[Gintama] Reflection comes when there is nothing else to be found.
Title: Reflection comes when there is nothing else to be found.
Author: masanami
Character(s): Gintoki/Hijikata
Word Count: 1,227
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Shounen-ai
Summary: Hijikata finds his reflections interrupted by Gintoki.
Author's Note: Tried working in a different tense. Pardon any inconsistencies.
He can feel the grip of the katana in his hands.
It feels like strength, it feels like power, it feels like it can take a life.
He likes the way that feels; the way the weight settles just proportionately between hilt and blade, the extension of his own being that calls and reacts to the slightest change in pressure and movement from the prey he has set his sights upon. He has always felt that the blade was something that he could rely on and live his life through--a weapon that would bend to his will, that could be replaced so much more easily than the fragility of people that dared to surround him.
Hijikata wonders if maybe that is why it is so much easier to love a blade than a human.
Humans, they could be so easily deceived and just as easily betray. Amanto aren't any different. They are all made of failings.
"Hijikata-san, you've made a mess again."
Okita is speaking, but Hijikata has difficulty paying attention to the words that float lazily through the stale air between them. His mind is preoccupied with the bodies littered at his feet, the last squirming gasps of breath rattling between drowning lips. Hijikata feels the blood soaked in his clothes and splattered across his face, but he doesn't reach a hand to wipe it away--instead he reaches for the package of cigarettes buried within the folds of his black coat.
The click of the lighter resounds far too loud in the room littered with dead. Soon smoke wavers in with the smell of blood, and Hijikata takes a long drag from the cigarette.
"Clean up this mess. The leader of the faction isn't here." Hijikata says slowly, eyes sweeping a dark cast across the dim lighted room. Blood drowns the walls of color and each step he takes must be delicately placed to avoid the splay of lost limbs.
He can hear Okita make some sort of sarcastic remark, but the words do not quite reach his ears and Hijikata is grateful for that. He doesn't want to listen anyway, and the only thought that fills his mind is leaving this place. It was another raid that eradicated the numbers of those opposing the Bakufu, but did not solve the problem. There was still so much work to do, so much that the Shinsengumi still needed to accomplish.
Hurriedly the other officers were filing into the building where the small faction had been in hiding. Their lumbering footsteps filled the silence of the night as Hijikata left them to clean up the mess he had created.
The night air is cooling and refreshing.
Only the moon illuminates the night with its succulent light, and Hijikata can feel the way it seems to linger over the city and cast its dreary light upon their midnight movements. He wonders if sometimes even the moon wishes it could draw itself into the night and disappear from sight.
This life...he couldn't call it grand, or worthwhile, but it is enough for a person like him. It is enough to see Kondou move through the day without weights strapped to his shoulders, to see those people that had once been useless find some meaning in their lives again. He can tolerate the blood, gore, and death. If anything, its the only element that is suited for his character and type--he's a horrible person, a murderer, and those type of people are best suited for tasks only performed in darkness. It is only right that these tasks be burdens that only he carry.
Hijikata has always known this and the thought brings more comfort than distress. Knowing the truth is better than wallowing through lies.
"Uh...Hijikata-kun? What are you doing here?"
He looks up and sees the haphazard strands of silver hair first--then the red eyes. And those eyes, normally indolent and bored in expression, are not quite the same as he is used to seeing. They're staring at him with this intent fixation, as if trying to read his thoughts, and it makes him feel exposed and uncomfortable in a way he cannot quite place with words.
"Gin-san can tell you're over doing it again." Gintoki says before he can even speak. He stops before him, looking him up and down, no doubt scrutinizing the way the blood has seeped into the folds of the black jacket and stained the white shirt underneath.
"Shut up," he mumbles, taking another drag from his cigarette. He turns away, annoyed now, above all else, at the intrusion of his thoughts. There are better things to think of than some poor ex-Samurai with a sugar addiction.
"Ah--I'm talking to you Hijikata-kun, don't turn away from Gin-san." He feels fingers grip onto his shoulder and instinctively he flinches away. He doesn't like to be touched, proximity is dangerous.
Gintoki seems annoyed at his unspoken gesture, and Hijikata can tell he is offended by the hardened curve of his lips and the way his eyes focus more intently. It figures that attention is a way of reaction for someone so laid back and nonchalant.
"This is police business. You shouldn't even be here. Do you want me to haul you off to jail?" As if in further warning, he reaches for the blade that has been resting at his side. He's not in the mood to deal with this, but maybe locking up this individual will make him feel better. If nothing else the threat is real and tangible, and it makes him feel more in control.
"Ah," Gintoki begins and his gaze settles back into that lazy drawl. "Well if it will keep Hijikata-kun from running off into the night and endangering himself then it can't be helped."
"Why, you--" He grunts in irritation. But tonight he is tired, too tired to deal with Gintoki and there is still so much paperwork that must be done in the morning...
"Tch, I'll let you off this time. Just get out of here." He mumbles as his hand leaves the hilt of his katana. He waits for Gintoki to move on, but for several seconds he is only staring at him and once again that uncomfortable feeling brushes against his cheeks and flushes his face. He doesn't like being watched this closely, not by someone that seems to see through all his fallacies.
