FEBRUUS: The month of sacrifices and purification – clean the mind, clean the body, clean the soul, clean the house and hope you don't find anything incriminating of Gintoki's. Part of the 12 Month Series - one fic for every Roman month

Work Text:

THE HEART

"Yer'v got so much shit in this house, Gintoki," Hijikata complained, throwing yet another stack of JUMP out of the cupboard and into the corridor. He was running out of space behind him. The stacks of junk were slowly creeping up on all sides and the little escape alleyway he'd created was becoming narrower. There was a yell from the other side of the apartment – Gintoki making some sort of quick retort – followed by a clatter of something falling and the muffled yelps from him. "I hope it fell on yer head, idiot."

There was no response so Hijikata assumed he was dead and said good riddance to the annoyance in his life. He continued pulling out empty plastic bags, sacks of rice, broken mops, rolled up rugs, scraps of paper … the pile of crap never seemed to end. No noise had broken the unusual silence since Gintoki's yelp, which only worried Hijikata. Silence was never good – the bastard would either be sleeping or plotting something. Neither was a pleasant thought. They'd never get this damn house clean if Hijikata was the only one doing anything, added to the fact that the pile behind him sometimes mysteriously disappeared, and Gintoki was caught either salvaging parts of the stash or slacking off reading old JUMP magazines.

"Yer better not be napping, Gintoki!"

No response. Hijikata sighed and soldiered on alone. He'd offered to help out after Gintoki had guilt tripped him following at least five planned date nights Hijikata had needed to cancel because of work. Gintoki had pretended to sulk for perhaps two minutes, until Hijikata suggested he might help him with the spring cleaning. Now that Shinpachi was working at the dojo full-time and Kagura was off monster hunting, there was no-one to do Gintoki's chores for him and the rubbish had just kept piling up. Hijikata could only wonder how he'd survived on his own until now. Because of this, he was cursing the remorse he'd felt for even a second for this man – why had he felt guilty for someone like this?

"What the fuck is this?" Hijikata mused as he picked up a doll that had been squeezed between two boxes. The material was faded, the blue dress almost grey now and it had a fusty smell. One button eye was hanging by a thread.

"Don't throw that," Gintoki's voice appeared and Hijikata managed to find his face over the top of the rubbish piles. He leaned against the doorway, picking his nose. "S'from a little girl. I did a job for her."

"And this?" Hijikata lifted the next item of curiosity in the gap between boxes. It was a necklace with a gold chain and bright red gem that looked to be fake.

"An old woman when I found her husband's inhaler."

"And…" he riffled through the junk, "this?"

"A footbath from the lady that owns the spa. I scared off the stalkers following her." Hijikata kept pulling out more and more objects, each as bizarre as the one before. "A book from the old man down the road when I painted his fence. A hand carved monkey ornament from the kid that broke his arm and couldn't do his homework. A gem encrusted flower vase from the ugly woman with the vampire tooth. She said she wanted me to fix her TV, but I think she was just lonely."

"No wonder you're broke. You let people pay you in crap."

"They're all items that meant something to someone," Gintoki shrugged. "They're worth more than a couple of yen."

"This is why you don't pay your rent, you fool." He found a tattered scrap of paper tucked away, a handwritten note scrawled on the front. "What's this?"

Thank you, Gintoki. You saved me more than all it said.

"I killed her husband." Gintoki replied, his eyes steady and the nonchalant slouch to his posture suddenly gone. Hijikata's eyes bloomed wide, at a loss for how to respond. "I came to ask if you want a drink. We've been going for a while."

"Uh, yeah," he nodded, mouth still agape. "Please."

Gintoki vanished around the corner and Hijikata heard the hiss of the kettle sound. He stared at the note, the words throbbing on the page. The paper had been folded in four with a slight tear in the right corner. Other than that, there was nothing much to the note. It gave nothing away, much like the owner of the note. He got to his feet, tiptoeing through the mess around him, being careful not to knock anything over.

"Hey," he called, when Gintoki finally came into view. "Are you going to explain that?" He waved the note in the air. Gintoki regarded it over one shoulder without so much as a flicker in his expression.

"Not today," he responded, returning his attention to the kitchen side.

Hijikata couldn't argue with that. It was progress at least. Progress that had occurred on both sides. In the beginning, everything was a secret between them. Who they'd been, who they'd loved, what they felt, what they dreamed of at night … now at least, there was an intention to talk. Even if he couldn't yet, he had expressed a desire to try.

