When you enter someone's heart, don't forget to take off your hat
Things were not any more pleasant when he awoke.
He still felt groggy, drugged. His eyes were open but he wasn't understanding what he was seeing. It was dark. Murky colours swam. He rolled onto his side. The floor was cold. Concrete? He planted one palm on the floor to steady himself, but still lurched forwards when he attempted to sit up. He heard shuffling but until he could raise his head enough to see around himself, he wouldn't spare another thought towards his hearing. An unsteady arm fell from underneath him once more. With a grunt, he tried again and this time managed to lift his torso from the floor enough to look around. He gave himself several seconds to adjust to the light and his spinning head. The images were slow to react in his brain, almost like he was drunk. Drugged.
Drugged?
He'd been drugged.
He swore out loud and blinked his eyes slowly, trying again. A room registered itself in his head. Grey walls that looked liked they had been painted just once in their lifetime and a concrete floor. There was one door around two metres from Hijikata's nose. Something called to him and his head cocked in the direction of the noise.
"-kata... Oi …. ou … me?"
"Mmm?" A mass of whites was sat to his right. A person, leaning against the wall on the floor. It was speaking to him, but Hijikata had to blink away the bright light radiating off him. Too much white for such a dark room.
"Oiii. Hijikata. Wakey wakey."
"Where …?"
"You still drugged? Well they did manage to get three of the buggers into you."
"... where?" He said again, struggling onto his knees and rubbing his eyes with clumsy hands. It was like his brain couldn't figure out where his arms ended and his fingers began. Where were his legs? Was he sat right now? All his senses were fucked to high heaven.
"Ship bay near the terminal, I think. Did you enjoy your little kidnapping experience?" As Hijikata came back to his senses, slowly, painfully slowly, the figure sharpened in his eyes. He finally recognised the man beside him.
"-toki? Gintoki?" The man's words clicked into his drugged brain. Kidnapped. The incident flooded back to him. "Bastard, what're you … here, why?" The words slurred as he leapt forwards to secure his hands around Gintoki's throat. He never got there, stumbling sideways until he landed on the floor, head lolling.
"Maybe you should go back to sleep until the drug wears off." Gintoki shuffled himself further away. It seemed complex movements and sentences were still out of the question – he had enough brain capacity to figure that out, so Hijikata moved himself into a sitting position against the wall and chased oxygen back into his lungs.
"Explain."
"The guys who caused chaos at the shopping centre, the ones in cahoots with the bastard official, wanted your ass as payment for me fucking up their plans." Short but sweet. And so brutally honest that Hijikata felt like the words had pierced his stomach.
"You s-sold me out?"
"They gave me an offer I couldn't refuse." Gintoki shrugged.
Hijikata gave himself a moment, pondering this information. What would Gintoki trade for someone else's life? Parfaits and sweets? No, only as a joke. He could be a decent human being when it came down to moral standing – just not ordinary things like public decency. He was weird like that and would probably walk through the streets in strawberry underwear without blinking his dead-fish eyes. However thinking about his samurai code, in essence, Gintoki's was the same as Hijikata's. Just as Hijikata would grow every wrinkle at Kondou's side serving as his sword, his shield and his fist when the situation demanded it, Gintoki had made some sort of promise to the old woman, Otose. A promise which he had shed blood and broken bones to protect so far. He was her guard dog and had proven himself to be a man of his word, if it didn't involve sugar or young boys' magazines. Then, there were his kids. From their many interactions, Hijikata had seen Gintoki take on a sort of father/ uncle/ older brother/ giant baby role in the little family the yorozuya had created. It seemed logical to assume that someone had threatened Sakata Gintoki: Hijikata Toshiro in exchange for the ones he wanted to protect.
Not only did that tear open a gaping hole in his stomach that made him feel sick and weak and ill, despite the drugs pumping around his system, it also made sense. As far as he knew, Gintoki had been given a similar ultimatum in the past. His friends' lives or his teacher's. One dear, precious life or three.
"Threatened … they threatened you?"
"Yeah, that and I figured I'd prefer to be stuck in a cell on an amanto drug trafficking ship with you, rather than the two kids. Kagura would get hungry and start considering cannibalism and Shinpachi would sing Otsu songs in his madness. To be honest, I don't know which is scarier. And then the old hag would just bitch and whine."
