Chapter Text
Hijikata felt like he woke up from a distant dream. It was one of his better moments of rest though; felt like his body did a reset on all its exhaustion and became brand new. Yet it felt good to stretch in his futon, arms up in the air and a kitten whine escaping his lips. He settled, scratching his back and tracking his gaze down to his blanket covered feet, sat snuggly next to another pair.
The lack of snores was reassuring somewhat; it didn’t cover up the distant song of birds signalling sunrise. His hand came down on stiff shoulders, shaking gently.
“Oi, permhead,” he spoke lowly, a gentle smile tugging up in his face. “Wake up. You need to go back to the Yorozuya.”
A hand weakly swatted his shoulder where Hijikata’s hand was, jostling the covers and turning sleepily towards him. The officer released a breathy chuckle as he stood up, and trudged towards his wardrobe. “C’mon, Hijikata. You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“Oh I’m sorry,” Hijikata grabbed his clothes, and headed over to the mirror to inspect his face; should he shave today, or was he good? He turned his head to the side, clenching his jaw then turned his head up, surveying all possible angles in the dim light. He probably wouldn’t though. He only did it yesterday. “I forgot you use a straightener to match my natural goodness.”
The presence behind him was familiar, the sore cold a welcome respite from the warmth beneath the covers (ah, though the novels he’d read usually depict it the other way around). Delicate fingers grasped his shoulders, with heaving, smiling breaths over his ear. Dry and not moist. Every man’s perfect dream.
A kiss to the side of his neck. “How could I possibly compare, Hijikata?”
The golden blob laid over his shoulders in the mirror shook with mirth. A smile found its way; candid and unrestrained over Hijikata’s face. Sleepiness was a good look on him, though he would usually get to his senses a lot earlier than Hijikata would. What a hardworking man he landed himself—Tamegorou would shake and cry with joy in his grave.
“You should shave,” came his voice, muffled over shoulder where his cold lips were placed. Hijikata welcomed the slide of the yukata over his shoulder, welcomed the sliding touches that sent shivers on his chest.
And yet, looking in the mirror, Hijikata’s face had never been smoother.
In the end, he found himself nodding, against his better judgement. Maybe he knew better? Maybe. He was still sleepy after all. The roaming hands kept moving, engulfing his entire upper body in heaving shivers, as lips made their way to the juncture between his neck and jaw.
The birds were suddenly quiet outside, but Hijikata didn’t give a damn. This nice; this little respite. A shaky exhale once teeth bit down on the spot, leaving his neck with a very light mark.
Hijikata stared at it for a few moments, unblinking.
It was simply unthinkable for him to go out like this without honouring the Shinsengumi code of conduct; unkempt and undignified mark popping from the confines of his uniform—all of that faded the moment he met him. It felt so long ago it was almost… unreal. So yes. Maybe he knew better. Maybe him letting loose with a tiny, tiny bite mark wasn’t so bad. Maybe he should shave.
“Right.”
Kabuki-chou is a usual mess; vendors fighting, rats scampering and scaring the children, the smell of dainty yet heavy perfumes as a result of the nights before when the red light district was most active. It was as usual as the district could be. Hijikata toyed with the declining cigarette between his lips, biting a little on the filter as his eyes scanned for Jouishishi activity.
He didn’t have a patrol partner this time. It was a little out of his usual schedule, but the prospect of one of his officers seeing the bite on his neck was a little embarrassing for some reason. Hijikata didn’t think he was outright with much in his life, though a lot has been known already. He wondered what would happen if he just let loose, get lost in bars and drunk nights where the next day, the officers would gasp as he came out with reddened skin and bruises where they shouldn’t be—the thought of doing that with him made Hijikata smile a little.
Still. He wondered why he didn’t do that yet. Maybe he should ask the next time they meet. Might as well—he was headed in that direction in his patrol anyway. Seeing him would be—
??
The space in front of Snack Otose was occupied, a little strangely so since this was a new presence. Hijikata didn’t think he saw that person before; he liked to think he memorized the passing faces in Edo like the back of his hand. He came to a stop a few feet away from the man, who was looking up at the Yorozuya sign with a blank look on his face. The Yorozuya’s voices were getting louder, and the face of the stranger in front of him got more pensive.
“Naze? Nande? Huwhy?”
Hm?