His interest fell back to the note, leveling the creases with his fingertips as he thought.

"Don't," Gintoki said, coolly.

"Don't what?"

"Imagine. Whatever you're imagining."

"You can't stop me from thinking."

"Can't I?" His smile was playful and suspicious. Hijikata was instantly on guard. Gintoki laughed, lightly. "You're amusing, Oogushi-kun."

"Don't call me that, it's a stupid nick-name."

"Stupid nick-name for a stupid guy," he commented and thrust a hot mug into his hands. "Here."

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Here," he returned the note. "Do what you want with it."

"Hmm," Gintoki replied, taking it cautiously, folding it along the lines. He tucked it into his yukata.

They flopped onto the sofa in their usual positions; Gintoki laid on his side scratching his stomach with one hand, Hijikata perched on one end with his legs and arms crossed. Gintoki flicked on the TV to a channel with some mindless programme on. He yawned, adding a small murmur of satisfaction to the end. They'd been up late last night as Kagura had promised to video call them but had been kept by … something or other. Now that he thought about it, Hijikata remembered that she'd breezed over the reason. Probably for the best. Gintoki worried as it was, even though he laughed and joked like her monster hunting was some sort of hobby, and not often a life or death battle.

"Your hair is getting long," Gintoki noted. "You best get it cut or some female monster will use it against you. I've seen women fight – they use anything. Teeth, claws, hair. If you don't get it cut off some big burly amanto lady will be dragging you through space."

"Women often slap when they fight," Hijikata nodded, knowingly. "And that sounds like an insult but if you pull it off, slaps are more powerful than punches. They do some damage."

"Gin-chan also slaps; I've seen him."

"That's right," Gintoki hummed, swallowing a spoonful of strawberry yoghurt he'd conjured from somewhere, "Have you ever seen a woman lose, eh? I haven't."

"It's all about practice, isn't that so, Gin-chan? That's what you told me." Hijikata raised an eyebrow as that definitely didn't sound like something Gintoki would say without a catch. "If I keep practicing, I can achieve my bankai."

"That's right, Kagura, just keep practicing every night," Gintoki drawled and Hijikata gave him a look. He was starting to feel more and more like the only voice of reason in this household.

With a quick glance down at Gintoki, he realised the man wasn't concentrating on the screen. His eyes were hazy, like he was looking at something far away. He swirled the hot chocolate in his mug automatically, his body seemingly on autopilot as his brain wandered off elsewhere. He was probably thinking about that note. There was a good chance Gintoki wouldn't sleep tonight, as often he didn't when something was on his mind. He'd pretend to doze off as usual, but Hijikata – who had always been a light sleeper – would hear him sneak out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Most of the time, he'd get up and move to the corner of the room. He'd slouch against the wall and look up out of the window on the far side, the shine of the moon glowing across his face. For hours, he'd sit like that, eyes completely alert like sleep was a foreign notion to him. Eventually, he'd crawl back into bed beside Hijikata, his body now cold from the evening air.

Hijikata didn't have trouble sleeping like Gintoki did. He was able to push negative thoughts aside for enough time for sleep to consume him. He did get nightmares though, and these often woke him in a cold sweat. They were both dealing with their own demons. Well, perhaps 'dealing with' was the wrong term – surviving with. There didn't seem to be any way to get rid of them. When Hijikata emerged from his thoughts, he realised that Gintoki was staring at him. Once he caught the look, Gintoki silenced the television and shuffled to sit upright.

"She asked me to help her," he began, and Hijikata blinked in surprise. This was something special, he knew. Gintoki was confiding in him. "She didn't even know what help she needed. Her husband was beating her. When she told me about it, she was confused herself. She was telling me that she wanted her husband to stop hitting her, but she was reasoning with me why he needed to – she would apparently do things to annoy him. Things like, leaving the door unlocked by accident when she went out, forgetting to buy milk, talking about her friends even when she knew her husband didn't get on with them. She was telling me why she deserved to get hit, but she was also pleading me to get him to stop."

Hijikata didn't speak and let the story wash over him. In the back of his mind, he marvelled at the man who often dropped everything to help others and expected nothing in return. For all the stupid jokes he made, he saved people. He'd saved Kagura and Shinpachi, Shinpachi's sister, even Kondo. And even when he complained about it, pretending he didn't care, the man would abandon all regard for himself to help others.

"She didn't want him harmed, but she came to me with a swelling on her eye like a balloon, and burns on her hands where he'd forced her to lean on the hob – still hot from where it had been recently used – in order to escape him. He'd pinned her to the bed and raped her. She didn't consider it rape, since she loved him. Despite all this, she loved him."