"Hm, ahm …" Hijikata took a breath. The world wouldn't stop swaying. He felt like he was on a boat. "How do we ..." He felt his stomach lurch and tried to stand, but the weight of another arm on his held him back.
"Don't move about too much, you'll hurt yourself." Hijikata complied simply because he didn't have the strength to resist. He allowed himself to be pulled back onto the floor where he leaned against a warm shoulder. A hand rested on his opposite arm, providing the stability Hijikata sought in this spinning universe.
"There wasn't anything I could do." Now that he was closer, Hijikata could sense the warm breath and deep vibrations coming from Gintoki. The smooth tones soothed him, something familiar in a mess of foreign emotions. The deep earthy smell of another man drifted into his nose. "There was a bunch of them tracking the kids and even you. I was under time constraint, too. But don't worry. I have a plan."
"Probably somethin' stupid." Hijikata mumbled into the man's broad shoulder and felt it vibrate as Gintoki chuckled softly.
"Probably." He admitted. "But I'm pretty successful, ya know."
"Really?"
"I've survived 100% of my plans to date." This time it was Hijikata's turn to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh. The feeling was slowly returning to his limbs. He lifted his palm experimentally and flexed his fingers one by one. "Head clearer now?"
"Yeah."
"Though it was pretty cute to see you fumbling around like bambi."
"Shut it, you sadist."
"I kind of preferred you dumb and clumsy."
"Suck it up. What are they going to do with us, then?"
"Who knows. The Demon Commander's head is worth quite a lot. All I know is that they leave port in a few days, so everything will be over by then, one way or another."
"So you think they'll sell us to someone who wants us dead?"
"Possibly. Or, they might ransom you back for the heads of those criminals on death row. Whichever pays more. After the incident, their sentences were postponed until the terrorist threat subsided."
"Likely Kanto's work. Buying some time."
Hijikata took a deep breath and when he let go of the air in his lungs, it felt like he was expelling the last of the drug from his system. He was waking up, in mind and body, feeling alive again. His thoughts were moving, his movements fluid. The warrior in him was buzzing in the middle of enemy territory, thinking, planning. He still felt exhausted though, so he remained leaning against Gintoki's shoulder as said person gently slid his hand up and down Hijikata's sleeve. The movement was trance inducing, making him feel heavy and comforted. It was like settling under a warm futon or sitting in front of a crackling fire. Soon, he felt his eyelids droop closed.
…
"Get out of here, you disgusting sadist. You're making my sukonbu taste like shit."
"Kagura-chan, language." Shinpachi sighed heavily, once again peering out of the window down the street. Still no sign of a mess of silver hair. Okita Sougo put his mobile back into his pocket and sent a glare towards Kagura, who was curled up with Sadaharu munching on sukonbu and a parfait labelled with a warning in capitals. Clearly she had ignored the warning.
"Our commander wants to know where your boss has gone. Clearly, Hijikata-san is with him. They both vanished at the same time, after all."
"It's normal for Gin-san to wander off from time to time, but Hijikata-san …" Shinpachi stopped himself from glancing out the window for the nth time and instead busied himself tidying Gintoki's desk.
"Hijikata-san came here, and two days later, he still hasn't returned. Kondou-san is on the verge of sending out the entire of Edo's police force after him."
"We don't know where they've gone, but I'm starting to get worried."
"He's probably in that red light area." Kagura shrugged, finished another piece of sukonbu with a pop.
"Kagura-chan!" Shinpachi screeched.
"What? Gin-chan says he goes there a lot to play with the fire engines." Okita gave her a smirk and laughed menacingly under his breath, causing Kagura to glare daggers at him.
"It's not like I care where he is, but Kondou-san's getting' angsty. And I can't take Hijikata's position until we confirm he's dead."
"Shut up you slimy sadist. They're not dead." Kagura spat, tossing the nearest object at Okita which happened to be a lampshade. Her throw de-rooted it from the plug socket and Okita barely dodged the flying household appliance.
"Don't throw the furniture! Unless you want to work yourself to skin and bone to repay the damage." Shinpachi admonished her once more, sighing with the effort of once again chiding the yato girl.
