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A harsh cough resonated through the small shack. A small boy with large blue eyes hurried inside a room, with a cup held in his hands. He sat next to the person that was coughing, a frail woman with dull black hair that was once beautiful, and eyes the same color of the child next to her. She took the cup from the child’s hands and drank from it, then grimaced.
“Does it taste bad?”
The woman looked at the little boy next to her. The corner of her lips lifted up in a small smile, and she ruffled his black hair, “They say good medicine tastes bad.”
She laid back down onto the worn out futon and rested her arm over her eyes, a tired sigh leaving from her lips. Toshirou folds his legs under him and stares at his mother. He fidgets a bit before he speaks up.
“Mama?”
“Hmm?”
“Why won’t papa come help us?”
A pause.
“…What’s bringing this up?”
Toshirou frowns, seeing that his mother already wants to avoid the subject. So he changed his question and tried again, “You love him, don’t you?”
His mother shifts her arm to look at him, her blue eyes shining with a silver of amusement and curiosity. “Where did you even learn that word?”
“Some kids said it today.” Toshirou mumbles, shifting in his place.
“And do you know what it means to love someone?”
Toshirou frowns, making lines on his youthful face. “…It means… you really really like that person?” he says, hesitantly.
His mother makes a considering face, “I suppose you can say it that way, but love is more meaningful than liking someone. For example, liking that pretty flower girl from the festival is not lov-”
“Mama!”
His mother laughs. Though her whole appearance was sickly, her laughter was full of life and merriment. Toshirou always loves it when his mother laughs, because it made his mother look alive and healthy again. At these moments, he always tries to capture and save the image of her laughing in his mind.
He snaps out of his thoughts when his mother waves her hand in front of his face.
“There you are; thought you were caught in a genjutsu.” Her laughter has lessened into small chuckles. She sighs and closes her eyes, a smile present on her lips, “Boy, that took a lot more outta me than I thought.”
She opens her eyes again to stare at their ceiling, but they were distant, as if she was lost in a memory, “To answer your question, I do love your papa, yes.” Though her face was carefully blank, there was a wistful longing in her voice as she said that. But then, Toshirou’s next question stunned her.
“And he loves you, doesn’t he?”
She looks at Toshirou, dumbfounded. She bites her lip, conflicted how to answer.
“Toshirou-”
“Doesn’t he?!” Toshirou insists. For a moment, none of them say anything. Only blue eyes staring at each other.
Finally, his mother sighs, her own blue eyes dull and tired, “It’s complicated.”
That answer was enough for Toshirou to understand. He glares at the floor beneath him, and tries to blink his tears away. Then, he felt a gentle hand cup his head.
“Oh, my baby boy,” his mother pulls him into her and the lump in Toshirou’s throat becomes heavy like lead. He lays down next to her, and gladly hides his face into her chest. If his mother felt her kimono getting wet, she doesn’t say anything and only holds him tighter.
“Mama?” his shaky voice was muffled.
“Hmm?”
“Why do you love him?”
“Because we can’t choose who we love.” Toshirou sniffles and raises his head to look at his mother, confused. His face was covered with tears and snot. His mother grabs the hem of her sleeve and wipes his face. “You’ll understand when you grow older.”
“But I don’t wanna grow up!”
“Aww, but you have too! Who else will take care of me when I’m old and ugly?” His mother teases.
“You’ll never be ugly, mama!”
Her face filled with surprise for a second, then it softened. “How did I get so lucky to be blessed with you?” she pinches his cheek and pulls.
“Owww! Mama, it hurts!”
“It’s not my fault you have chubby cheeks.” Both of her hands were now pinching and squeezing his cheeks together, making Toshirou’s lips look like a fish.
“ ’m no’ gonna gro’ up!” he says defiantly with blue eyes glaring and eyebrows pinched together, but his serious look was ruined by his squished cheeks, making him look more adorable.
“Oho~? And what makes you say that young man? All kids grow up, you know? You’ll grow up too one day, and then you have to find a job to pay your taxes, get married~.”
“Ewwww.”
“You say that now, but you’ll have a different reaction once you meet the person of your dreams,” his mother chuckles. But then her blue eyes turned wistful as she said these next words.
“And hopefully, you’ll have more luck than me.”
.
The memory fades along with the face of his mother. Hijikata Toshirou was sitting in a diner and enjoying his meal, when the annoying presence of a silver haired samurai with dead-fish eyes made him remember the distant memory.
“Guess we both have shitty tastes.” He murmurs.
He snaps back to attention when a rough, calloused hand lifts his bangs and presses on his forehead. He looks at the owner of the hand, bewildered.
“…What are you doing?”
“Checking if you have a fever.” Sakata Gintoki, the worst samurai with the most beautiful soul in history, mutters. Concern was apparent in those red eyes of his as he looked at Toshirou. His hands switched from his forehead, to check his pulse, one hand gently holding his wrist, while the other laid two fingers on his neck. Toshirou did not shiver when he did that.
“Yeah, no, everythings okay here. Maybe you hit your head on your way here? Is that it?” His hands now rested on the sides of his head, and lightly pulled to seemingly check his head. He didn’t stop pulling until Hijikata could smell the scent of strawberry milk mixed with that natural masculine musk. He is not blushing at all.
“What the hell are you doing, asshole?” Hijikata roughly pulls back, his ears still pink.
Gintoki stares at him with that trademark blank look on his face. “Hijikata-kun would rather die ten times over than admit his dogfood is indeed shit.” Gintoki looks at him thoughtfully, a finger rubbing his chin, “Unless you’re not Hijikata-kun? A clone, maybe? Then you either must be mentally retarded or an idiot bastard to choose to turn into Shinsengumi vice-commander. I mean there’s hundreds of other characters out there, and you choose to be a V-banged, chain-smoker with a love for dog food? Wait, that’s offensive to dogs, maybe dog shit works bette-” a hand flings out and grips his face, cutting his words off.
“Apologize to mayonnaise, you perm headed dick.”
Shitty taste, indeed.