Gintoki's eyes remained even as he told the story, unwavering, emotionless. He was simply reciting the facts to Hijikata, eradicating all his thoughts from the story. It was almost like he couldn't react to it, else he wouldn't be able to carry on the tale.

"I investigated. I wasn't sure what I could do for her. I knew if I got too close, I could cause him to blow up. I followed him and caught him cheating. He got drunk in a bar and went back with a prostitute. It shouldn't matter – it really shouldn't have mattered. He was already the lowest scum of them all. Cheating didn't add to his sentence. I wondered if I should tell her, or if it would break her. Maybe, she'd stay with him and confront him about it … and then the worst could happen. So … in the end, I didn't know."

Now, Gintoki looked away. He watched the muted characters on the television dance across the screen, the bright reflection in his eyes playing out in reverse. For a minute, Hijikata wondered if he was going to continue the story, or if this was as far as he could get today. And even though he needed to know the end now as he had become more than invested in the outcome, that would have to do – Gintoki had tried enough for one day. He was never usually this forthcoming with his torments. In the end, Hijikata watched the bob of his throat as Gintoki swallowed, before continuing.

"I convinced her to leave him. I told her to gather everything while he was out and leave without saying goodbye. Up and go. I told her to stay with someone she trusted, but not somewhere he could find her. It took a lot of time to convince her, but one night he did the persuading for me: he hit her so hard she cracked her skull and had to go to hospital. He visited her and brought her flowers. She played along, all the while knowing she would not be going back to his home. The morning of her discharge, she asked me to gather her things for her while he was out. He was supposed to be working. As it turned out, he'd been fired a few days before for turning up to work drunk.

"I didn't know that, so I crept into the house and began to pack her things. She already had a bag prepped for 'emergencies'. She waited across the road for me, hiding in the shop across from her house. At that point, she must have seen him come home. I heard him coming and hid from sight. Despite that, she rushed back. When he saw her things missing, he knew immediately what she had been trying to do. He started to beat her worse than ever before. Of course, I came out to stop him. Seeing another man in his house only made him wilder with rage. He came at me with a knife, then tried to get to her … so I killed him."

The sentence stunned Hijikata as the scene played out vividly in his mind. He watched Gintoki inside his head, running out to stand between the maddened man and his wife. He saw the man pick up the knife from the kitchen side and prepare to stab him, then decide to turn his rage where he always did – to his wife. And that's where Hijikata's vision began to blur. He couldn't imagine Gintoki killing a man in that moment, even though there was nothing in his morals that thought it would be wrong to at that instant.

"What really happened?" He asked, the words falling out of his mouth before he'd thought about them. Gintoki blinked, looking shocked.

"Pardon?"

"You're not lying … but you're not telling the exact truth, are you?" Hijikata cocked his head to one side. Gintoki regarded him, stunned. After a second, a small smile cracked his lips.

"Well, look here, Mr Holmes. I knew you were a policeman but a detective?" Gintoki closed his eyes and at last the pain was evident as his expression faltered, remembering with discomfort the actual events. "She was the one who picked up the knife. She tried to protect me from him and stabbed him. After that, she hyperventilated so much that she passed out. When she awoke, her memories were hazy of the incident."

"So, you told her that you'd killed him, not her?"

Gintoki shrugged, his palms falling into his lap where he stared at them, not blinking. "I think she knew all along … but the lie was nice to believe for a little while. I don't know when she remembered … or evenifshe remembered – she was bright enough to guess. In the beginning, she looked at me with terror and confusion. I decided I shouldn't see her again. But eventually, I received this note under the door."

"You saved her life."

"Maybe," Gintoki said, "Or maybe not."

"No, you did. Even if he'd never have killed her, even if she'd eventually left, she'd always have lived in fear."

"You talk like you know."

"I don't need to live it to know." Hijikata shuffled across on the sofa. He lifted one hand and cupped Gintoki's cheek. Gintoki leaned into it, his gaze steady on Hijikata's. They bumped foreheads, gently, and Hijikata's hand moved down his neck, onto his chest. "Don't questionthis," he said, prodding the skin on the left side of Gintoki's chest. "Becausethisis selfless. It isn't wrong."

"What about this?" Gintoki gestured to Hijikata's own heart, two fingers trailing his collarbone.

"It's selfish," he replied, leaning in to kiss him. "It only ever wants more of you."