"We can do without one or two lamps." Kagura sniffed, folding her arms and sulking. Shinpachi had noticed she'd been moody as of late and this was likely because of the lack of one big wailing baby lurking around the apartment, complaining about nonsense. She was worried; they both were. Though Gintoki would frequently leave for a day or so with little warning, there was always something he said that confirmed that he intended on coming home. A note on the fridge saying, 'don't eat my parfait whilst I'm gone. I MEAN it.', or a quick wave over his shoulder as he grunts, 'don't let Sadaharu sleep in your bed or you'll get fleas'.
This time, there had been nothing, which suggested that Gintoki himself hadn't expected he was going to leave. Even Otose had raised an eyebrow when she found out he was still missing. She usually had more of an idea what he was thinking than the rest of them. And that wasn't the most confusing part of the whole incident. Why had he vanished along with Hijikata of the Shinsengumi? Shinpachi could only guess that Gintoki had been caught up in something whilst knocking about outside with the demon vice-commander. It was of slight comfort that the two of them had disappeared together. At least that demanded some assurance. They were both strong and Hijikata had some degree of intelligence. Gintoki was just a ball of instincts waving a stick; there wasn't much thought behind it. Hijikata, however, had a good head on his shoulders. But still, it was only a little comfort. For the two of them to take off without warning …
No, they hadn't 'taken off'- something had happened. Something neither of them were expecting.
"I'm going out to look again. Kagura-chan, stay here and wait for him, okay?"
"I want to come too!" She said, scrambling to her feet and reaching for her umbrella. Shinpachi checked once more up the street before scratching the bridge of his nose where the rim of his glasses sat.
"You need to stay here in case he comes back." He was protecting her and Shinpachi was certain she knew it, but he was the oldest now. He had a responsibility. He was trying to think what Gintoki would do (and avoid doing that at all costs).
"'m coming." Okita announced, straightening up until his back clicked satisfyingly. "After all, I can't miss this opportunity to finish him – ah. I can't miss this opportunity to find Hijikata."
"That wasn't very subtle, Okita-san."
After an hour of mindless walking with no real plan as to where they should look, Shinpachi suggested they once more try the station and this time, ask a member of staff if they'd seen either a flash of silver hair with an inability to wear a yukata correctly, or a bulky mass of darkness that gave off a sort of 'seppuku' vibe. Light and dark walking side by side through the street – they really shouldn't be that hard to find. Though Shinpachi took a moment to muse over the irony that Gintoki, the 'light', was a former Joui patriot and warrior during the war. Whilst Hijikata, the 'darkness', was on the side of the law and fought to defeat people like Gintoki. They both lent a hand in protecting Kabuki, despite their polar opposite nature.
They approached the station once more, the crowd visibly thickening around them. Shinpachi glanced across at Okita to check that he was still close by and found him to be distracted. His eyes were slightly narrowed. It wasn't a very obvious change in expression, but for someone who rarely showed concern for anything, it was worthy of a second glance to which Shinpachi noticed Okita looking around – something which he hadn't done once since they had left and Shinpachi had wondered just how serious he was about finding his vice-commander.
"Something wrong?" He asked.
"Mmm, maybe," was the short reply as they approached the entrance to the station, squeezing through the counterflow of people pushing them back.
"What do you mean?" Shinpachi copied Okita, eyes scanning the area, peering over the heads of people.
"Not that way," Okita lifted a hand and made a subtle gesture pointing behind them. "We're being followed."
"Are you-!" Shinpachi reigned in his voice and coughed. "Are you serious?"
"Mm." With the smallest of pushes, Okita directed Shinpachi towards the men's toilets and they disappeared inside. It was unlikely that anyone would follow them in there – far too obvious. There were two or three people in the stalls and one drying his hands, so talking was still restricted. "Since we left the yorozuya, I think."
"Seriously?!"
"Yeah. Thought they were just heading into town like us. Lost them for a while but just caught them behind us again. Who, by chance, goes to the station twice in the same day at the same time?"
"That is definitely suspicious. Why, though?" Okita said nothing as the noise of the drier suddenly exposed their conversation when it shut off. The man left as Okita pretended to wash his face in the sink. Shinpachi stood by, fiddling with his yukata. They continued this act as the toilet inhabitants did their business and left. Eventually, they were alone.
"Well it's not an attack or they'd have done it. It's surveillance."
"Of me or you?"
"Not sure." Okita shrugged, ripping a paper towel from the dispenser to dry his face.
"Do you think this is linked to those two disappearing?"
"Maybe. For now, let's carry on as normal. We can monitor him as he monitors us."
