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Gintoki doesn't know when, but somehow over the years he's been conditioned to single out idiotic wig heads. More specifically: He can spot the exact moment when idiotic wig heads are about to get themselves knee-deep into trouble.
It's a useless, annoying skill. It doesn't earn him any exp. In fact, it probably gives him negative experience points. No, he's sure of it. He can feel his levels dropping along with his IQ everytime he has to play the straight man. If he could trade the skill with something actually useful, like the ability to get under Ketsuno Ana's kimono, he would trade it in an instant.
Unfortunately, life isn't like a video game where skills can be conveniently swapped out from a menu.
So! He'll just ignore the familiar black coat that he saw earlier. He's going to ignore it. Ignore. It.
(It takes everything to suppress a wave of hysterical laughter that wants to climb out his throat.)
He sticks a pinky up his nose instead.
(Maybe a little too hard. Just a bit. A little bleeding never hurt anyone anyway.)
Dumb, stupid wig heads and their stupid terrorist tendencies.
Dumb Gin-san who actually cares about what happens to said wig head terrorists.
To add insult to injury: He doesn't even get paid for the amount of crap he has to go through. That's the real criminal offense here. Poor Gin-san is busting his (more times than not, literal) balls out here for nothing. Nothing!
He should ignore it. He really should. The pachinko parlor is right over there. He's got rent money Pattsuan and Kagura's paychecks change to go a couple rounds. Or, heck, he can go over to the diner and order himself an enormous, super special deluxe strawberry parfait with extra whipped cream. Heck, make that extra everything, why not.
(Self-care, and all that other stuff that's all the rage among his fellow young people these days.)
He hasn't gotten his weekly dose yet and he can practically picture said parfait screaming his name in bold, flashing neon characters: "EAT ME, GIN-SAN."
Can he eat wig heads?
Don't even think about anything perverted, degenerates.
(Himself. He's the degenerate. That- damn voice in the back of his head that's like those little angels and devils in Western cartoons, except it's nowhere near as cute, not when it's making him think about dumb shit like eating unappetizing wigs.)
The answer is no. No, he can't.
He flicks away his booger for emphasis.
Wig heads don't fill the weekly parfait quota.
Anyway- Why limit himself to one or the other? He can hit the pachinko parlor and with his winnings, order himself two enormous, super special deluxe strawberry parfaits with extra everything. One to fill his weekly quota, the other to recover the sugar he lost from the second-hand damage from whatever the hell that wig is doing. Or done. Going to do. Whatever!
...Make that three parfaits. Two isn't going to cut it.
(Never mind the minor, tiny, insignificant detail that lady luck has the tendency to spit in Gintoki's face.)
Aaahhh, he definitely did not see a familiar head of light brown hair just now. Nope, nope, nope.
That's definitely not approaching a familiar wig at an alarmingly fast rate-
He makes one last ditch mental effort to turn tail and save his family jewels from being on Edo's most wanted list-
Gin-san is an upstanding citizen now-
Zura's in one of his dumb disguises, he'll be fine-
-but Gintoki's feet are already moving before his mind can fully catch up.
In a rather smooth motion (if he does say so himself), he takes the dumb wig by the wrist and pulls them into the nearest alleyway. Over the sounds of protest (Ungrateful moron, see if Gin-san will ever lend a generous helping hand again), he vaguely remembers that he didn't exactly wash his hand after picking his nose. Oh well, what Zura doesn't know won't kill him. Consider it payback for making Gin-san work overtime against his will, without pay.
"Gintoki, what are you-"
He doesn't give the wig a chance to finish talking before pushing his dumb, idiotic friend that's he's known for far too long against the closest solid surface.
He wants a goddamn refund.
"Saving your ass, now shut up."
"It's not-"
He grabs Zura's hand and pins it high up against the fence. Hopefully, Gintoki's kimono sleeve will be enough cover for their faces. Thank the gorilla for character design choices.
Or was it the editor?
Ah, he suddenly stopped caring.
"Zura, I swear, if you don't shut up-"
His friend's eyes narrow into slits. "It's not Zura, it's Zurako. I won't 'shut up' until you explain-"
For once, he's grateful for the wig's weird willingness to crossdress because now he doesn't have to think too much about a diversion. In the back of his mind, Gintoki's vaguely aware that this probably counts as taking advantage of the situation, but quickly dismisses the fact. Who in their right mind would willingly wanna be this close to an ugly, stupid wig anyway.
