Archive of Our Own

“Ah, Yorozuya danna!” someone called out to him.

Gintoki turned his head to the voice despite himself. He hadn’t meant to; he’d been explicitly instructed—threatened, really—from day one to avoid anyone calling for his attention whenever he stepped inside the Shinsengumi barracks unless it was a certain someone, and though Gintoki typically scoffed at taking orders, especially from that certain someone, certain someone had issued that order out in an unfair context that involved a lot of rope (better than handcuffs!), manhandling (Gintoki’s personal favorite especially because Hijikata never flexed his strength unless necessary), too much precum (inevitable between two men), and so much of Gintoki’s senses thrown out to window that he would have agreed to just about anything if that meant he could get what he wanted, and though Gintoki didn’t stick to most promises, particularly unjust ones, the fact that he agreed was embarrassing enough for him that he decided he could at least follow on this one thing.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was itching to talk to anyone here anyway.

It was one of the Shinsengumi members that Gintoki had never spoken to before jogging over to him, leaving behind his group of companions who were huddling over a large bag filled with paper. “Perfect timing. You’re here to see the Vice Chief, aren’t you?”

“Why else would I come to this stinking place?” Gintoki grumbled, picking at his nose. “What do you want, NPC-san?”

The man handed him a stack of envelopes bundled together in a twine string. “This is for him.”

Gintoki eyed the bundle dubiously. He wasn’t a delivery boy, dammit! But it was already past lunch and he was hungry, and despite how he looked, Gin-san did not like to dilly-dally when there were important things at stake, and that was his stomach. So he snatched the papers and left before he could be badgered into running more errands without pay. Just for that, he thought, he was going to make Hijikata pay for his lunch and dinner, even if they weren’t seeing each other tonight.

He’d been here enough times to not be stopped for trespassing, and it was easy for him to find Hijikata’s room even when all the rooms were virtually identical to one another. Without knocking or announcing his presence, he slid the door open, easily sidestepping the katana that came flying past him and lodging itself against the shoji. Hijikata wasn’t even looking at him, far too engrossed in the report he was reading.

“I thought I said no visitors or it’s seppuku for—” Finally, he turned his head. “I’ll kill Yamazaki. Who let you in here?!”

“Have pity on Mob-kun, I haven’t even seen him this entire time.” He figured it was best to not remind Hijikata that he had so much access to the barracks that it felt like he was an actual member of the force.

Hijikata sighed and reached for his cigarette. “Why are you here?”

Stop acting like you don’t know why I’m here! Who do you think you’re fooling? It’s just me! Gintoki thought. “I want lunch.”

“Can’t your impatient perm wait? It’s still—fuck, where’s the clock.”

“Above you, moron.” It occurred to Gintoki just then how much of Hijikata’s room was in disarray. The place was crawling with paperwork, and though that was nothing new for Hijikata’s line of work, this time it seemed a bit excessive, especially when it wasn’t the Shinsengumi’s busier seasons (he was going to pretend that he didn’t know that). Hijikata’s futon was still out and only half-made when usually he was neat enough to properly set it aside. He was on his second ashtray, the first one brimming with stubs that hadn’t been thrown out yet. Gintoki thought the entire scene was a bit overkill. Didn’t he have an assistant for this? What was the point of that doe-eyed cherry boy if he wasn’t going to clean up after his boss like this?

“Shit, I didn’t notice the time,” Hijikata swore once he got his hands on this clock, indicating how it was not only way past lunch hour, but way past the time they agreed to meet to eat out, and instantly, his demeanor changed, no longer annoyed at Gintoki in lieu of being frustrated at himself. He already stubbed out his cigarette, despite how it was only half-finished. “Sorry, we’ll go. Just let me finish reading this page.”

“I’m hungry. Reading can wait.”

“You can wait.” Gintoki loudly stepped on one of the reports, watching a vein pop out of Hijikata’s head.

“Are you a fucking child?!” He immediately pulled the paper to him once Gintoki lifted his foot.

“You want me to wait for you in this dumpster of a room?! Just because Gin-san has been in worse places doesn’t mean he deserves this!”

“Then get the fuck out of here and wait for me outside!”

“I want compensation for this! I could’ve been eating two parfaits by now! You owe me lunch and dinner!”

Hijikata was so equally irritated and distracted with the work at hand that he didn’t seem to care anymore. But it was the usual ire he had for Gintoki when he thought the latter was being a distracting pest and Hijikata didn’t have the time for it, and it was a bit why Gintoki liked to bombard him during work. It became easier to convince him to do what Gintoki wanted. “Fine! Whatever!”

He should’ve been satisfied with that, but he also still didn’t like the idea that Hijikata got the last word here. When the charged air between them had calmed down, he said, “Oi, Oogushi-kun.”

“Stop fucking calling me that,” Hijikata grumbled. “The fuck do you want now?”

“Okay then,” Gintoki huffed. “Guess I’ll just throw these away then?” He lifted the stack of envelopes and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, as if he found the leverage he needed to one-up Hijikata. If he was so in love with his papers, let’s see what he did with these! And the fact that he received so many of these probably meant they were valuable. Gintoki had never received this many letters in his entire life.

But when Hijikata saw the stack of envelopes, he didn’t take the bait and exploded in protective outrage like Gintoki thought he would. Instead, to Gintoki’s surprise, Hijikata had done a complete 180. Gone was the energy to snap back and the temptation to strangle him; instead, his shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and he rubbed the side of his face. Dismissively, like the idea of talking about it was already too troublesome for him, he replied, “Just toss it to the corner.”

Gintoki did as he was told without thinking, and then belatedly wondered if Hijikata was building a tower made of these envelopes, because there were enough to reach the ceiling and Hijikata didn’t seem to have even opened a single one, and that was uncharacteristic of him, because if there was one thing Gintoki had come to unwillingly learn about Hijikata that no one else seemed to notice was that the man read just about everything—from important debriefs to rules of establishments he'd been going to for years to restaurant receipts of the same food each time to grossly inaccurate subtitles of shows he perfectly understand in dub to the gibberish code that Sougo turned in under the pretense of a report. And yet every single envelope was sealed shut and left untouched.