"What does he look like?" Shinpachi asked, but Okita didn't have chance to answer as a man wearing a red suit entered, disrupting their conversation. The two of them pushed back through the door into the rush of people running – or speed-walking – for trains.
They carried on as though unaware that they were being watched. Now that Okita had pointed it out, it didn't take long for Shinpachi to notice it too. How had he not felt it before? The burning on the back of your neck, the sharp blade licking your throat every time you moved … he felt like he was walking across an icy plane and one slip would send him spinning back into the jaws of a predator. What did they want?
Things were beginning to get suspicious.
…
"Gottya." Gintoki smirked, pulling his open palms out of the way just as Hijikata made a swipe for them. They were playing a game, as was Gintoki's casual suggestion. In normal times, Hijikata would have smacked him for being an idiot, but they had been sat in the same room for hours now with no human contact (Gintoki didn't count), so boredom was beginning to nibble away at his sanity. That and Gintoki's singing as an attempt to entertain himself.
The game was simple. The attacker held out their hands, palms to the ceiling, below the down-facing hands of their opponent. They would try to slap the back of the other persons hands. If they succeeded, they could continue hitting. If their opponent managed to dodge, it was their turn to attack. Such a simple, childish game was actually riling him up. Especially when Gintoki won.
Slap. Gintoki successfully tapped the back of Hijikata's hands and moved back to the starting position. Hijikata's eyebrows twitched in irritation. Slap. He hit again, despite Hijikata's desperate attempt to move his hands away in time. He clicked his tongue in agitation. He was deciding that this game was no good for his self control. Slap. Slap. Slap. Hijikata bit back a curse that would make obvious his building aggression, but the look on Gintoki's face when he raised his eyes for a second made the words spill out.
"Fuck you." He cursed. Gintoki's lips kicked up into a grin. He held his ground, unmoving, building the tension as Hijikata anxiously waited for him to attack. Suddenly, he flinched his hands and Hijikata rapidly drew away.
"Oh my, nervous are we?" Gintoki grinned again as Hijikata chewed on his bottom lip after having fallen for a feint.
He fell for three more feints, before he slapped his hands down violently onto Gintoki's. The latter let out a surprised yelp and backed away.
"That's not how the game works!" He whined, rubbing his battered palm. Hijikata barely refrained from touching his own burning hands.
"Fuck your game."
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you more!"
"Fuck this room!"
"Fuck your damn plan!"
"Fuck your shitty police force for not being able to prevent this."
"Fuck you!"
"That was a genuine reaction, wasn't it?" Gintoki giggled to himself. "Well then, what now?"
"For a start, tell me what your plan is."
"A magician never reveals his tricks."
"Ass."
"Your mouth is foul. Probably from all that dog shit you eat."
"Speak for yourself, sugar demon."
"Real demon." Gintoki countered. Hijikata let out a strangled moan and rolled onto his back.
"Why do I have to be trapped in a room with an infant?"
"Hmm, because I brought you here." Gintoki said and his tone dropped a few degrees. Hijikata knew it was a test. They'd been goofing around for the last hour or so, but the reality was still that Gintoki had taken a part in kidnapping Hijikata and basically selling his life off. Hijikata had felt it before, but there was definite guilt lurking about somewhere behind those dead, red eyes. He took a moment to look at said eyes, absorbing the lack of emotion in them that spoke volumes of unsaid words.
He wanted to know if Hijikata hated him for this. He expected it. He was shutting off his emotions to pretend that this was all his doing – he didn't want to play the pity card. Those deep, swirling pupils whispered blame me, almost as though he couldn't forgive himself if not. Gintoki was waiting for him to lash out; to shout; to hate.
"Don't treat me like one'v yer kids," Hijikata finally said. "I don't need you protecting me. They were after me anyway, n' now I can work from the inside. I'm partially grateful, y'know." There was a snort that said his answer had not satisfied Gintoki. "Look, if it'd've been you or the Shinsengumi, I'd still be locked up with you."
"You're saying you don't want to tear off my fingernails one by one because of what I've done to you? You could die, you know."
"M' telling you, I'm not one've yer kids! There ain't no way I'm dying. 'Sides, you have a plan, right?"
"Mm."
Click.