"Shinsengumi," Gintoki hisses back, "The hell have you been doing, getting them on your tail again? What happened to Runaway Kotarou, hah?!"
"Since when have you ever called me that? It's Zu-"
Footsteps. He shoves his palm none too gently over Zura's mouth. Makes a show to lean in closer and put a knee in between the folds of Zura's fancy ass kimono.
"Boss, I was wondering if- Oh."
Gintoki makes sure Zura understands that under no circumstances should he open his dumb wig mouth, before removing his hand. Upon a quick glance down, Gintoki registers the smudge of purple lip paint there and wipes it across his own mouth.
"Oi~ Souichiro-kun." He makes sure to put on a face that looks suggestive enough before peering around his sleeve. Which, he hates to admit, is kinda hard considering he can't remember the last time he's gotten kissed, let alone any tongue. He feels Zura press his forehead into Gintoki's clavicle, probably to hide his face better. At least the wig's got the memo for once.
Gintoki turns his attention back to the person in front of him. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt? Poor Gin-san hardly gets any action nowadays, I'll have you know. I hope you're ready to give me proper compensation for this."
"I'll pay for your next weekly parfait, then." Souichiro-kun's tone is the same deadpan he usually uses, except there's this infuriating smirk on his face as he draws out his phone from his pocket.
The bastard- Fine, take a stupid picture. Frame it for all he cares. The kid'll either blackmail him or use it against Mayora somehow. Gintoki hopes it's the latter. If he can gloat about how he can get some, while that dog-food-for-brains can't, sure. He'll take it.
Even if that "some" happens to be Zura.
Details, details.
(Gintoki tries his best to ignore the fact that the kid doesn't even question his inability to get laid. Damn kids these days. It's not his fault people don't see the appeal of having a natural perm.)
"Hah?! Only one??? You're kidding, right? You owe me two months' worth at the very least. I can sue you for taking my picture without permission, y'know!"
"Sure, sure," the kid drawls while looking over his phone, probably to see if the quality was what he wanted. Little tax money sucking booger better have gotten Gin-san's good side. "Have a good time, Boss." He pockets his phone and walks away with a casual wave over his shoulder.
They wait a moment to see if Souichiro decides to make a surprise return visit.
He doesn't.
"Holy shit." Gintoki deflates against the wall and the wig underneath him.
"-intoki, can't- breathe..."
He digs his chin into the wig's shoulder and vaguely registers the faint scent of Zura's perfume. This man's attention to stupid details, Gintoki swears.
"Good. Suffocate and die. Then Gin-san doesn't have to worry anymore about dying a premature death from stupid wigs who don't have a sense of self-preservation."
The moment the words leave his mouth, Gintoki knows it's a lie. If anyone has a strong sense of self-preservation, it's Zura.
He just wishes it wasn't directed toward- Huh, dunno? Maybe, possibly running away from the police and the goddamn government.
He wants a refund for this entire relationship.
Zura's about had it with his crap, apparently (well, same here, bastard), since he shoves Gintoki off none too gently.
"It's Katsura. I mean-" He primly smooths out the folds of his kimono and straightens his sleeves. "Zurako."
Gintoki leans against the wooden fence and rests an arm inside his kimono. Makes a show to stick a finger in his ear. "Yeah, yeah. What's with the get up anyway? You working at Saigou's again?"
"She prefers to be called, 'Mama,' but no. Something else." Zura's eyes has the sharp, concentrated stare he usually reserves for making his moronic wig plans and- for some reason- it's directed straight at Gintoki.
He does his best not to squirm under it.
"Fine, don't tell me. Secretive bastard. Didn't ask anyway. Sheesh." Gintoki tilts his head back and wipes his pinky on his pants before dropping his arm back down to his side. "Can't even get a 'thank you' around here."
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Zura taking a step closer and Gintoki curses himself for his oh so wise life choices like propping himself against a wall. It's basically the same as having big, bold characters over his head saying: "PLEASE KABEDON ME."
Yes, he knows that's an old reference. Leave him alone- His brain is in the frying process right now.
"Thank you," the bastard says simply, blissfully unaware that Gintoki is two centimeters away from imploding on himself.
Gintoki registers the smell of powder (not gunpower, for once) and that damn perfume as Zura tilts his head ever so slightly and takes another half-step forward.