In the end, Gintoki decided not to ask. It was, fundamentally, really not his problem.

Not much about Edo had significantly changed in the aftermath of eliminating the remnants of the Tendoshu, and that was how Gintoki liked it, despite everything. When so much of his life was upended by change, he tended to shy away from it, if he could.

But Hijikata was a change Gintoki couldn't complain much about. There was a sort of loneliness that had visited him in the pocket moments he was left to his own devices, when neither the kids nor the latest person he got saddled with from helping once were with him, the kind that had never been there before when loneliness was the sort of thing he craved because he spent his childhood glued to Shoyou, his teens glued to Takasugi, Zura, and Tatsuma, and his older years to the brats and eventually Edo. Now he felt differently; having time to himself disturbed him. When Shoyo first died, Gintoki thought: there was no one in the world now who knew him. The thought of being in the company of everyone who he disappointed with his shortcomings sickened him. And when Takasugi died, Gintoki thought: there no longer existed any other person in the world who understood him. But he had people around him who cared about him, and it was enough, as it had been, for quite a while, even if it couldn't last.

So when Hijikata came along—and that was a peculiar thing to say, came along, when he was always kind of there—he slotted himself into Gintoki’s life like he had fit right in all along. He didn't know him like Shoyo knew him, didn't understand him like Takasugi did, but he did both in his own way. He understood being a prodigy and being scorned for it; he understood having a first love you couldn't reciprocate your feelings to; he understood being taken care of by an unexpected someone who'd given him more than any normal family could; he understood having to make the hard decisions and living with its consequences so no one else would, even if that shunned you from the rest. He knew peculiar food cravings and addictions. He knew restless nights. He knew sex. He knew the smell of incense. He knew the beauty of a mundane, unproblematic day.

Hijikata knew and understood. And he always did; it just so happened that one day it became crystal clear to Gintoki, and he couldn't look away. Couldn't, until Hijikata finally met his eyes across the table in the middle of Kondo being beaten by Otae and Okita and Kagura entering another brawl that would decimate the restaurant and they both realized they were thinking the same thing—that they were surrounded by idiots, they had to get out of here, and this life they had, it was exactly what they asked for, and they wouldn't change it for anything else. And Hijikata had done this without words. That hadn’t changed between them, and for that Gintoki was grateful.

(After their two groups supposedly split ways, Hijikata and Gintoki found themselves an hour later in the same convenience store. They bought beer. They said nothing. Afterwards, as Gintoki searched for a place to throw his can, Hijikata grabbed him by the collar of his undershirt, pulled him in a kiss, and plucked the can right out of his hands. Then, just as quickly as he'd done it, he pulled away, said, until next time, Yorozuya, and he walked away, carrying his empty can on his way back to the barracks. It was strangely touching, the small, courteous effort Hijikata had made to make Gintoki's life a bit easier, one less thing to worry about.

That was what Hijikata did best for Gintoki: lighten the burden.)

Something was different now though. Gintoki couldn't exactly place it. On the way to the pachinko parlor, he ran into Hijikata, who was in the middle of patrol. Gintoki did not memorize this—not on purpose, anyway. He just noticed patterns, and that every Thursday afternoon Hijikata patrolled along streets that coincidentally laid a path to Gintoki’s favorite pachinko place, and when Gintoki decided to explore those same streets, it was surprisingly convenient and quicker than the other ways he got there, so he used it frequently. Hijikata got over being surprised to run into Gintoki after the fifth time it happened, but he still rolled his eyes at the gambling, and they bickered like they always did until Hijikata had to leave because he cared a great deal about being on schedule, and Gintoki pretended to not know that Hijikata had purposely extended his patrol time to talk to Gintoki, no matter how brief it lasted.

So Gintoki was surprised to see that when he caught Hijikata’s profile up ahead, he was with a woman. She seemed wealthy, based on the intricate designs of her kimono, the expensive hairpin, and her posture, and harmless the way Gintoki associated most normal citizens of Edo to be, but she spoke to Hijikata with familiarity like he wasn't a country bumpkin and instead someone on her social class level, and her hand constantly hovered over his as they spoke. Hijikata, engrossed in their conversation, hadn't noticed Gintoki, and that rubbed him the wrong way. He eyed the woman suspiciously, wondering what her gameplay was. Hijikata wasn't bad-looking at all—Gintoki wasn't into uglies, and even with his pride he knew that it was a flex to have gotten someone like Hijikata in his bed, given his looks and reputation—and as a result had his fair share of admirers, but Gintoki had a feeling this was different. He usually never gave them the time of day, even before he and Gintoki began seeing each other. Didn't she know she was intruding on Gin-san time?

“Yo, Mr. Policeman,” he drawled loudly, coming up from behind Hijikata and slinging his shoulder over him, knowing how much touching in public pissed him off. “Don’t you know it's against the law to block the street? Accidents can happen, you know.”

Hijikata shrugged him off. The lady glanced between both of them, and then, as if deciding Gintoki wasn't a threat, turned her focus back to Hijikata like Gintoki didn't exist at all. “This is for you,” she said, and handed Hijikata a box with an envelope taped on top. “I would love to hear from you soon.”

She took off shortly after that. Gintoki reached out to lift the box’s lid; he didn’t know what he expected—something ridiculous, maybe, like sweets (which Hijikata disliked), or flowers (which Hijikata was allergic to)—but what was inside was a kiseru. Gintoki, who spent enough time being surrounded by idiots who liked this sort of thing, thought it looked nice. He immediately disliked it.

“I thought Hijikata-kun was too old for presents and confessions,” Gintoki remarked. “What’s this all about?”