Hijikata shot to his feet and his hand went to grab his sword, which wasn't there, obviously. The door opened. He dived forwards, aiming to take them by surprise before whomever it was could lock their sights onto them. He raised a fist, pouncing forward. His eyes barely registered the tip of a katana lunging forwards to slice him, but then there were hands on his hips pulling him out of the way. He tumbled to the floor and rolled into a groaning heap. The click of his ankle hadn't sounded good, nor did it feel good. He didn't feel like staging another surprise attack any time soon. They were still in danger though, so he scrambled onto his knees to assess the situation.
Blood dripped.
That was the first thing that registered in his brain, one colour throbbing loudly in his head. Blood had been shed, and he was pretty sure it wasn't his. The familiar sting of an open would wasn't there. The next thing he saw was Gintoki standing where Hijikata had been milliseconds away from being skewered like a kebab. Gintoki was wincing, teeth gritted. The source of the blood was him. Hijikata ran his eyes down the scene to where Gintoki had physically deflected the blade with one hand after shoving the hot-headed commander out of the way with the other. If he hadn't have pushed the blade out of the way with his bare hands, the sword would have pierced him straight through. If he hadn't have pushed Hijikata aside, it'd be Hijikata spilling blood.
The wound was deep, but not life threatening if they could staunch the blood and prevent infection. The perpetrator lowered his sword and stepped into the room so that he could be seen.
"Take your dog and sit yourselves along that back wall." The voice ordered and Hijikata immediately recognised it from the dodgy phone call. Gintoki's hand trembled violently at his side, rejecting the signals he was giving it to move. It was likely his nerves had been severed as the cut sliced from his palm all the way up to his elbow in a gaping red ooze of blood. A second later and Gintoki obeyed quietly, sliding his good arm beneath Hijikata to help him limp towards the back wall, where they slid down it onto the floor.
A man dressed in a maroon coloured yukata flicked the blood from his sword and replaced it at his hip. There were two men behind him with guns, the obvious bulk of the operation, whilst the yukata samurai was the brains - that much was apparent from his cocky confidence emanating from every pore. There was a spider's web of fine lines decorating his yukata in stark white. More threateningly, he was adorned with a variety of bladed weapons. Hijikata decided the more pressing matter wasn't to indulge this bastard with weary looks, but to tend to the grunting man on the floor beside him, so he did so.
Gintoki was already fumbling with his bright white yukata to rip off a section and staunch the blood, but with only one operating arm, he was fumbling uselessly. Hijikata gently tapped his hand as a signal to let go and allow him to do it. He tore a long strip from the bottom and began wrapping it tightly around the wound. It was clear that soon it'd be more crimson than white, but the problem was temporarily resolved. Gintoki drew a sharp, shuddering breath and lent back against the cold wall. Hijikata glared as hard as he could at the man before them.
"Done?" He asked, cocking his head to one side. "Oh and if you're thinking of running, there's another door past this one that's locked. You need a code for it, which is inside my head.
"ABC123?" Gintoki choked out and Hijikata had to smirk at the fact he was still pumping out stupid jokes even in this situation. "Is there a security question? Your mother's maiden name? Because I know that one."
"Well, even if you got past us to the door, we have guns and you have three and a half arms between you."
"We'll manage." Gintoki shrugged.
"I don't see you trying." The man replied quickly. "Anyway, I'm only here to show you to your buyers." On cue, two amanto slipped from behind the guards to peer into the room.
"God's above," one exclaimed. "It really is the Shiroyasha."
Hijikata started. His breath hitched involuntarily as two and two slammed together to explode in a gigantic, blazing four. The Shiroyasha, who Hijikata had come across when trying to look into Gintoki's past, was Gintoki. He knew roughly where Gintoki was from and that he had fought in the war, so the name Shiroyasha had been hit up multiple times. He definitely knew about the Shiroyasha. He'd heard the name when he lived at the temple. The saviour; the killer; the Shiroyasha. He was synonymous with the type of legends mothers told their children before they slept – sometimes the story of a hero, other times a tale of warning.
Behave or the shiroyasha will come visiting.
He also knew of him from basic police training. The name was imperative to know for every policeman for of course, he was a comrade of the raging noble Katsura who still caused trouble on many occasions, serving as a reminder that the Joui were not dead. Then, there was Takasugi Shinsuke– a nuisance of the grandest level. A powerful, poisonous thorn in the bakufu's side that crept it's path throughout the universe, strangling opposition and gradually building a thorned army the size of an empire. But, two of the four most feared legends of the war had disappeared. Intelligence had it that Sakamoto had taken off into the universe which made him hard to track and also not their problem, since he was wreaking havoc outside of Edo's boundaries. The other was turning out to be more their problem, however.