He glanced up as the three Yorozuya (three?) left headquarters, but Hijikata was more focused on the highly suspicious individual looking up at them. He tentatively approached, neck stretching forward with a careful examination. The stranger didn’t even seem to notice he was there. “Sir? Is everything alright?” no response. But why was he staring up at the Yorozuya in such a way? Was it a stalker? Perhaps a Jouishishi (considering how wildly popular the Yorozuya was, it might be a rebel looking to stir trouble… the thought didn’t sit well with him though)?
Maybe he was shy? Maybe.
“So, who was that guy anyway?” came Shimura’s voice from the Yorozuya balcony. Hijikata listened, but watched as the rapt attention heightened in the stranger’s eyes once he heard his voice.
“He kind of reminded me of Kin-chan.” that was Kagura and well. She wasn’t entirely wrong, assuming the stranger in front of him was who she was talking about.
The man was wearing what seemed to be an inverted colour scheme of an existing outfit. Red-lined black shirt, white yukata hanging off the same arm, blue waves encompassing the edges and yet, the difference hadn’t been so stark. If anything, it was heightened by the silver curls blocking most of his face.
“Really? My head isn’t that screwy.” their voices came closer. The stranger shifted, watched their descent with more attention.
Maybe he was shy. That was probably it.
He hesitantly left, a little cautious and forgetting about greeting who he came here for. A little out of character, but maybe once the Yorozuya got closer, the stranger would gain enough courage to state his request. Yeah, maybe that’ll happen. For now, Hijikata needed to focus on his patrol.
It was a difficult time for civilians. Apparently some of them reported having no memories of the past few days before, but upon inspection, turned out to be perfectly fine by all the doctors that examined them. Hijikata suspected it might’ve been Joui activity that included kidnapping innocents and doing something that messed with their heads. It happened before. Surely it could happen again. Considering the strange nature of this anime, it was very likely too.
It was about an hour later when he found the Yorozuya once again on the street. As usual, they were flocked by the citizens, praised left and right for their good deeds. Especially their leader, with an undeniable luster emitting off his head.
With slight amusement and a little time to kill, Hijikata watched. He saw the three walking forward with the strange man trailing behind them. Perhaps he did have a request for them after all. Good for him.
”So bro, about your request…” came the Yorozuya leader’s voice in the middle of the crowd. Hijikata always wanted to see him in the middle of his craft and honestly, this seemed like a good chance to watch. “Do you want to punish your wife or do you want payback on the other man? Which one is it?”
Hijikata tilted his head. This guy didn’t look like the type to have a wife. Then again, who was he to judge? Until eighty few episodes, none of the watchers had any clue that he was capable of romantic love. Now here he was, in a relationship. An amused shake of the head. He leaned against one of the buildings, and continued to watch the exchange between him and the hunched over stranger.
“Neither.” replied the stranger.
“Huh? What do you want to do then?”
A twisted gleeful look covered the stranger’s face. Almost as if he was holding back on plummeting the Yorozuya’s head to the ground. Huh. Why could Hijikata read that specific scenario in his head? Maybe it was the anime’s nature. Probably. “Could you help me carry these DVD’s?” A bunch of them appeared out of thin air in the stranger’s hand, trajectory suspiciously aimed at… huh?
Eh.
What so clearly didn’t look like a slip came from the stranger, bashing around 60 DVD’s straight onto the blond’s head. Hijikata winced, covering his mouth with his fist yet he still kept watching. He was always told how the Yorozuya deal with difficult customers. Maybe this was one of them. He would hate to interfere and get blamed for something that might happen. Though if things escalated further, he’d definitely step in with sword in hand.
Though the bashing seemed. Highly unthreatening. The stranger didn’t even look at the weirdly similar bokuto hung from his obi either.
“Oh I’m sorry! The sixty volumes are so heavy that my hands slipped!”
Inevitably, the blond collapsed face first on the ground, and was immediately surrounded by the kids, who exclaimed in shock at such a bizarre act. “Hey! What are you doing!?”
Not even a few seconds later, another set of DVD’s over the blond’s head. Then another, then another, and another. Hijikata was tempted to help at this point, though it looked like the blond hadn’t exactly passed out, moreso that he was taken by surprise. Maybe the stranger was letting off steam for the cheating wife? It could be the case.
Wait, why am I making excuses not to help?
The kids were still yelling and asking the man to stop. It was not until the seventh DVD slam did other events escalated the situation. For instance, in a ferocity so unfamiliar, Shimura immediately landed a hook at the stranger’s cheek, taking his nose so harshly that he toppled to the floor and started bleeding immediately. The sight stirred something strange in Hijikata’s guts, but he was glad someone did something he might have.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop?!” Shimura shouted. “What do you think you’re doing to our Kin-san?! You’re despicable!”