“Matsudaira,” was all Hijikata said in reply. Gintoki waited for more, but that seemed to be the extent Hijikata was willing to explain. His eyes flickered past the kiseru, like it was of no importance, but Gintoki couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. He didn't like that, not knowing. “Know anyone you wanna give this to?”

“Oi, oi, it's not polite to regift presents from lovers.” He ignored Hijikata’s angry noise of protest. “And I'm not interested in charity.”

“Is that so? Heard this sells for a lot too.” And the box was plucked out from his hands the moment the words came out. “Don’t blow whatever money you make from that on pachinko.”

“You gotta trust me when I said that one day I’ll hit big,” Gintoki argued. Hijikata had already begun walking past him, waving his hand in both acknowledgement that he heard him and that he was going. This was how all their interactions proceeded on days like this, that to outsiders who caught glimpses of them, nothing between them had changed—and it was true in all the ways that mattered. Gintoki had no reason to watch Hijikata go and feel strange, but he didn’t fail to notice the subtle way Hijikata had taken the envelope with him.

(“Oh, Gin-san,” Shinpachi said as Gintoki entered the living room. “I thought you said you were going to play pachinko with Hasegawa-san.”

“What are you talking about? Gin-san is an upstanding citizen who would never play pachinko in the middle of the day. More importantly,” He set down the box in the middle of the table in front of Kagura. Tilting her head as Shinpachi walked over to them, she flipped the lid. “Look what I got.”

“Gin-chan,” Kagura began, picking at her nose. “You’re too old to pick up smoking now, yeah? Your lungs aren’t trained for it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about! This can get us big bucks if we find the right buyer! Do you know what that means? We’ll have money!”

“Money!” Kagura cheered, but Shinpachi was frowning.

“Gin-san, this is a really expensive kiseru. Where did you get this? Did you steal this?”

“I didn’t steal anything. That mayo freak gave it to me.”

Shinpachi sighed, and began to patronizingly explain, “I know you’re dating Hijikata-san, but that doesn’t mean you actually own his things—”

“No one said anything about dating! Don’t think filthy thoughts like that!”

“But,” Kagura said. “This is too nice for someone like that guy. Why would he have this? Is that what he uses taxpayer money for? Or did someone give this to him?”

“Some girl did,” Gintoki replied.

A silence fell between them all after he spoke. Kagura and Shinpachi exchanged a knowing look with one another.

“I bet she was prettier than you,” said Kagura. “Gin-chan, I know how these things go. It's like that drama I've been watching, yeah? If you're not careful, you will lose him, so it's good that you got this before he could try it! She already has more money so she has a point over you. All she would need to do is put some powder in this for Toshi to try so he could fall in love with her, and if that happened, it'll be over!”

“What kind of drama are you watching? You're just rewatching our reruns, aren't you?!”

“Gin-san, are you worried?” Shinpachi asked.

Gintoki clicked his tongue, irritated that they were bugging him about this. “No. I don't know what's gotten into your heads, but that's not what this is—” Whatever this was. “It's nothing. It's fine. I don't care. This is purely business. There's nothing going on.”)

There was something going on. Gintoki could no longer deny it.

Hijikata had been acting differently. It wasn’t obvious; it only was to Gintoki, who usually knew what was going on with Hijikata (which was work and Gintoki himself—and those two things kept him busy enough), and for once there was something going on that Gintoki wasn’t privy to. Though Gintoki generally had a don’t ask policy, he realized he did not like not knowing. It was different from his dislike of when Shinpachi and Kagura hid things from him. They were brats, arguably his, and he was responsible for them. In contrast, he was not responsible for Hijikata, but Hijikata was hi—he wasn’t going to continue that train of thought. Hijikata was his? Who did Gintoki think he was? Hijikata’s boyfriend? Like he told Shinpachi, that wasn’t what was going on with them!

But whatever Hijikata was not telling him, the fact that he wasn’t and that Gintoki was aware of this meant it was all Gintoki could notice, even if Hijikata seemed to be balancing this third thing on top of his other two things relatively well.

Relatively.

Gintoki blinked back into consciousness when he felt the comforting weight of Hijikata’s body leave him. He had only dozed off for a few seconds after Hijikata had finished and slumped over him, lulled by the feeling of Hijikata engulfing his body with his own, a contrast to how much Gintoki loudly complained that Hijikata was too heavy and sweaty for Gintoki to enjoy post-coital cuddling, because sometimes when he was really overwhelmed, when he was really pent up, Gintoki forgot to follow the script. It helped that for all his moodiness when it came to sex, Hijikata was frustratingly consistent, capable of meeting whatever Gintoki needed and wanted from him without hesitation and without being shaken. For someone who had never been with a man before, for someone who had not slept around as much as Gintoki did, Hijikata was objectively better at sex than Gintoki was. And it was just Gintoki’s luck that Hijikata never thought to consider sleeping around with other people to realize that Gintoki was not as good as Hijikata assumed him to be.

(He mentioned it once, offhandedly, after Hijikata had moaned that Gintoki was the best fuck he ever had before cumming inside him. “Hey, Mr. Demon Vice Chief, you know it’s rude to boost my ego like that to make me cum when I know being a prude all these years has lowered your standards? You’d find better lays in Yoshiwara.” But his voice must have told Hijikata something different, because Hijikata replied, “If someone told me that I’d have the best sex in Yoshiwara, it would only be because you’d be there.”

It was easier to think about how effective Hijikata was without words, because Gintoki had a hard time factoring in Hijikata when he said things, especially things like that. He didn’t know what to feel. He wasn’t sure what he was allowed to feel.)

Hijkata sat by the bed, back turned to him. The love hotel they were in was a favorite of theirs, so they knew to turn on the dim lighting so they could still see one another when they fucked. Now it illuminated across the room despite the late hour of the night and showcased the broadness of Hijikata’s shoulders, the expanse of his back and the faint scratch marks Gintoki left. There was a small mark slowly healing in the space between Hijikata’s neck and shoulder; it was a few days old, and Gintoki almost forgot that he left it there. His brain tended to shut down when he was the one on top, and that was always the case in the early days of their arrangement, which was always fun but also meant that he didn’t last long and didn’t remember the sex as clearly so much as how it felt, which was why when Hijikata finally took charge, the new arrangement worked better; he had better control, and like a true workaholic, got off on doing most of the heavy-lifting, and Gintoki, true to his own nature, liked not doing any of the work at all.