The final name, the Shiroyasha, had disappeared like a trail of rising smoke in the wind. Such a renown, powerful man had disintegrated into merely a legend- a white haired demon, feared by enemies and comrades alike. They had assumed he had died or moved far away. There were hundreds of horror stories remaining that Hijikata had dredged up about the man, with references to demons and vampires - a blood sucking monster born on the battlefield with no remorse for life and what he took from it. A man who would cut down his friends for amusement, who could chop of the heads of his closest friends and rage unrestricted through armies of amanto, alone. His sword left no heart still beating.
And he was sat here.
Fucking hell, Toshiro. How many people do you know with white hair?! Hijikata cursed to himself.
The Shiroyasha was allowing himself to be prodded at and kicked by one of the two amanto. Hijikata bared his teeth into a snarl, but Gintoki continued staring past towards the man delicately cleaning off his sword with a cloth one of the guards had supplied.
"Not so tough now are ya, without yer great big army." The amanto booted Gintoki in the face; still no reaction. "Plenty o' my men died 'cos of you."
"Cry me a river." Gintoki sniffed, lifting his good arm to remove the heel of the shoe on his face and pick lazily at his nose. For this, he received another kick to the face. Hijikata braced himself to attack the bastard, but was halted by the smug looking mafia-boss lurking behind.
"Please don't damage my merchandise." He commented, replacing his sword at his hip and throwing the cloth over his shoulder to the guards. "I'll have to charge you."
"You damaged him yourself." The amanto grunted, gesturing to the blood pooling beneath Gintoki's limp left arm.
"Then we'll call it even. Now you've seen for yourself, how much will you pay to be the ones to kill them?"
"The Shiroyasha ain't a threat to us any more." The second amanto mused, turning his gaze to Hijikata who bristled instantly under three gleaming blue eyes. "The shinsengumi, on the other hand … Shame you couldn't have got rid of them all." Hijikata refrained from cursing at them, though it was a struggle.
"We sell you the vice-commander. What you do with him is up to you." The man shrugged.
"So we use the Queen bee to trap the nest? I like your thinking, Adachi-san."
"I never said anything," Adachi commented lightly. "I just said that once you buy him, you can do what you like."
"Then what about the Shiroyasha?"" The second amanto returned the conversation to Gintoki as the first amanto backed up towards the door again.
"We buy him too. I could have hours of fun with the Shiroyasha." The first amanto said, grinning to display a less than full set of yellowed teeth. Hijikata narrowed his eyes once more, wishing he wasn't metaphorically bound so that he could smash each of their faces into the nearest concrete surface. Multiple times.
A hiss sounded from beside him.
It wasn't an aggressive hiss; Gintoki was paling quickly. He cradled his bleeding arm in his lap and huffed sharp, short breaths, sweat beading on his forehead. Hijikata swallowed. Adachi hummed.
"Re-opened old wounds, I see." He said, offhandedly. Hijikata shot him a murderous look and Adachi laughed. "Don't worry, I take care of my stock. I'll send a medic over later. If he lasts long enough."
"Bastard-!"
"I hope the goods were as you had hoped. Come, we'll discuss a healthy price." Adachi beckoned the amanto and his guards out of the room, the door thudding shut with an ominous and decisive click.
After a few seconds of strained listening, Hijikata let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.
"Gintoki."
"Back to the blood loss and pain." The man grunted. Hijikata scooted around to re-dress the wound. He carefully pulled the material from Gintoki's arm where it had begun to stick. There was enough blood still oozing gently to lubricate it though, so it slipped off with relatively few winces (of sympathy from Hijikata). Hijikata unbuttoned his shirt and removed his cravat, shaking it a few times before he pulled it tightly around the wound. "I want a normal weekend. One with parfait and Ketsuno Ana and drama re-runs. Is that too much to ask?"
"Maybe for the Shiroyasha." Hijikata shrugged. He tied off the cloth and sat on Gintoki's left hand side so that the wounded arm could be propped alleviated on Hijikata's knee. Gintoki gave him a look.
"Don't you dare get all diva on me because of that."