Oi, wasn’t this a little harsh? The man was clearly agitated and the blond had told them all, so many times, that he had a very hard head. Though his lack of movement was a little worrying, Hijikata kept watching, fists tightly clenched.
“Kin-san was trying to help you, a total stranger! How could you do this to him?!” although this argument too, was valid. Hijikata silently gave Shimura a nod of support for having a backbone. The crowd of passerby soon became a crowd of watchers, observing the scene and directing an energy so sinister at the collapsed man that it bordered on a little… malicious. Honestly he didn’t think much of it, knowing if anything escalated, he’d dive in immediately.
“H-Hold on, Patsuan. I’m not a total stranger.”
??
“Don’t call me Patsuan!” Shimura scolded with scorn in his tone enough to bury six men under. He helped the blond up, despite the difference in their weight and height. “How do you have the nerve?”
Though, once his gaze turned back to the stranger, a raw emotion crossed his face, as if he was stabbed in the back. What were these dramatics? “Tell me you’re lying… Kagura! This is all an act, right? You’re trying to trick me again.” how did he know the kids’ names? Well, this was the part where Hijikata was concerned, then again maybe their introduced themselves. But… the nickname given to Shimura was only something exclusively used by—
“Get lost.” Kagura shot back, getting on the blond’s other side, and taking most of the lifting. “Never show your face in this town again. If you come near Kin-chan again, you’ll get it.”
Awfully sinister for a child, wasn’t it? Then again, she was taken in by—
Wait a minute. But the Yorozuya had always been a straight man with straight hair. Ah. She was just a teenager. Teenagers have protective streaks of those close to them before kicking them in the balls. Maybe this was one of these instances. Maybe. Hijikata chewed too hard on the filter that it crumbled in his mouth. He dropped the cigarette and made to light another.
“W-Wait, Shinpachi! Kagura!” the man reached out to a stand, angrier and a lot more aware now. Aware and angry.
Malicious.
Hijikata’s hand found its way to his sword, tight on the handle. Ready to draw.
“Who is this Kin-san you keep talking about?! Didn’t the three of us work together as Yorozuya?!” the further they got, the more rooted to his place the stranger became. Hijikata relaxed, but kept focus on the look of pure fury radiating off the perm. He got quieter as the crowds dispersed but somehow… Hijikata could hear him clearly. “Are you saying the sixty volumes of DVD’s we spent together meant nothing?!”
“What are you talking about? We spent sixty volumes with Kin-san!”
And it was just then that the stranger let them go in favor of watching—or skimming through—the sixty volumes of the Kintama anime, muttering to himself like a man deranged and maybe that was what it was. Maybe the cheating of his wife got to him so bad it warped his mind to think the protagonist—of all people, was the bad guy.
He was passed by people who stared and watched, pathetically so. “Maybe we should ask Kintoki to help him.”
Yeah. Maybe. Sakata Kintoki was the Yorozuya boss. Maybe he’d take a brief recovery period and forgive the man. He seemed so out of his mind it might just be it. He watched again as the frequently appearing ninja’s glasses fell, hands over the stranger’s eyes, tone shamelessly flirty. Ah. She might’ve mistaken him because of the similar attire. Her eyesight couldn’t possibly be that bad.
Though thankfully, once her glasses were back on, she delivered a solid (well deserved) kick at the silver-haired man’s head. Followed by another through a wheelchair, and another with a suspiciously-dressed fancy duck that looked strangely like it could be…
Well. Not now. That was a plot point he’d discuss with the author later.
Now that the stranger who attacked Kintoki got the payback, Hijikata deemed it enough to kick off the wall and continue his patrol. He walked, smoke easing in and out of his lungs as his eyes once more scanned for criminal activities. Erasing his mind of mundanity, continuing his promised duty; those were the things he focused on most.
Yet auntie at the cigarette shop stopped him to point out the mark on his neck. He bashfully covered it, continuing down the road not taken by the new stranger in town. Just recalling it settled something deep and uncomfortable in his stomach. He swallowed a thick lump in his throat as his hand came up to his neck, hiding the mark with the pretense to scratch.
Ah. Maybe he wouldn’t even see that guy again. Maybe he was a one episode thing where Kintoki got trampled by weirdos. Yeah. Mob characters likely do that to drive the plot forward.
So he didn’t worry, and continued his day normally with a promise to settle in intimacy later under the light of golden sunset.