Chapter Text
Wavering
Sakata Gintoki/Hijikata Toshiro
It's somewhere between nightfall and dawn when he first hears it; he's drunk off his ringer, nearly wasted, fully ready to throw up and pass out in the garbage somewhere on the streets. Sougo is awfully quiet, though him joining the natural perm for a drink is a normal occurrence, and this is what prompts him to pipe up above his heaving hiccups and garbled thoughts, "Soichiro-kun, what's wrong with you? Don't tell me that mayora bastard-"
"Its Sougo, and he's still alive", Sougo sips his drink, and the words don't hold the normal resentment when he states the fact.
"Okay, so I see why you're grumbling, but honestly I'd be surprised if he let his guard slip for even half a second considering he looks like he's perpetually got a stick up his ass. Speaking of which, does he? I bet when he's relieving himself he reads the weirdest-"
"He's never done that", is the simple, curt reply that cuts him off and sobers him up just the little bit enough to push himself up and ponder if Sougo meant his vice commander had never done the deed or never relieved himself, the latter more ridiculous sounding. He couldn't, for the life of him, know what Sougo could possibly mean so he leans against his hand and asks, "Never done what, Soichiro-kun?"
Sougo looks so sober it's ridiculous, his hair is messier and tousled and his uniform sloppily put on, it's then that he notices the red outlines of tears. He almost dismisses his question as a wasted effort but the answer pipes up softly, "He's never pleasured himself or let anybody else pleasure him. And it's Sougo not Soichiro."
Gintoki had never heard something so ridiculous in his entire life, honestly that V-bangs bastard was around the same age as him and had never done a perverted thing in his life? He scoffs in a mixture of jealousy and pity and downs the rest of his drink before wandering out of the bar, forgetting he had been talking to Sougo at all while still being haunted by the blotched paths of skin where his tears and clumped. But why on earth had the sadist been crying at all? Because of the Mayora? Because the Mayora had never done anything sexual? Why would Sougo of all people care at all about that?
It's only when he wakes up in Shinpachi's house with a massive hangover and a gorilla muttering from under the floorboards telling him yesterday was Okita Mitsuba's death anniversary that he finally understands why Sougo was crying and defending Hijikata. The guy might've been an asshole, but Sougo couldn't hate him with the conviction he should have, only because he made practical decisions and because he hadn't loved a single person before or since, and didn't give a single person what his sister never had.
---
It's noon on a Thursday when he notices for the first time. He's strolling down the streets towards the Yorozuya having just finished a full size parfait and bailing out of paying for it by dumping the cup on Katsura with a faint, "We war buddies gotta stick together Zura." No doubt the long haired idiot was broke too, but the day was so warm and the streets so pleasant that he couldn't care less how Katsura would pay. He spots Hijikata in the shop that they both frequent, and a morbid curiosity brings him through the entrance chanting, "The usual for me!"
He takes the seat next to Hijikata and smiles in a ridiculously forced way, earning a scoff. But that's it. Gintoki isn't hit, yelled at, kicked, or even glared at. "Did you finally get into anger management Oogushi-kun?" He prompts, when the owner of the shop puts down his Uji Gintoki-don. Hijikata doesn't look up, eyes fixated on the rice in front of him and it's then that the silver-haired man notices there isn't a single speck of mayonnaise. Nothing. Absolutely none.
His eyes widen and he looks up at blank, empty blue eyes. Gintoki had unfortunately been around the Mayora so long that he knew the bastard's kaleidoscope blue eyes better than he knew the stories of his JUMP, which was ridiculous in itself but which also led to him actually noticing that these were the eyes of a stranger. "Oi, Oogushi-kun, don't ignore somebody when they're talking to you", he flounders with the words, trying to sound indifferent but he couldn't help the panic that had risen to his throat and forced the waver in his voice. A metal lighter flicks in Hijikata's hand and that's when the panic sets in fully, clenching at Gintoki's chest like barbed chains. Still he receives no response, only the silent clicking of the wooden chopsticks as Hijikata eats flavoured rice quietly. Gintoki is gripping the table so hard by now his knuckles have turned white and for the love of him he couldn't understand why he was getting this worked up. Was it because of Hijikata's ridiculously purity? Did he not want to see him break? Was he afraid?