“Hijikata,” Gintoki called out without thinking, voice surprisingly soft, muddled with sleep and something else. Hijikata turned around.

“Gintoki,” he responded, voice just as gentle. There was an unlit cigarette between his lips. This wasn’t an unusual scene. If he wasn’t too exhausted, Hijikata burned off about three cigarettes after sex before returning to Gintoki’s side—not that Gintoki had been paying attention. The fact just came to him on a random day, a realization popping in his head during one of the times he watched Hijikata smoke. But what was unusual now was that Hijikata’s yukata was back on, like he was about to go.

Gintoki tried not to frown. “On your last cigarette already?”

“‘M not going for a cigarette run,” Hijikata said. “I need to go. I got something tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning means it’s for tomorrow. Not tonight,” Gintoki pointed out. Hijikata had never not stayed the night with him. This was beginning to feel like a shameful one night stand, where two people drunkenly slept together and the man sobered up just in time and was attempting to sneak out before the hooker girl he managed to convince to bed him because she fell in love woke up and got terribly upset when she realized what was going on and caused a scene. Was Gin-san the prostitute here? He was sexy but not that sexy. “It’s two in the morning. You don’t wanna make the most out of the room we got? You paid for it, after all.”

“I’m always paying for it, idiot.” Hijikata rolled his eyes. “Besides, I need to prepare. The earlier I get back to the barracks, the better. The old man will have my head if I don’t come to these things at my best.”

Gintoki sat up. He noticed something sticking out of Hijikata’s pants, and it wasn’t the thing that conveyed the typical excitement but a pool of irritation instead. “New case?”

“No. An appointment.”

An appointment? For what? With the Shogun? The dentist? Death? Whatever it was, Hijikata did not shed any more light on the matter. Gintoki nearly caved in and demanded Hijikata to explain what was going on. He didn’t. He was beginning to feel mildly pathetic for being bothered about this; it would be much worse if he actually let it show. But he had enough of this sketchy behavior.

“Whatever.” Hijikata glanced at him, as if trying to gauge if Gintoki was upset by this unexpected change of event—Gintoki only spared himself a split second to recall that it had been getting harder and harder to see Hijikata lately, so the fact that they were even able to meet and spend some time in the hotel felt akin to a miracle—but Gintoki only grinned wryly and pulled him by the loops of his pants. Hijikata didn’t protest, let Gintoki slot their mouths together as his hands wandered over his body. Gintoki groped Hijikata’s ass as Hijikata squeezed Gintoki’s waist, and as Hijikata deepened the kiss, eventually trailing his mouth down to Gintoki’s neck, Gintoki finally felt the slip of papers sticking out of Hijikata’s pocket and smoothly pulled it out. Tucking it under the blanket, Gintoki pressed his hand against Hijikata’s crotch before moving away. “I’m hungry. If you’re not going to hang around, at least compensate me. I’m not a prostitute!”

“That’s exactly what prostitutes do!” Hijikata retorted, but his mind still seemed somewhere else, because he had an easy time detaching himself from Gintoki and reaching for his wallet on the bedside drawer. “Here. Buy yourself some shitty chocolate bar. Are we even?”

He placed the money on Gintoki’s palm with one hand and rested his other on top of Gintoki’s head. Gintoki didn’t expect the forehead kiss. Hijikata had done it so quickly it was like he didn’t even realize he’d done it either.

“Maybe,” he replied, delayed.

Gintoki watched Hijikata hastily slip his shoes on. He was scowling, but Gintoki knew it had nothing to do with him, and that still didn't bring him any comfort. When Hijikata left, he didn't even give Gintoki a second glance.

Until now he couldn't figure out if Hijikata wasn't telling him things because he didn't think he needed to or because he was purposely hiding something from him. Both seemed equally likely, and Gintoki liked neither of these possibilities. Regardless, he had enough of it. He pushed the blanket and picked up the envelopes. He may not know much, but he did know that this was the culprit of everything.

For the second time this month, Shinpachi was shocked to see Gintoki back at the house so early. It was six in the morning. Sitting in his office chair, Gintoki had been staring at the envelopes on the table for so long that he thought he could develop laser vision and burn holes through the papers.

“Gin-san,” Shinpachi began. “What are you doing? What is that?”

They were probably extensive details about an extremely confidential, long-term mission. Gintoki thought. This was the conclusion he came to after hours of mulling the situation over his head, based on the clues and Hijikata’s behavior for the past two months. Despite their dynamic and despite Gintoki’s unintentional tendency to be involved in a lot of Shinsengumi cases, Hijikata never disclosed a lot of Shinsengumi operations to Gintoki, which Gintoki was fine with, because one, he didn't care; two, for as much as he did get involved, it didn't mean he liked it; and three, he respected that Hijikata took his job that seriously, and he committed to the rules he set as much as anyone could.

“Uh, Gin-san, I can hear everything you're thinking. Why is this starting to look like a conspiracy? What is the Shinsengumi up to now? What did you do this time?!”

Yes. There was a high probability that Hijikata was so deep in this secret mission that it was beginning to make him act oddly. Gintoki might’ve been totally overreacting. But the only way for him to really know was to open the envelope, and that was a bit stressful, putting so much stake in this flimsy piece of paper. What would be in it? Information? A check? Who sent letters anyway? It was not for any sentimental reasons, that Gintoki was sure of, so why did Hijikata always have so many? He remembered the envelopes piling up in his room and how Hijikata always acted like they were more troublesome than the paperwork he did and Sougo trying to kill him daily combined. Cell phones existed for a reason, and he understood the concern for data privacy and safety, but it wasn't like envelopes were any more secure—it was very easy to steal them. Look at how Gintoki even got his hands on these! Hijikata didn't even notice it was missing.

