Here I am, inevitably, with another Gintama story. Well, it is my all-time favorite anime. I really can't help it.
The Edo sunset flashed with a plot relevant green light near the west of the terminal.
Okita sipped green tea, sitting on the roof of the barracks. His red eyes narrowed. "Interesting."
...
The next day was sweltering hot and if Hijikata hadn't enacted more stringent rules in the Shinsengumi dress code after the incident where he was stuck in Yorozuya's body, he might have ripped his sleeves off just walking to the convenience store. To be fair, he didn't think Edo could handle any more shirtless Kondo and the motor gang. And he was a professional, dammit. And professionals suffered through inconveniences like that because arbitrary rules were put in place by people long gone decided decency did not suffer ripped sleeves or Fist of the North Star mohawks. He sighed and pulled at his cravat as he entered the convenience store, bought as many cigarette cartons as pockets on his uniform, and left the air conditioning for the blistering late summer streets. He took the opportunity to again curse that UberTabacco driver that hadn't been able to deliver his order due to the weather. He was doing just fine, still he wouldn't complain if there were just a few clouds.
He unwrapped one carton, plucked a cigarette out and lit it, thinking he wondering if he could create enough smoke to make shade as he entered the familiar, micro-managed couple of blocks surrounding the barracks. Not a piece of trash littered, not a single mohawked man swaggering about with his tongue out, or men not dutifully working their jobs—utopia.
That's why he noticed when he walked past an alley, that there was a figure sitting in it, near the neatly sorted trash piles. Hijikata stopped moving as he just passed the alley.
A kid. Ditching class? Probably too young. He glanced over his shoulder. "You can't loiter here, kid, go home." His second, brief look was a little more informative—kid was early grade school, decently dressed, but dirty, like he was a trouble maker.
Hijikata kept moving, convinced that a warning from the special police would be enough to have the kid scurrying back where he belonged, but the kid didn't move. In the time it took him to finish his first step forward a drop of sweat beaded on his forehead that had nothing to do with the weather. He turned his head back, robotically, face a picture of disquietment. His steel eyes registered what he didn't quite comprehend the first or second time.
The child sitting in the alley, sleeping, was about as young as he'd guessed, was more pale-skinned than one should be in the middle of summer, and had a head of tasteless wavy silver hair.
M-mirage… Hijikata thought to himself, pinched himself on his shoulder roughly. The mirage didn't lift. He shaded his eyes with his hands to block the bright sun, though his V-shaped bangs already did that. Still there.
A look alike? A misguided cosplay? He checked his carton of cigarettes to make sure that old lady hadn't slipped him something more fun instead.
Not only did the kid have silver hair, his face looked like him. Then it struck Hijikata—that little brat Yorozuya had been toting around for an episode or two, years ago. How long had it been? Four years? Eight? It was hard to tell with all the cancelations and the Slip Arc. He'd recalled the kid hadn't ended up being Yorozuya's, but if the resemblance was uncanny before, it was worse now.
One of the boy's eyes opened easily—as if he hadn't been sleeping at all—and fixed the lieutenant with a piercing yet familiar, stare.
The boy didn't say anything, just looked bored and like he waiting for Hijikata to walk away. It's probably just another albino, Hijikata reasoned. I'm sure they all look alike, white hair and red eyes—that's practically Yorozuya's full character design besides wavy hair and a loose face.
Instead, Hijikata gathered his wits, cleared his throat, and with the air of authority he carried as the Lieutenant Commander of the Shinsengumi, addressed the albino child.
"Kid, you can't sleep in this alley, go home to your blind mother or your good-for-nothing father."
The familiar-looking eyes maintained his stare as his hand moved to the ground, where he picked up an old volume of Jump and flipped a little ways into the magazine. "This book ain't bad," the kid said, completely ignoring Hijikata.
Hijikata felt his vision turn red. This kid is a major punk! He imagined a couple more years and he'd end up like Mountain Zaki, the good-for-nothing thug Yamazaki had been before joining the Shinsengumi.
His temper was barely reigned in. This kid's probably six or seven, he reasoned to himself, managing to stop the hand reached around for handcuffs with his carefully honed restraint. "How about you explain why you're sitting out in this alley during a heatwave?"
"Cause the street was too hot, V-brow," the boy's eyes didn't move from the manga, finger digging into his nose.
Hijikata's cigarette bent under the pressure of his jaw tightening. "Alright, well where's your mom, punk? Did she forget you at the store like you she forgot to teach you manners?"
"My mom woulda said it's rude to interrupt people while they're reading."
Was it just him or was steam rising off his body as he glowered at the child? Had he just achieved Gear Second? Any other kid, he would have been rapped on the head long ago, this one was so…unsettling, he didn't even consider it. He was almost intimidated by this young child. "Does she say anything about getting arrested?"
The boy flicked the booger against the wall. "No, she's dead."
Hijikata coughed up some nicotine on that. "W-what?" He felt even sweatier than before. Oh shit. This kid was left alone without a mom and only that shitty deadbeat pachinko player? Did Yorozuya even know about this? How could he be an acceptable father figure to an alien and an otaku but a deadbeat to this kid? "You're visiting your father then, r-right? Your shitty old man?"
"That useless guy? He's dead too." The boy seemed to lose interest in the manga he was reading and was simply flipping through pages. "But I'll find a random old guy to be my new one if it means you'll leave me alone."
Dead? "No, he's not dead, I saw him not that long ago."Hijikata managed.
"Nope, definitely dead, saw it with my own eyes," the boy droned. Hijikata's face was dripping with sweat now.
"He's fine," Hijikata stressed.
"Fine one minute, dead the next."
"No, he's really fine," Hijikata said, lighting three cigarettes in his mouth at the same time without noticing, his body shaking slightly. He'd seen Yorozuya a week ago, maybe a little longer, the slacker was walking with his kids to the ice cream shop. Did he have diabetes? He was walking between the two, so a car wasn't likely to kill just him, maybe a motorcycle? A motor kamikaze? Did Miwarigumi found out he was the Shiroyasha? Did Okita have a bad day? Did he get drunk and stumble into a meat grinder instead of a pachinko table? "He wasn't dead, he's fine."
Finally, the boy looked up from his book, real anger finally piercing through the indifference, his hand went behind his back and tightened around a sword Hijikata hadn't noticed in all the shock. "Why're you telling me how my family is?" he yelled. "Like I don't know."
"But, Gintoki is—" Hijikata started. The boy froze up at that, startling Hijikata too.
"How do you know my name?"
Let me know what you think, it all always gives me inspiration to write! This will have at least a few more chapters.