Like a ton of bricks, suddenly it hit him. It was because those eyes were the ones he had procured in the fucking war, surrounded by corpses as company and drenched in blood and sweat. The eyes of a mindless killer, a soulless demon, nothing less than a monster. Anxious denial swells through his veins, burning his skin and leaving tingles of fire everywhere because no, Hijikata fucking Toshirou is not supposed to have eyes like that.
Hijikata's eyes were meant to be blazoned with anger and a tinge of fondness, sometimes embarrassment and a satisfaction of his position in life, those eyes were blue and bright and full of life, drowning Gintoki in the sheer volume of the emotion behind them. Those eyes were beautiful and sparkling under the sheen of glares and authority, and why the hell was he looking like this now? Before Gintoki could register, his hands had grabbed tightly, almost desperately, the uniform collar of the man beside him, and pulled him close enough to feel the other's breath against his lips.
He knew his eyes were undisguised, swirling pits of panic and he was shivering, clutching onto the black fabric like a lifeline. Yet he still wasn't pushed away, wasn't punched in the face, didn't have to dodge a twisted sword. Hijikata's eyes remained blank, his body limp as it was yanked, not a trace of resistance on his face. Gintoki felt his heart stop when his lips parted in a small puff of breath, "...My name isn't what you called me." Is all he says, and Gintoki feels his lips quivering and something like daggers of cold fire pricking his eyes. But Hijikata speaks again, quietly, as if he hadn't the strength, "Who the hell is Oogushi?"
Gintoki chokes heavily on whatever is caught in his throat, and can't bring himself to care about the desperation in his voice, "Hijikata. Hijikata. Hijikata. God, please look at me!" And he swore to the heavens when his voice broke that if Hijikata would stop giving him that look, Gintoki would never call him Oogushi-kun again.
---
The warm air of Friday trickled through the window, dousing the night's cold and rousing what would've been a heavily-hungover Gintoki. But he had never gone to sleep at all, haunted by the last words he had heard from Hijikata that previous day, "...that's my name isn't it? Is it?"
Gintoki had bolted after that, leaving his food untouched and a raging madness surging up in his veins, a bloodlust conquering him and demanding he found whoever or whatever had done this to Hijikata. So when the sun peeked at Edo, casting amber hues over the bleached buildings, he scrambled out of the curled up mess he had been and stuffed his feet in his boots, stopping momentarily to brush his teeth and use the bathroom, not that he had to considering he hadn't eaten a damned thing since that parfait yesterday. Not even Otose was up and yelling for rent when he stumbled out of his house and down the stairs with no coordination whatsoever, and normally Gintoki would revel in the quietude. Not today.
It surprises even him that he knew today was the day on which Kondo, Sougo and Hijikata took their rounds together, and he knew the exact route so it wasn't even with a pachinko parlour in his mind that he dashed for the area, to hell with the consequences. It's still early, most shops closed and streets empty, when he finally crosses the trio. It suddenly occurs to him that he has not a shred of an excuse to be in this area at this time seeing these people; he's refusing to dub himself a stalker because he doesn't even know how he recalled Hijikata's patrol schedule, but goddammit that look is still in his eyes and Sougo isn't holding a cannon and Kondo isn't laughing maniacally with an arm around his shoulders talking about Tae. No, Sougo's the one with a hand on Hijikata's shoulder, not an explosive in sight, and Kondo's reserved smile doesn't turn their way; he looks almost despondent. Hijikata walks on, hands stuffed in his pockets out of habit, an unlit cigarette between his teeth and pale lips.
Gintoki's frozen, and has no logical term for the relentless clawing he's feeling in his chest, or the burning lava that's in his throat, and notes that something is caught there again. "Fancy meeting you here, Yorozuya", Kondo lets out, calm and quiet, breaking the silence of the morning. Sougo gently pushes Hijikata behind him with one protective arm, glaring at the Yorozuya like a fire-spitting beast from the seventh level of hell. Gintoki stares quietly when Hijikata says nothing, head hanging and eyes almost shadowed, but he can still see the complete lifelessness in them where stars were meant to swirl. "What do you want, Danna?" Is what prompts him from his rising panic, and he realises he hasn't moved, not said a single word to acknowledge Kondo, unknowingly giving away that he had come here knowing they would be here. Red eyes widen with fear and his whole being screams 'No' when Hijikata lifts his head, the ghost of a smile on lips that allow the cigarette to fall out without a seeming care in the world, and mumbles, "Gintoki" like it's a prayer.
