling that he was wasting this most precious time of his life.
There was no time to lose! He had to. . . get that rocket launcher away from Sougo! But before that, he had to embrace the warmth and love of the holiday season.
Moving so fast he actually skidded around the corners, like that scene with Tom Cruise, although it would be so much better if it had been Scroogikata in boxers and his Shinsengumi coat and a cigarette, Scroogikata raced the seven meters to the common room and flung open the door, panting.
There was a slight pause as all of the assorted guests, who were pretty much every random character you've ever seen in the series, even the ones who had absolutely no business being there, blinked at the heavily breathing, slightly crazed-looking madman who had burst into their festivities. Then they realized who it was and were immediately filled with warm fuzzies at the thought that Scroogikata had decided to join them. In fact, there was even an impromptu cheer and someone stuck a pair of humorous reindeer antlers on his head as Kondo beamed tearfully at him and handed him a festive drink involving nog and/or mulled something.
"Toshi!" he said happily. "You came!"
And Scroogikata, seeing the happy faces of the assembled friends and misc., felt his heart grow one size larger, because seriously two or three sizes is just not going to happen with this guy and also could probably lead to cardiac arrest.
Then he suddenly remember the little match stick girl and raced outside to scoop her up from her pile of snow.
Although actually by now she was warmly wrapped in a cloak and sitting on a huge mound of sukonbu thanks to following Scroogikata's suggestion of robbing some poor drunks blind. But she was still very happy to get to go inside where there was food and laughter and song, not to mention good will toward man and hefty amounts of nog.
"And Kami-sama bless us," said little Yamazaki (again), "everyone."
"So there," said St. Gintoki.
"What did that have to with anything?" Hijikata demanded.
"You couldn't see the parallels?"
"Parallels to what, you insane housebreaker?"
"You see, Virginia," St. Gintoki explained patiently, while behind him Kagura and Shinpachi ate all the food, and Katsura stole secret documents, and Takusugi set fire to the Christmas tree, "although your innocent dreams may have been hurt when you went to the department store as a toddler and noticed Santa smelled not like holy mistletoe but like second tier rum, still, wherever there are silver bells walking in a Winter wonderland on high on a silent night that decks the hall away in a manger while chestnuts roast over an open fire and little drummer boys bring joy to the world on the third day of Christmas while shepherds their watch are keeping . . . A thousand years from now, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood. Because yes, Virgina, there IS a Santa Claus!"
Hijikata glowered. "My name isn't Virgina. And how was any of that supposed to make sense?"
St. Gintoki shrugged. "Whatever."
And laying a finger on the side of his nose (not in it this time)
And giving a nod, out the . . . door . . . he rose.
Leaving nothing in the kitchen and the burning Christmas tree flaming merrily (which was why Kondou woke up to find Hijikata covered in lights because Sougo really wanted a tree).
And we heard him exclaim 'ere he scootered out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all!"
And to all a good night.
Merriest of holidays, y'all.