Shinpachi had enough and smacked Gintoki across the face. “Just open them already!”

“Fine! You can't take the suspense either, huh?”

“No! I just want you to shut up already! You're overthinking this!”

Gintoki tore both envelopes open. Two letters fell out. He read through the first one, and then the second one. They were incredibly similar to each other in terms of structure despite having different content. “I see. I get it now.”

“What do you get?” Shinpachi asked, swept in the anticipation.

He set the letters down and gave Shinpachi a solemn look. “He's in a fight club.”

“Hah?!”

“Here.” Gintoki tossed the papers to Shinpachi and began to explain. “They’re calling it a letter of engagement. I couldn't tell at first what he was being asked to be engaged to, but based on how threatening the letters are, it seems to be a fight. There are even descriptions of these people's physique and what their strengths and weaknesses are. It makes more sense now.” Gintoki nodded vigorously. “These women are all probably secret criminals, and that bastard meets them to secretly dispatch them because if he's too obvious about it, it looks like misogyny. He also mentioned that old man he works for, so it's probably not official Shinsengumi work. Might be a favor for him. He's like a secret spy.”

This time, Shinpachi punched him hard enough to send him flying out of his seat. “As if! What kind of nonsense are you talking about?! How did you get to that conclusion?! Gin-san, these are letters of engagement for marriage! He’s been going to marriage interviews!”

Gintoki blinked, wondering if his hearing had been damaged. “Hah? Marriage? What is that, some kind of sound frogs make?”

“No. Frogs make a kero kero sound. I'm talking about marriage. It's when two people pledge to love and stay with one another for the rest of their lives.”

“Ah, so like a prison sentence. Well, Hijikata is a policeman, so of course he’s working to send these criminals to prison. . He's very thorough when he does his work, isn't he? He even profiled them.”

“The profile is because she's a suitor, not a criminal. You’re being intentionally dense.”

Lying on the floor, Gintoki cradled his bruised cheek. The world was tilted sideways from where he lay. This revelation did not necessarily have the same effect, but as the main protagonist, Gintoki felt compelled to draw similarities and point out metaphors in these circumstances. Though Gintoki did not like being wrong, especially because he was the older one, and by default meant to be wiser, he let himself consider that maybe Shinpachi had a point. That maybe he was right.

Gintoki stood up. He thought about the stacks of letters in Hijikata’s room. He thought about the lady who gave him the kiseru. He thought about the pervading floral scent there had been to all these letters. He grabbed his bokuto. “I'll kill him.”

“Oi, let’s not jump to extremities here!”

“He pissed me off! He didn’t tell me!”

“Why should he?” Shinpachi pointed out. “You said it yourself, you're not dating. You won't even admit that you're dating him. Doesn’t that mean he's not obligated to tell you that he's been going to these marriage appointments? In fact, all you say that you guys do together is get ‘puff-puff’ action. Do you know how disgusting and vague that sounds?!”

“Oi, oi, it’s not like he’s a woman. You don’t understand it yet because you’re still a boy, Pattsuan, but he’s a fellow man—he understands what I mean when I say that kind of thing.”

Shinpachi’s eye twitched. “Gin-san, you can say that, but that still doesn’t make it fair to expect that of him. You have to admit that you’re not exactly straight with him…”

“Don’t bring my hair into this!”

“I’m not, you idiot!”

Gintoki was still fuming. Shinpachi’s words rolled off him without any effect. He set down his bokuto and grabbed one of the letters. He was too old to solve things with violence anyway. Some things needed a bit more planning and finesse.

“Oh,” Shinpachi said. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

It was not hard to confirm that Hijikata did in fact go to these meetings. It wasn’t that Gintoki doubted it, necessarily, but he just had to be extra sure, because he was aware how embarrassing it would be if he presumed Hijikata was responding to these proposals and acted on that premise when it was completely off and he was putting a lot of his pride on stake for this, so it better have been worth it because he was on the nose. But Gintoki was aware that in confirming he had to be ready to deal with the consequences of it. Because it was none other than Okita who reaffirmed what Hijikata had been off doing.

“He’s a polite bastard like that, unfortunately,” he said. “It’s been making him a lot harder to kill now since he’s never around for any of my attempts, so I’d appreciate it if you did something about this, danna.”

“What makes you think I’m going to get involved?”

“Because,” Okita said. “You’d never be dumb enough to ask me about it if you didn’t care.”

He felt the need to check for booby traps as he left the dango shop and regrettably fed his food to the cats in case something was laced in them. He could never really tell with Okita.

Gintoki had reached out to Saigou at first—and it clearly was a dire time for him if he was reaching out to Saigou for this. Though Saigou predictably kicked him out of the okama club, an unsaid refusal to get involved in Gintoki’s plan, he did let Gintoki walk away with the wig and pictures of what he’d look like as Paako for reference.

Yoshiwara was the only other option, which was just as well. He knew they dolled people up better there anyway. For all of Tsukuyo’s boorishness, she had enough female sensibilities to feel bad enough to help him, and there was always Hinowa, who found him amusing enough to let him get away with most things.

She made him write the “letter of engagement” himself, but didn’t mind sending it under the pretense that it was her idea: that she heard the demonic Vice Chief of the Shinsengumi was taking marriage interviews, and she had someone from Yoshiwara in mind who would be interested. She was the head of Hyakka; it was part of her job to have good relations with the Shinsengumi, and if they had someone who could unite both forces—

“Don’t get too invested in this! I’m not actually a courtesan who plans on marrying him!”

“Ah, but ya sleep with him? We haven’t even started, and you’re already familiar with Yoshiwara customs.”

“Don’t twist the story like that!”