"'m not." The very smallest amount of bottom lip protruded outwards.
"Mmm." Gintoki replied half-heartedly. Usually, he'd be quick to respond with a sharp, scathing reply, but it was evident that he was starting to struggle to remain lively. His arm twitched slowly, as though Gintoki was trying to lift it and it just wasn't listening. He gave in with a sigh.
"Consider us equal."
"Hm?"
"You put me in danger then you saved me. Equal."
"Like a damsel in-"
"Don't you dare say it." Hijikata delivered a sharp whack to the already injured silver samurai.
"How have you survived in the police this long when you career head first into danger like that?"
"Occupational hazard." He shrugged.
"Sure, but when I'm fixing roofs I don't run up the draining pipe and stand on the tiles like a flamingo. There's doing your job and there's being an idiot."
"And you're an idiot. And you don't work. You really are the lowest."
"There's no end to your witty humour, is there?"
"I don't know, try me."
"Hmph." Gintoki snorted again. He shuffled a little to extend his aching limbs and grunted in discomfort. "Hey, Tosshi-"
"Don't call me-"
"Tosshi-chan~."
"-that."
"Lend an old man your shoulder." His head of wavy locks settled onto Hijikata's tensed shoulder before he could reply. Though it was always going to be a 'no'. He was about to shake his shoulder until the bug on it flopped off, but one muffled grunt made him pause. Gintoki turned his head in towards Hijikata's shoulder, hiding his squinting expression. Hijikata sighed, relaxing reluctantly in acceptance.
He didn't know which old wound was playing up and he didn't dare look. He was afraid of seeing that gun-shot wound once more, the pinker slice of skin on porcelain white, the dark bruising and swelling around battered ribs …
Gintoki's breathing slowed and settled into a barely audible tickle against Hijikata's neck. He assumed that the former was unconscious or had fallen asleep. Either way, there wasn't much he could do about it except lend the tired man his shoulder for a while. If he were not forced to be sitting here, he'd be pacing. His internal pain was doubled when he reached into his pocket and felt the air where his lighter usually sat. The place where he held cigarettes was also disgustingly empty and that sent a shiver of foreboding down Hijikata's spine: how long would he have to go without a cigarette?
Maybe this was his opportunity to quit.
If only things were that easy. His fingertips were already yearning to grasp one between them and settle the tube between his lips. He felt empty and agitated now that he knew that he couldn't and would have to distract himself somehow. That was easier said than done, since his only source of entertainment was his thoughts and the sleeping, wounded warrior now draped across him. Gintoki had been, admittedly, a good source of entertainment to pass the time which would otherwise be spent cursing over his lack of power. At this moment in time, there were three main concerns swirling around Hijikata's brain.
First and foremost was Gintoki, though he loathed to admit that. It was the idiot's fault they were here in the first place, but the guy was still recovering from severe injuries and had now suffered a few more to add to this growing list. The blood loss wasn't too bad, but the risk of it growing infected was an increasing and likely concern. Gintoki would probably be the type to pick scabs too – gross. The second issue he had was the obvious one; he was trapped. Where was he? How could he get out? He couldn't answer either of these questions. There was a good chance that Kondou would start investigating his disappearance very soon, if not already, and he had faith that the Shinsengumi would not disappoint in finding him. This meant nothing, however, if he was degraded to be used as a hostage. It was hard to move when hostages were involved. This worry was tied into Gintoki once more, as Gintoki's closest allies and friends were also at risk. They couldn't be rash about this. It was difficult for him to admit, but Hijikata knew that their enemies were one step from checkmate. Moreover, Gintoki had a 'plan' … and that could never be good.
Although, his mind wondered back to the notes he'd read up on the Shiroyasha. The Shiroyasha, Gintoki, had apparently handled covert operations and tactics. The messy perm head could very possibly have more of a brain beneath those curls than he let on. That still didn't give him any faith – a guy who ate his weight in sugar every day could hardly be trusted.
The third worry he had was the apparent lack of cigarettes, obviously. He'd just have to man up on that one.