It's then that he realises he's wanted a hundred and more times to hear that voice say his name, but not once like this. Not like this.
The sound itself prompts both other officers to falter, Sougo's panicked gaze turns to his superior, uncharacteristic worry flashing through his eyes as he rests shaking fingers on the taller man's shoulders briefly before anger twists his frown into a snarl and he's lunging at Gintoki with the rage of a demon who'd been released after a thousand years. Gintoki's back slams against the wall, his legs are still shaking so he's glad for the support, and Sougo's yanked the collar of his black leather shirt and part of the half drawn on yukata. "You bastard, what did you do to him?!" Is the deep growling yell that emanates from the normally more docile boy who delivers threats with a smile from the land of sadists. Gintoki can't answer, the words are caught in his mouth and Kondo's eyes are shaded, his smile has dropped. He hadn't done a single thing to warrant Hijikata turning into this, but the thought it might have been his fault turns his insides to ash still cracking away in the wind.
A shorter figure with smooth black hair curling at his nape runs towards them, specifically the vice commander, and Sougo is away from Gintoki and in front of Hijikata like a protective best friend and okay when did that happen? What's even more ridiculous is that Gintoki is standing next to him, body having moved on it's own. Kondo pipes up softly when Yamazaki stops short, "Toshi? It's Zaki, you know, Yamazaki?"
"Sagaru?" Is the response, followed by a stream of orders which means he can still do his job but Yamazaki looks petrified; horrified even, like he's about to be killed right there. Kondo is breathing in almost sighs and Sougo draws in a breath sharply. Immediately he knows it's because the Vice Commander had never once called Yamazaki by his name. Yamazaki looks like he's going to faint, and in a last ditch effort calls out, "Vice-Commander, I was out playing badminton all day yesterday! I'm sorry!" And that's the heaviest he can give, knowing if he was chased and beaten to death it would be worth it, but he wasn't. "That's alright, Sagaru", comes the muted response. Sougo chokes.
"Hijikata-san-!" Sougo's looking at him like a lost little brother, eyes frazzled with too many emotions and Gintoki knows his heart slows. Kondo motions, and Yamazaki is running, not before the flash of tears catches the light of the sun. "Sougo, aren't we on patrol?" And just like that, they're gone, leaving Gintoki too stunned to even move.
It's on a Friday that Gintoki realises he cares more than he's admitting and has observed more than he's comfortable with about the Vice-Commander.
---
It slams against Hijikata too hard and too heavily on Mitsuba's birthday that he's been trying too much for people who care too little. He's repairing his door when his hand slips and the hammer falls to the ground with a clatter, he doesn't dodge Sougo's missile and is in the hospital for a week.
He's tired, exhausted both mentally and physically by people and work and just the sheer amount he does to get people to respect him instead of tossing him around like a ragdoll that had been around for too long. It starts with his voice failing, and his joints hurting with a dull pain like there's wax under his skin. His legs give out, then his arms feel heavier, till he's entirely lead weight and dying on his feet. He had failed. Failed to keep his promise to Mitsuba to light up the world, failed to keep people he cared for by his side, failed to gain enough respect, failed to become someone worthy of Edo. The streets and food lose meaning; everything tastes like dry sponge so he doesn't even bother himself to buy mayonnaise, and metal lighters are smaller so he buys one.
Placing a cigarette between his lips became habit, he rarely ever lit one after that week, and everything seemed to turn monochrome. It just wasn't worth trying anymore. At first he wanted to explode in rage, he wanted to burn everything down and go on a killing rampage, but not a single thing could be done; he's not that person anymore. So he gives up, slowly, surely, piece by piece discarding the image he had built, giving orders only through memory of how they should be. If Sougo wanted to kill him at this moment, not a single protest would have been voiced and not a single muscle tensed to jump away. He doesn't bother to cut his hair even when the strands are in his face more than usual or the ends brush his nape, and he doesn't bother to yell "Seppuku!" At everyone who disobeyed orders. For a reason he couldn't place however, they all seemed to follow orders quickly and efficiently the minute the words left his lips. Maybe it was just the sheer emptiness in his soul but his functionality was on autopilot and his character discarded like a cloak.