Gintoki had been a bit surprised, initially, with how easily she agreed; but even then, that wasn’t entirely accurate. What she actually did was call him a fool, storm off, and then when he trailed after her until they reached a bar, she took one last look at him, and there must have been something in his expression that made her reluctance disappear and begrudgingly help him. He figured it was his charm, finally working to his favor. Though she still threw him across the room after making him pay for a bottle of alcohol.

Hinowa had sent some of her women to help Gintoki get dressed; the wig still fit exactly like the last time and the makeup softened most of his sharper, masculine features. He was given a blue traditional kimono that had waves, almost like what he usually wore, and it fitted nicely enough around the fake boobs—not very big like he would’ve wanted, because Hijikata wasn’t into that sort of thing, but they were enough to make him more passable as a woman. Tsukuyo was mildly impressed. Gintoki, on the other hand, when he finally got a look at himself in the mirror, realized then and there just how ridiculous this all was.

But he wasn’t going to back down. He was going to commit to this. He was going to give Hijikata the most miserable, humiliating marriage interview yet. They were going to make Paako the most interesting girl Hijikata had encountered yet—well, interesting based on what Gintoki understood to be Hijikata’s preference in women, which was really Mitsuba—and just as Hijikata’s hopes would get up, they would finally reveal Paako, who was obviously Gintoki, and Gintoki was going to beat the shit out of him.

Hinowa had let them use the guest house she recently renovated at the back of her own place. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, with two personal quarters, a communal meeting area where people could talk and dine, and a smaller room connected to it. When Hijikata arrived and settled into the communal room with Tsukuyo, he was none the wiser that through the door to the smaller room, Gintoki sat, dressed as Paako.

There was a sliver of space between the shoji that separated the two rooms, and though Gintoki did not look through it, he settled beside it, and smoke wafted through. Gintoki wrinkled his nose. It smelled like it came from Tsukuyo’s kiseru, but he heard the telltale sound of Hijikata’s lighter flickering, and that was the first thing they talked about. Gintoki wanted to yell. What was Tsukuyo doing? Being Paako wasn't exactly comfortable for him! He couldn’t stay in this getup all day! He couldn’t prolong this! He was in his thirties; he was getting too old to do this sort of thing.

But at least, as if somehow being able to read his mind, Tsukuyo eventually got to the point. “I appreciate ya agreein’ to this meeting with us. As y’know, those from Yoshiwara are closed off to what goes on back on the surface, but we’ve been hopin’ to change that given everything that’s happened. It helps that Paako has spoken highly of ya as well.”

Hijikata let out a deep breath. “Is she someone I’ve met before? Helped?”

“No,” Tsukuyo said. “Our Paako—she seems very headstrong at a first glance, but once ya get to know her, she’s actually shy and reserved.” This was not part of the script when they were discussing Paako’s character. Paako was a gentle, friendly woman. She was not afraid to get to know people, even when they seemed to have the toughest exteriors. She was no tsundere. Hijikata had caught her interest because of the look in his eyes; fierce, but also kind, and not a lot of men had either quality, what more two. The only reason she hadn’t approached him sooner was because she believed in doing things traditionally, in doing things right. She was meant to be a proper woman. The perfect wife. None of that tough exterior nonsense; that was only popular with virgins, and Hijikata was seasoned. “But she’s seen you around whenever she goes outta this city. Says you’re a good fighter and you do your job well. You’re a handsome fellow too.” Those were true, Gintoki had said those things about Hijikata, but Tsukuyo didn’t need to tell him that! And she didn’t need to make it sound like admiration.

“I see.” A pause. “I don’t exactly go to places like Yoshiwara. But it’s nice. The Hyakka protects the city well.”

“Thank you. This is your first time here, isn’t it?”

“It’s not exactly my scene.”

Tsukuyo seemed amused. “I can see that. Men who go here for women only want them for as long as they stay here. When they leave, they leave them behind. So it’s a pleasant surprise, when a man such as yourself comes here to possibly take a woman with him to the surface.”

Gintoki waited to learn what he couldn’t piece together from a distance: what exactly Hijikata did here when he attended these meetings, what he would say to charm these women and their families when he met them, why he entertained them to begin with. Hijikata had never struck Gintoki as the type to take part in these things, after all, so it caught him off guard, and maybe made him feel a bit betrayed, because it seemed that he didn’t know Hijikata as well as he thought he did.

“About that,” Hijikata said. “I normally don’t do this, but I know you and Gintoki are friends, so I’ll be blunt and cut to the chase. I’m sure Paako is a fine woman, but I’m not interested. I already have someone.”

Gintoki froze.

“...I see,” Tsukuyo said slowly, unable to hide her surprise. “You already found someone from one of the previous interviews?”

Hijikata took a drag from his cigarette and shook his head. “I always reject them.”

Tsukuyo’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then why did you entertain this meeting if the answer was no?”

“I do these meetings to get the director off my back,” he explained. “He’s been nagging me about settling down and getting married lately because I’m ‘at that age’. I’m not getting younger, and there are some things you just can’t get away from. And as the Vice Chief, part of my duty is to set a good example to the troops. I’m sure you know, as the leader of Hyakka, how important that is.”

“‘Course.”

“A leader shows them what is and isn’t possible. If I can’t settle down, it tells them that a life outside of work is impossible. Though I do want them to be dedicated to the Shinsengumi as much as possible… I know it’s unrealistic to wish for that. And unfair, more importantly. People deserve to do what makes them happy.”

“You’re quite the workaholic, ain’tcha?”

“So I’ve been told.” He crossed his arms. “And I am for good reason. They need me here at work. But I’m not the best at taking care of myself, so even though the Shinsengumi needs me, I need someone to look after me. At least, that’s what Matsudaira says.”

Hijikata was not lying about any of this, Gintoki knew. And it made sense, what he was saying, why he was doing all this. But what Gintoki still didn’t understand was—

“That’s alotta reasons to get married.”

“Yeah.”