Hijikata set about brainstorming his two main concerns – Gintoki's first aid requirement and their escape plot – whilst what seemed like hours of silence crept by. There were no sounds coming from outside; the most he could hear was the gentle creaking of an old building. There were no footsteps or bangs, no talking and overall, Hijikata was just wrapped up in the breathing of a certain fool that was now full-on drooling across his lap. Asleep, it turned out, as the bastard had muttered something about parfait and nearly knocked Hijikata out with a whack to the face when he rolled over. Hijikata satisfied his anger by squeezing Gintoki's nostrils shut and relishing in the way he wriggled uncomfortably in his sleep. He didn't want to wake him though (as this would be a greater pain) so eventually he let go and set about glaring at the perm in his lap.
White hair, how hadn't he guessed? Plus he was the protagonist and they always had tragic back-stories. It wasn't exactly white though, or silver as the title would suggest. Instead, it had a sort of blue shimmer to it. Hijikata tugged at a few curls to watch the way it glimmered. The way it refused to straighten out pissed him off; each time he let go each lock bounced back into shape. He kept tugging at different strands and it became more of a game than a way of placating the need to aggravate Gintoki even in his dreams. Hijikata began to plait the short locks together, like he'd been taught by Mitsuba when he was younger. He was surprised he remembered how to do it, but what was more shocking was that the plait was actually holding.
By the time Gintoki came to, his hair (unbeknownst to him) was trapped into a few plaits that stemmed from his crown to the nape of his neck. Strands jutted out everywhere like static, but for the most part Gintoki's thick hair kept them glued together. Hijikata had long since stopped bothering the sleeping Gintoki and instead was reciting the back of a mayonnaise bottle to keep him preoccupied. He felt Gintoki stir on his lap and then sit up wearily with a barely concealed wince as he straightened. With a yawn, he scrubbed at his eyes and then focussed lazily on Hijikata whilst the latter refrained from laughing at his own masterpiece.
"Oh, you're still here."
"Where the fuck did you expect me to go?"
"..." Gintoki looked around, confusion evident in his features. Then everything seemed to click and he frowned, bottom lip creeping outwards in a pout. "Oh yeah. We're still here."
"Thanks to you."
"You're welcome."
"How are you feeling?"
"Kind of tired and like I could do with a parfait."
"I meant your injuries, you sugar addicted oaf."
"Any news?"
"Obviously not, and don't change the subject."
"I thought you'd be planning an escape, vice-commander of the Shinsengumi. Or are you really just a waste of my taxes?"
"Like hell you pay them anyway!"
"No escape route then?" Gintoki grinned and that exploded Hijikata's patience.
"I might do! But I sure as hell won't be bringing you with me! Anyway, you're the one who said you had a plan! Or was that a- ah. You changed the subject." Gintoki stifled his laughter behind his hands and turned his face away as Hijikata burned silently from his cheeks right into the tips of his ears. "No, there's no news or plan. I honestly can't think of a way out of here whilst you're in this condition."
"So it's my fault?"
"Everything is your fault." Hijikata took this opportunity to straighten his legs and let the blood back into them. His ankle still ached nastily, but he was positive it wasn't broken and a little rest would do it good. He had plenty of time to rest anyway. There was only a tiny bit of swelling and no discolouration, so he had probably been pessimistic earlier. Gintoki had descended into silence as he also got to his feet and walked up and down the room. Hijikata indirectly kept an eye on him in his peripherals.
"Prior warning." Gintoki announced as he stopped moving. "I'm going to strip and check something out."
"M'kay." Hijikata looked away on instinct as Gintoki began to shrug off his yukata with one arm. It was obvious that he was struggling and it took several loud sighs on Hijikata's end before he glanced over, irritated.
"What the fuck's with you?" Gintoki grunted, still fiddling with his belt.
"Just ask me for help, you damn cripple."
"M' managing just fine!" The belt fell undone and dropped to the floor. Next he worked on stepping out of his yukata. When he finally came to unzipping his black top, Hijikata stopped glaring. He didn't know whether to carry on watching and observe whatever damage Gintoki had befallen, or to avert his eyes. He really didn't want to see Gintoki's injuries again and be reminded of his frozen pallor on a hospital bed, but then again, it was important that he knew.
Gintoki apparently wasn't going to give him a choice anyway; he faced away from him, opening his shirt to peek at his chest. His right hand wandered across, padding gently to test the bruising that Hijikata couldn't see but still knew was there. He didn't let a single wince show. Once he was satisfied, he zipped up and shimmied back into his yukata.
"Good?"
"All good." Gintoki nodded. "Still sexy."
"Shut up."
….
AN-
Phew. Omg. Long chapters wear me out.