"Yeah, well- Too late." Gintoki's eyes dart around nervously against his will and he's rambling on autopilot now, crap. Luckily, Zura's dense as a rock when it comes to these things. He won't read into it. Probably. Hopefully. "'Thank you' isn't gonna cut it anymore- You owe me 300 yen and a year's worth of parfaits now. One of each from the damn menu, mind you. Strawberry, vanilla, choco-"
There's something soft against the corner of his mouth, and he quickly kills murders massacres the feeling of disappointment that it isn't a pair of something else that's just as soft.
The damn wig's face is still too goddamn close though. When did he even take out the handkerchief anyway?
"Didn't you just demand two months' worth from the Shinsengumi's first squad captain?" Zura mutters against- but not against- his mouth. "Such greed is unbecoming for a samurai, Gintoki."
Too close , oblivious bastard-!
Gintoki looks away and clicks his tongue. "Tch. Completely different things. Don't try to worm your way outta this one, Zura." He tries to swat away the wig's hand. "And what are you, my mother? Stop it."
"Very original." As if he anticipated the move, Zura catches Gintoki's wrist with an embarrassing amount of ease. "It's Zurako, not Zura. Stay still- I'm almost done."
He dabs at Gintoki's mouth with a different part of the handkerchief and dammit, Zura, did he plan on wiping off his skin, too?
Gintoki makes an irritated sound. Actual irritation, not. Just- Not.
"Speak for yourself. You're a one trick pony gag and you know it. Gin-san, on the other hand, is an innovative main character of many charms."
It's not on par with his usual level of quips, he knows, but it's better than blubbering incoherently like a teenage boy who doesn't know to control his raging hormones.
See here? Gin-san? Gin-san is a big boy.
Zura huffs a laugh- how long does it take to wipe makeup off a person's face, damn wig- and tilts Gintoki's head down. "As if a permhead can make such grandiose claims."
"Oi-" Gintoki pretends that he didn't just stutter. "You wanna fight?"
There's a small smile on Zura's face (one that Gintoki's only seen a handful of times) as he moves back to finally give Gintoki some space.
"I'd rather pay you back in parfaits." One moment and a pensive look later, he adds, "Even if they are bad for the body. You should really stop indulging in such things, Gintoki. At this rate, you'll turn into a puddle of ice cream yourself."
"Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag. You don't even make any sense. If you're trying to body shame me, try again. Don't be shy. You can admit that you're jealous of Gin-san's superior metabolism."
Zura turns to leave. "Don't be ridicu-"
In a move that Gintoki definitely regrets the second after he makes it (Sue him, he's young at heart, of course he's a little impulsive), reaches out and catches Zura lightly by the chin.
Something flashes in Zura's eyes, but the look is gone before Gintoki can even guess what it is.
"Gintoki-"
"Your lipstick-" he blurts out before he can stop himself (He's the main protagonist of a shounen manga, leave him alone) "It's smudged."
Zura literally blinks the confusion from his eyes. "Oh. Right. I forgot."
Gintoki watches as Zura digs around his bottomless sleeves- Who does this wig think he is, Doraemon? Belatedly, Gintoki realizes that maybe he should drop his fingers from Zura's chin, but for some reason, he just... doesn't.
"Oh? That's strange, I don't have my mirror on me."
Gintoki should be suspicious. He really should. Really, really, really should. The way Zura says it is way too casual, way too much of a coincidence. It screams "TRAP" no matter the angle.
Screw it.
(He's a goddamn shounen protagonist.)
"You're hopeless, Zura. Give it here."
The dumb, stupid wig looks up from under his lashes (longer than usual, his stupid habit to pay attention to stupid little details is driving Gintoki insane) in a way that might as well be- Coy? Seductive?
Well. As coy as a dumb wig can get, at any rate.
"It's not Zura, it's Zurako."
Oh, this is definitely on purpose, the little shit. The way he hands over the tin of paint screams it. The light touch and drag of fingers. It's like Zura somehow found time between his stupid terrorist activities, and him just being a complete moron in general, to take lessons from someone from the red light district.
Who is Gintoki's immediate thought, but he pushes it aside.
After he's done with this idiot wig's lip paint, he's gonna mess it up again in ways he wanted to earlier and then some.
Blame it on low blood sugar. He's earning his mature rating tonight, dammit.
(He knows. He knows eventually they'll have to sit down and have a talk about feelings-
But for now...)
Hell, maybe he'll finally find out if stupid wig heads are a good substitute for parfaits.