Tsukuyo’s expression was thoughtful as she exhaled smoke. “How do you feel about it—getting married? Is it something you want?” Catching the wary expression on Hijikata’s face, like he didn’t understand why she was asking, she pointed out, “All you’ve told me is why you come to these things and why you decline ‘em. Since you’ve rejected one of my girls, the least you owe me is an explanation.”

“What’s with all these questions,” he muttered, exasperated, but he didn’t seem too defensive about it, didn’t tell her to actually drop the conversation. Instead, he reached for the ashtray to stub the remains of his cigarette. “I never thought about it, but I’m not an idiot. I know where the old man’s coming from, wanting this for me,” he admitted. “But it’s hard to imagine being a family man if it means I have to stop working. I have a busy schedule, I have a temper, and I’ve been told I have eccentric tastes—” Ah, are you referring to the mayonnaise, Tsukuyo interjected, eyeing the lighter’s design. “—and the truth is, most people can’t handle it. So it’s okay.”

“But despite saying all that, you said you already have someone.”

“I did,” he agreed. “But Gin—we never actually talked about it, never like that. And I like things the way they are.” When he pulled a new cigarette, he didn’t light it, instead opting to toy it between his fingers. He was not normally fidgety like that. Usually Hijikata acting uncharacteristically was amusing on most days, endearing on some (not that Gintoki ever told him that), but now it was just unnerving. Gintoki didn’t like the idea that he was the reason for this side of Hijikata, one that was hesitant. Unsure. “The last thing I want to do is scare that guy off.”

It was the first time Gintoki ever heard Hijikata confirm that they were something, that they were each other’s someone, but it was also only the first time Gintoki had heard it because it was the first time he was paying attention. Hijikata was right; they never talked about it. Gintoki even balked at Shinpachi’s insinuation that they were dating, but wasn’t that technically true? Wasn’t that what they really were? It was clear Hijikata thought so, if he confessed to Tsukuyo that he was declining this interview because he had someone and that someone was clearly Gintoki. And even if Gintoki never publicly said it, he thought the same—thought of them at least in some kind of exclusive way, without a foreseeable end, with how used he’d gotten to Hiijikata’s presence and his eccentricities and expressions, and the expectations Gintoki had, as a result, on him, the kind that weren’t there before. And Gintoki was someone who always thought about the end, that things would end, even if he didn’t imagine how or when or why, but Hijikata—he was not part of that. It had never crossed his mind. And if there was no end with Hijikata, what was next? When he knew things were going to end, what he focused on was how he was going to move on with his life. He couldn’t do it in this case. This wasn’t something to move on from. This was something to stay in. To commit to.

Ideas like marriage and settling down were such daunting ideas. But he always used to think that if he were with someone to that degree, it would have to be someone with enough ambition to get them buried in work. Gintoki had little of that, and he could never be the breadwinner. And he had quirks himself; a penchant for gambling, an obsession with sweets, and an excessive enjoyment in riling up other people. What made Hijikata incompatible to most was not applicable to him.

And a family man—Gintoki cared about family. It was no secret. He loved kids. Whether he wanted them or not, saw himself having that in the future: it was not something he gave much thought about. It felt enough to have Shinpachi and Kagura. Hijikata had never given him the impression that he was thinking about it either, but his relationship with Mitsuba always made Gintoki believe that Hijikata was more traditional than he appeared, despite the life he lived, the kind of man who would do exactly what Gintoki assumed he was doing, what Matsudaira wanted him to do: going to these interviews to find the perfect wife to take care of him and have his kid. But maybe, the same way Gintoki was, the reason he didn’t think too deeply about it was because it was enough that he had to wrangle brats like Yamazaki and Sougo. It was enough that he had to clean up the mess of his own boss, Kondo.

It was a lot. Gintoki did not know what to do with all this information; everything he was finding out from Hijikata, and everything he was forced to confront about himself. But there was a reason they never talked about it; with all their similarities, there didn’t seem to be a need to.

Where once it brought Gintoki comfort, now it made him feel lacking.

As annoyed as Gintoki was that Matsudaira had been the cause for all this, he was right about one thing: they weren’t getting any younger. There were some things you couldn’t get away from.

“He means a lot to you,” remarked Tsukuyo. It was not a question, but there was an expectation of something to be said in response. Denial, maybe. Indignation. But instead—

“More than you know,” Hijikata replied, “More than even I think he knows.”

The words caused something to unravel in Gintoki’s chest, and it made him feel lighter, the kind of effect Hijikata always had on him, but Gintoki heard enough. He slipped out.

He saw Hijikata’s stupid hair peeking out from the booth they always sat at, at the restaurant they frequented every Wednesday. Unless one of them said anything ahead of time, they always came here without fail to eat together. The interview was planned on this day on purpose, meant to give Hijikata the illusion that Gintoki was none the wiser or what was going on, which pissed Gintoki off at the beginning when he was planning all this because it took a lot of balls to go meet the guy you’ve been fucking regularly and pseudo-dating right after entertaining pretty women interested in marrying you, and Hijikata did have big balls, but he didn’t need to rub it in Gintoki’s face! And then Paako aka Gintoki would blindside him, and then Hijikata would be too ashamed to show his stupid handsome mug in their usual place when he’d be committing seppuku for the stint he was pulling behind Gintoki’s back like a disgraced husband—not that he and Gintoki were married. Which was the point of all this and all their problems, Gintoki supposed. They were not married.

Arms crossed, eyes closed, and an unlit cigarette between Hijikata’s lips, he opened his eyes when he felt a presence slide in the booth across him. “Sorry, miss, that seat is—Yorozuya?”

“Who are you calling Yorozuya!” Gintoki slurred loudly. “I’m off the clock!”

“Stop yelling! We’re indoors!”

“You’re yelling too!”

Hijikata clicked his tongue. “Why are you already drunk? And why are you dressed like that?”