His door rattled as Sougo entered the room, Kondo trailing and a silence between them so thick it felt weighted, "Hijikata-san?" He tries to reply with a snark or a glare or a puff off smoke but he can't bring his hands to the lighter, he really tries but his lips don't move. His chin dips in a nod and that's the most he can do, expecting and slightly even hoping he gets a grenade to the face, but nothing hits him. Hijikata's surroundings don't quite register besides that he knows this is his room and vaguely where everything is, a huge fall from his knowing the exact position of every item in every place he was in. Sougo's sitting in front of him now, and Kondo is by his side. He can't comprehend why they don't get up and leave so he speaks, "...I've finished all the paperwork, Kondo-san, Sougo."
Sougo curses under his breath, tugs Hijikata's hair so he can look at his face, and then begins to shiver. Kondo doesn't move, his eyes are shaded still and his mouth grim, and Hijikata briefly wonders why he isn't at the Shimura dojo. Maybe he wants an escort? "Kondo-san, we could accompany you to the Shimura dojo", is what he mutters softly, hardly caring that Kondo is actually his superior and should be doing his work. Sougo makes a sound, and he might have been crying if not for his dry cheeks. Was that a whimper? He doesn't get time to think about it because he's being pulled somewhere and suddenly there's black fabric in his face and two pairs of arms around him. The wretched cold is gone, it's not present inside this little haven of bodies that he realises are Sougo's and Kondo's and he breathes softly, the scent of detergent and gunpowder calming his senses even though Sougo's still shaking uncontrollably. Kondo's sobbing ceaselessly and the tears are dampening Hijikata's hair, but he can't bring himself to try to understand what's bothering them, and why they were coming to him for comfort. Still, their arms are oozing warmth that seeps through his skin and washes relief over his exhausted body. He's been overworking himself too much for too long.
Eventually however, he's let go of and a hand contracts on his shoulder briefly before the biting cold weaves it's frosty fingers through his skin again and he's unable to move enough to do more than glance as Kondo picks up the paperwork, clutching it tightly, before muttering, "Toshi, I'll take you up on offering to escort me to Otae-san's place." Hijikata's aware of what to do, he steels his legs before standing, a brief frown twisting his lips when his limbs shake slightly but neither of the others notice so he quietly clips on his sword, sliding it through the loop of his belt and dons the uniform jacket he had draped over the back of his chair. His legs carry him behind Kondo and even if they hadn't, Sougo's steering him with an arm on his shoulder as if he's a child. But he's doing his job so who's to care and what's to complain.
--
Shinpachi and Kagura are squabbling over what to make for dinner since neither would allow the boy's sister to cook a single thing in the house. The dojo is lively with their screaming and hitting and Otae's laughter, but Gintoki is quiet. They haven't noticed because he's been acting perfectly normal, and simply felt a few minutes silence while they argued was forgivable. Usually the silence drives a vice into his being and doesn't allow him to so much as breathe, thoughts and voices he'd already killed physically still haunting the plagued dreams of his half-dead mind. Can a person be alive yet a corpse? He doesn't know, he hadn't gone to school very long. But this time his feverish mind grasps instead onto the alabaster contours of a certain dark-haired man's face and just how much more it hurt to see him now than any pain from the countless times he'd been injured by him or with him before. He realises this is because he wouldn't take back a single action during any of those fights, in fact he would do it all again to protect all he had been at the time, but he would take back anything if he knew it were the cause for Hijikata's...whatever this was.
Gintoki can briefly relate it to his person at the time Kondo was to be beheaded for treason but even then he had rose to the jests Gintoki had sent and met with fervour every jaunt and jab, even then he had confusion surging through his eyes and a shiver to his soft hand and his listless frown when Gintoki had taken that punch. Hijikata had listened wide-eyed when Gintoki told him so easily, so silently of his past and his choices and it surprised even himself because that was something not even Otose and the other two Yorozuya knew, hell not even Katsura knew the exact emotion because they hadn't seen his eyes like Hijikata had, and he hadn't even looked disapproving or scornful, he looked like he had finally pieced something together that had been evading his grasp so long since their first rooftop encounter and more than anything he looked like he understood, which scared Gintoki down to the bone.
