It was early April, the peak of cherry blossom season in Edo. Family and friends alike were gathered in Mukojima-Hyakkaen Garden for Hanami despite the cold weather, choosing to seek warmth in hot sake instead. Hijikata Toushirou felt the chill slice through his bones; he'd only been here for an hour and his face was already numb from the freezing winds biting at his cheeks. He couldn't grumble as much as he had wanted to, however, because he had arrived here together with the rest of the Shinsengumi and he didn't want to be a wet blanket. His superior, Kondo, was excitedly pointing out the view like a child at a toy store and eagerly ushering the group towards the best viewing spot in the area.
Hijikata knew he had a tense aura that impeded his colleagues' efforts in striking a conversation with him — there was an unspoken concern in the way they interacted with him that ultimately made everything awkward as hell, and Hijikata honestly would rather have stayed back at the barracks to do paperwork instead.
"Sougo, did you know that the name of this garden means ' a garden where a hundred flowers bloom throughout four seasons of the year '?" he heard Kondo say. "That's kinda poetic, dontcha think?"
Hijikata looked away, visibly uncomfortable. Truth be told, flowers were the last thing he wanted to see right now. It had already been close to a year since Gintoki's death but he felt like he was still in shambles. He had spent the past few months convincing everyone else that he wasn't affected by what had happened — and it was absolutely exhausting doing so — but he was nevertheless still undeniably overwrought with grief.
When he had returned to the hotel room for the last time that fateful night, he met with a horrifying sight that would then haunt him for the rest of his life. In an instant, he had been filled with an intense wave of regret that shook him through his very core. He remembered wailing in anguish till his voice went hoarse; his nails digging deep into cold skin as if trying to incite a pain that would stir the body in his arms back to life. Please, I beg of you — please wake up. If he had known that it had been Gintoki's last night, he would have never left the room.
He had made an emergency report back at the barracks the day after that, and Kondo made the decision to suspend Hijikata's role in the primary job investigation altogether. Everyone who knew the silver-haired samurai were shocked to say the least when Hijikata and Kondo appeared at the Yorozuya's office to deliver the bad news; Kagura had screamed and threatened to beat him to a pulp the next time she saw him, while Shinpachi and Otose, who were too engulfed in their grief, offered no words of anger or comfort. He was sure they had blamed him, and rightly so.
The vice commander was afflicted with recurring nightmares for months after that, and they all had something to do with falling from a great height before submerging in a bed of white chrysanthemums stained red with blood. It was guilt, he was sure. Guilt for not being there in Gintoki's final moments; guilt for letting the time run out before he told him how he actually felt. Within the depths of his mind, he couldn't help the unrelenting belief that he could have saved Gintoki then. He could have, should have, but he didn't.
Hijikata Toushirou thought of Gintoki whenever he woke up and looked at himself in the mirror. He thought of Gintoki whenever he had to patrol through Kabuki-cho as part of his daily routine. He thought of Gintoki whenever he saw flowers on the sidewalk or at the park. Finally, he thought of Gintoki whenever he laid his exhausted body on his futon each night before he slept. If he could travel back in time so that he was back in that dreary hotel room, facing Gintoki as he was sitting in his bed, he would have said the words that he'd wanted to say. Firstly, he'd ask him if he needed anything, and that he'd help him with any request he had. He'd bring him his favorite comics every night, and take every chance he had to chat about absolutely everything and nothing at all. And when the sun set and the sky was littered with stars, he'd tell him that he was thankful he existed. Lastly, he'd say sorry. Sorry, for not being able to save him, and sorry, for not ultimately telling him that he would have shortened his own lifespan if it meant that they could share one more night together.
His thoughts were cut short by a strangely light breeze, and he looked up at the sakura tree he was currently under. The leaves were swaying lazily, which caused flushed pink petals to gracefully descend to the ground. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from his restless nights, or maybe it was the pure desolation that persisted in his heart, but Hijikata swore time seemed to move in slow motion — and in that moment, he thought he saw a flash of silver move past his peripheral vision. It triggered unwanted memories of his last hanami with the Yorozuya trio: the petty arguing, the stupid rock-paper-scissors contest, and getting so drunk out of their minds that he and Gintoki had ended up knocked out cold in a random corner of the park they were at.
All at once, he was overwhelmed with endless imagined possibilities of what could have been, if he had only worked up the courage to say what could have saved them both then. It happened in a blur: Sakata Gintoki standing before him with a cup of sake in his hand, gently smiling without a care in the world. In the midst of falling cherry blossoms and icy wind, the samurai whispered elusive words to Hijikata that the latter could not decipher but desperately wished were that of forgiveness.
Gintoki's mouth moved slowly as he grinned, and his voice seemed to echo through Hijikata's mind.
" One more drink, Oogushi-kun. I'm gonna beat you at this game for sure. "
" Oi, quit glaring at Gin-san like that. You're ruining his mood, y'know? "
" It's okay— "
" Toushirou. "
Agony swept through the dark-haired man like a flood. He lingered in this illusion unblinkingly for as long as he could — as if the slightest disruption in his focus would spell the end of his mirage permanently. Still, he watched painfully as the image of Gintoki that his mind had conjured up started to slowly fade. He was soon left standing alone in forlorn silence, with his head tilted towards the sky and cherry blossoms delicately cascading down on him.
"Idiot Hijikata. Idiot Hijikata. Idiot Hijikata." A monotonous chanting rudely snapped him out of his trance, and the vice commander found himself face to face with Okita Sougo. The First Division captain gazed at him with an unreadable facial expression. "The whole squad's waiting for you so we can begin the toast."
Hijikata, in response, turned his head towards the group of Shinsengumi officers waving at him enthusiastically. Exhaling loudly, he waved a hand dismissively at Sougo with the promise of joining them in a few minutes, but he was subsequently met with an overwhelming urge to cough — and he did.
Dead chrysanthemum petals landed on top of fresh cherry blossoms. Stunned, the cop shakily took a step back and stared at the ground in front of him.
In the garden where flowers bloomed eternally, Hijikata Toushirou's unrequited love finally blossomed.