Gintoki did not answer. He had nothing to say. He couldn’t say it was because he had a plan and Hijikata totally botched it. He couldn’t say because he was thinking too much about things that he didn’t think to not head to the nearest bar after leaving Hinowa’s guest house. He couldn’t say that he completely forgot he was still wearing makeup, the wig, and the ridiculous courtesan kimono and had somehow managed to trudge all the way back up to the surface without issue because he was already plastered. He was still plastered. He never had any good reasons up his sleeve when he was inebriated, but he did have a good reason for getting drunk in the first place.

“I know you’ve been going to marriage interviews,” Gintoki started. “From all those letters.”

For a moment, Hijikata was stunned into silence. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Gintoki interrupted Hijikata before he could start defending himself, because Hijikata had to understand that this wasn’t why Gintoki was bringing it up. “I dunno how to be a good wife,” he said. He was aware of how terribly red his face was, but he hoped he could still blame it on the alcohol. “Heck, I’ve never learned how to be a good boyfriend.”

Hijikata’s eyes narrowed, suspicious—rightfully so, when this was the first time they ever talked about it. It was, Gintoki realized, the first time he even uttered the word boyfriend. But Hijikata seemed to realize this was serious, and Gintoki was doing more than just pointing out a fact; he was trying to be honest. Vulnerable.

His expression softened. “Idiot. No one’s expecting you to do that.”

“Yeah, well, Hijikata-kun, not all of us can have low standards like you,” Gintoki sniffed. “Anyway,” he continued, before pausing. “Anyway.”

“If you say that word one more time, I’ll—”

“You should stop going to those interviews. I don’t think you enjoy them anyway.”

“Why would I enjoy seeing a woman only to break her heart?” Hijikata grumbled.

Gintoki shook his head. “Imagine seeing that many women and saying no to all of them. They must be really ugly, hmm? That or you must really like me.”

He expected Hijikata to flush, but he only sighed and said, “The latter. That’s why I’ve stuck around, haven’t I?”

Damn Hijikata and his blunt sincerity.

“Oh, your face got pinker.”

“Shut up!” Gintoki yelled. “You’re so distracting, I’m trying to say something here!”

“Then just say it already!’

“Fine! I will! You have me, okay! So tell that old man boss of yours to quit it with all these interviews! Whatever these women can do, I can do it too! Sure, I’m not as curvy and I’m not the cleanest, but your mayo bottles are already like that anyway and Pattsuan has a lot of dumb magazines about tidying that I don’t think are too boring to not read! And I’m used to you being pissed all the damn time and smelling like tobacco, and as a man, I totally understand it when you have needs and even when you can’t get it up—”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Hijikata reached across the table and clamped his hand over Gintoki’s mouth to shut him up. “Stop talking, I get it already.” Just to be obnoxious, Gintoki licked Hijikata’s palm. Hijikata made a face and finally lowered his hand. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m actually really fine.”

Hijikata rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He slid out of the booth and before Gintoki knew it, Hijikata had grabbed him by the waist to pull him out too. Though Hijikata was strong, people weren’t normally capable of dragging Gintoki around, not unless he was really out of it. It seemed to be one of those rare nights. Funnily enough, Gintoki knew this was the state of drunkenness that got on Hijikata’s nerves the most: when Gintoki was only lucid enough to run his mouth but not even move. “Let’s get you home.”

He said nothing else as they began to walk through the streets. Fresh air was the sort of thing that normally sobered Gintoki up, but it seemed to have the opposite effect this time: the haze of alcohol finally kicked in and made him loose-limbed, more dead weight for Hijikata to haul, yet he didn’t seem to mind. It was still early in the evening, and some people glanced their way, curious at the sight of a grown man already drunk being supported by another man who was clearly sober. Gintoki ignored them, too fixated on Hijikata himself to care about their surroundings. “So?”

Hijikata grunted. “So what?”

“So what do you think? About what I said?”

“I think you’re stupid,” Hijikata replied. “I know we never talked about it before, but I still think it’s ridiculous. And that you’re being ridiculous.” Oi, Gintoki started, gearing for a fight, but Hijikata added— “You never had to worry about them. It was always going to be you.”

This guy. “Do you ever get tired of talking like that?” Gintoki asked, but it came off as a mumble, and he looked away because Hijikata would know that the redness in his cheeks was not from the alcohol. “I know that. But it goes both ways too.”

“I know,” Hijikata said softly, and his hand went from gripping Gintoki’s forearm to keep him upright to seeking for his hand, so their fingers could intertwine. Gintoki liked the sensation, how effortless and right it was. “Why else would you go out of their way to dress as a woman pretending to be my prospect, Paako-chan?”

Gintoki immediately shoved Hijikata away and grabbed him by the collar of his yukata, surprisingly coordinated despite his state. “Oi! You knew all along?!”

“Of course I knew! It was obvious! Also, Tsukuyo-dono told me.”

“Hah! So you didn't know until she ratted me out. And to think you're the police. Why is your detective work so shoddy, ah? What are we paying taxes for?”

“Shut up! That's not what's important here! You couldn’t even bother to hide it if you still came to me looking like that!”

“What do you mean ‘looking like that’? Are you telling me I look bad? You should know Paako is a favorite in the okama club!”

“You look ridiculous!”

They argued all the way home and never brought it up again. They didn’t need words, after all. But halfway through their journey Hijikata had them stop by the nearest bin so he could toss his stubbed cigarette. When he flicked the lighter, he burned a slip of paper he pulled out from his sleeve before lighting another cigarette without saying a word, like what he’d just done didn't even need a second thought spared.

He looked better smoking those cancer sticks than a kiseru, Gintoki thought. And he realized he should convince Hijikata to ease up on smoking, if not quit entirely, if Gintoki wanted him to stick around for a while. It seemed like the kind of thing a husband—potentially, he think he saw the appeal of those marriage interviews now, because it got on Hijikata’s nerves more than it got on Gintoki’s, so of course he was going to make Hijikata sit through one with him someday, and wasn’t that a thought, that they had that kind of future together—would do.