But this time there was no life in him, he walked as much of a corpse as Gintoki, yet was blameless of any fault that had been thrust upon him to make him like this. His form of self-loathing was denying himself anything he wanted, condiments, tobacco, even the leeway towards treatment of subordinates his position as Vice Commander allowed. It wasn't quite the same as Gintoki's throwing away any fortune of penny that came his way or drinking himself nearly to death, laying in alleyways among the garbage as was his place and throwing up till his throat burned from whatever he had consumed, but it wasn't quite different. A soft sigh escapes him, he's spent a lonely, alcohol-deprived month full of sleepless nights and restless days trying to place exactly why he was so worried about someone who had seemed so trivial. But he knows that's not the case, he knows his eyes flickered recognition since the day he saw Hijikata first, and he knows over the long, long years he's known the bastard that he's slowly started becoming attached.
Indifference in his body turned to what he assumed was repulsion but really was just uncalled for affection and since he'd come to terms with that fact, he was openly able to exhibit that his words were merely a friendly form of playful because he enjoyed what they had, and he enjoyed that Hijikata knew this and yet matched every mock-disgusted word with his own. He enjoyed that they could drop that and knew fully that both would stand together till hell's gate, and most of all enjoyed the silent moments when he spoke of his past in bars and road-side shops, and during which Hijikata was so so accepting and honest and welcoming, it brought a warmth to him that no evanescent liquid ever could. It's the fact that it's taken a month for the smouldering in his blood to come to glowing embers in the dawn that sets his entire soul on flames faster than if it had been doused in gasoline when Hijikata appears at the dojo doorstep.
Sougo growls and steps in front of him again, protectively, possessively, and Gintoki finds himself glaring because he believes that's far too unfair since Sougo spent practically every day he had known Hijikata trying to kill him; but to be fair after he had seen the fierce loyalty Sougo had shown when he declared he wouldn't move an inch until Hijikata asked it of him, even to rescue Kondo who both held in such high regard, Gintoki couldn't say he didn't expect this reaction. Still he glared, ignoring his mind protesting telling him Sougo had known Hijikata since he was a brat and Hijikata a teenager. The reason of them being here was obviously Kondo, but the gorilla didn't look the least bit interested in Tae at the minute, he was at the front door respectably standing five feet from her and she was stunned. "Kondo-san, Hijikata-san, Okita-kun! Would you like to come in for some tea?" And neither Sougo nor Hijikata spoke, but Kondo's smile didn't quite reach his eyes when he said, "Thank you, I apologise for the intrusion."
The three entered the compound, past Gintoki's chittering teeth and the heavy chill that washed over him as Hijikata passed. This time there wasn't even a cigarette in his mouth, and Gintoki's soft curse went thankfully unheard. "Gin-chan who's th- What's the sadist doing here?!" Kagura yelled, oblivious to the situation and lunged at him with her umbrella. Mistaking it as towards Hijikata, Sougo drew his sword, eyes flashing a raging bloody threat and countered. Gintoki's body moved on its own once more, drawing Hijikata's body to his own with a hand on his torso pulling his back to Gintoki's front, bokutō drawn in front of the other's body and eyes blazed in panic. But it was Kagura and she had been going for Sougo and now she's dropping her umbrella and asking in a worried voice, "Gin-chan?" Echoed by the same from Shinpachi and Tae.
His nose and lips briefly register that Hijikata's hair smelled and tasted insanely nice, like cherry blossoms and menthol as a shampoo, but he sputtered for an explanation as to why he did that and stepped away, dropping his weapon as his eyes widen. But somehow both Shinpachi and Tae seemed to understand he couldn't explain it, and a glance to Kagura told her not to question the matter so she kept her mouth closed, even Kondo offered a spark of gratitude from his eyes. But Sougo lost it, dropping his sword and punching Gintoki across the face faster than likely even he could comprehend, and Gintoki registered that the panic across his eyes was an angered, blind rage of a similar feeling to the one he himself felt. "Don't you dare touch him", came the venomous words and he felt himself lurch, but pale fingers touched Sougo's shoulder, "Sougo, leave him be, I doubt he understood his movement."
But oh God he did understand, he knew the reeking protective possessiveness he felt was even more explosive than Sougo's and he was containing it, he knew exactly what that was and he wasn't acknowledging it just yet. Still, Sougo was convinced, worried and anxious gaze turning to his superior and hands unclamping from Gintoki's clothes as he tried to form words, managing, "But Hijikata-san-!" And Hijikata offers a faint smile that looks so broken and so misplaced that Sougo grabs on to Hijikata's jacket and pulls till they were close enough to be embracing but weren't quite. The same pale fingers pat Sougo's light coloured hair and Gintoki feels a pang somewhere he can't place. The younger boy breathes deeply then struts forward behind Kondo who had left with the other three, but not before he had tried to steer Hijikata with his hand on the other's shoulder and received a brief shift of muscle in response, which was enough for him to leave with an agitated glare.
Fingers touched his cheek absentmindedly and Hijikata's warm breath hit his lips, smelling like cold butterscotch and vanilla essence, and his voice held none of its usual feel when he murmured to the wind, "I remember when you let me punch you. You shouldn't have." And Gintoki smiled as softly and sweetly as possible for him, and wished he didn't smell like strawberry milk cartons, "I would do it again, Hijikata-kun." Because he couldn't bring himself to say 'Oogushi-kun' again as if Hijikata wasn't worth remembering. The man's smile melted away, mouth dropping into a line that was shivering downwards and a confused voice let out a stream of shaking, broken words, "Fucked up- I couldn't- temper caught- tried for- for for Kondo-san- Yorozuya- I needed to- I shouldn't have- you can hit me- why- why- Gintoki..." And Gintoki felt more volts of electricity shock him than should've left him alive but it all came from his pounding aching heart so there was no question, in fact this was proof, of just how alive he was.
The softened, urgent call of his name again caught him in a place where he wanted to both scream and cry, but could do neither and wouldn't have anyway. Hijikata's cold, trembling fingers drop from his bruising cheek and shake in violent fists by his side that had more desire to drive his nails into his palm than to punch anyone but himself. Gintoki registers his arms winding around Hijikata's slim waist and pulling him closer before his mind can halt his movement. He's so sure Sougo will come to pull Hijikata away and punch him again but they're alone and Hijikata isn't moving more than his shuddering and ragged breaths.
Then he stops and touches Gintoki's wrists, breathing calm and even and eyes almost shaded as before as if not a thing had happened. Gintoki moves wordlessly away, and walks behind Hijikata as he strides with purposeful ease to the sitting room where Kagura is hugging her knees and eating biscuits, Shinpachi is letting the steam from the tea fog his glasses, Otae is clutching the serving tray with white knuckles, Sougo is positioned in an impatient half-crouch with a hand on the hilt of his sword and Kondo is listlessly staring outside at the trees, sitting comfortably and unnaturally, not stuffed in a closet or peeping from a tree. Everything looks so out of place and briefly he can't stand that this is because of Hijikata and briefly he wonders if he should hate him but then he notes that it's not Hijikata's fault.
The man is trying his hardest given his state, doing his work and taking his patrols and escorting his superiors where-so-ever they desire to go, but that's what's utterly wrong. Not the doing in itself because Hijikata has always been perfection beyond belief but the lack of permanent furrow in his brows and deliberate weight in his steps carrying an air of superiority, without the blunt retorts and yelling at everyone who dared move a hair out of order in his breathing space, without the constant demands of Seppuku for this or disembowel yourself for that, without the ungodly mayonnaise stream he thrived in and the chain smoking disaster that his lungs were, Hijikata just wasn't himself. He wasn't doing a single thing morally or physically wrong but psychologically had thrown everyone around him into a disarray he couldn't have predicted and it just wasn't humane to believe that they all accept the lie of being alright because that lie was stiff.
Still it horrifies Gintoki to see Shinpachi, Tae and Kagura return to laughing, screaming regularity after witnessing the soul-shattering unfamiliarity in the prussian of those eyes, he's disgusted by the thought that perhaps they hadn't noticed at all and he's out the door before they can talk of tagging along. He realises Hijikata knew the laughably small number of people who would chase behind his crumbling figure in the distance, and he realised the bastard knew exactly what those people would do. Nothing. Not a single thing because they were all cowards.