But then Gintoki blinks and he is moving toward him and then pass him. But he stops before he gets too far away and speaks over his shoulder, only turning the slight tilt of his chin toward him. "Don't overwork yourself, Hijikata-kun. If you ever need a break or to relax, Gin-san will be here for you."
And then he is gone, moving through the darkness, and Hijikata quickly loses sight of him.
"Good for nothing..." he begins to mumble underneath his breath, but the words trail off and he doesn't pick them back up. He's tired and the smell of blood still lingers around him like ghosts and curses that he knows he will always carry. The words that Gintoki said are still on his mind, and he wonders, if only for a brief moment, if this man who does nothing so easily could really ease the burdens upon his soul.
He laughs at himself then for even entertaining the notion, and drops his cigarette to the floor, snubbing it out with the heel of his boot. There is still a lot of darkness left in this night, and there is still much to do.
After all, darkness is the world in which the Demonic Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi functions best.
Author: masanami
Character(s): Gintoki/Hijikata
Word Count: 1,227
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Shounen-ai
Summary: Hijikata finds his reflections interrupted by Gintoki.
Author's Note: Tried working in a different tense. Pardon any inconsistencies.
He can feel the grip of the katana in his hands.
It feels like strength, it feels like power, it feels like it can take a life.
He likes the way that feels; the way the weight settles just proportionately between hilt and blade, the extension of his own being that calls and reacts to the slightest change in pressure and movement from the prey he has set his sights upon. He has always felt that the blade was something that he could rely on and live his life through--a weapon that would bend to his will, that could be replaced so much more easily than the fragility of people that dared to surround him.
Hijikata wonders if maybe that is why it is so much easier to love a blade than a human.
Humans, they could be so easily deceived and just as easily betray. Amanto aren't any different. They are all made of failings.
"Hijikata-san, you've made a mess again."
Okita is speaking, but Hijikata has difficulty paying attention to the words that float lazily through the stale air between them. His mind is preoccupied with the bodies littered at his feet, the last squirming gasps of breath rattling between drowning lips. Hijikata feels the blood soaked in his clothes and splattered across his face, but he doesn't reach a hand to wipe it away--instead he reaches for the package of cigarettes buried within the folds of his black coat.
The click of the lighter resounds far too loud in the room littered with dead. Soon smoke wavers in with the smell of blood, and Hijikata takes a long drag from the cigarette.
"Clean up this mess. The leader of the faction isn't here." Hijikata says slowly, eyes sweeping a dark cast across the dim lighted room. Blood drowns the walls of color and each step he takes must be delicately placed to avoid the splay of lost limbs.
He can hear Okita make some sort of sarcastic remark, but the words do not quite reach his ears and Hijikata is grateful for that. He doesn't want to listen anyway, and the only thought that fills his mind is leaving this place. It was another raid that eradicated the numbers of those opposing the Bakufu, but did not solve the problem. There was still so much work to do, so much that the Shinsengumi still needed to accomplish.
Hurriedly the other officers were filing into the building where the small faction had been in hiding. Their lumbering footsteps filled the silence of the night as Hijikata left them to clean up the mess he had created.
The night air is cooling and refreshing.
Only the moon illuminates the night with its succulent light, and Hijikata can feel the way it seems to linger over the city and cast its dreary light upon their midnight movements. He wonders if sometimes even the moon wishes it could draw itself into the night and disappear from sight.
This life...he couldn't call it grand, or worthwhile, but it is enough for a person like him. It is enough to see Kondou move through the day without weights strapped to his shoulders, to see those people that had once been useless find some meaning in their lives again. He can tolerate the blood, gore, and death. If anything, its the only element that is suited for his character and type--he's a horrible person, a murderer, and those type of people are best suited for tasks only performed in darkness. It is only right that these tasks be burdens that only he carry.
Hijikata has always known this and the thought brings more comfort than distress. Knowing the truth is better than wallowing through lies.
"Uh...Hijikata-kun? What are you doing here?"
He looks up and sees the haphazard strands of silver hair first--then the red eyes. And those eyes, normally indolent and bored in expression, are not quite the same as he is used to seeing. They're staring at him with this intent fixation, as if trying to read his thoughts, and it makes him feel exposed and uncomfortable in a way he cannot quite place with words.
"Gin-san can tell you're over doing it again." Gintoki says before he can even speak. He stops before him, looking him up and down, no doubt scrutinizing the way the blood has seeped into the folds of the black jacket and stained the white shirt underneath.
"Shut up," he mumbles, taking another drag from his cigarette. He turns away, annoyed now, above all else, at the intrusion of his thoughts. There are better things to think of than some poor ex-Samurai with a sugar addiction.
"Ah--I'm talking to you Hijikata-kun, don't turn away from Gin-san." He feels fingers grip onto his shoulder and instinctively he flinches away. He doesn't like to be touched, proximity is dangerous.
Gintoki seems annoyed at his unspoken gesture, and Hijikata can tell he is offended by the hardened curve of his lips and the way his eyes focus more intently. It figures that attention is a way of reaction for someone so laid back and nonchalant.
"This is police business. You shouldn't even be here. Do you want me to haul you off to jail?" As if in further warning, he reaches for the blade that has been resting at his side. He's not in the mood to deal with this, but maybe locking up this individual will make him feel better. If nothing else the threat is real and tangible, and it makes him feel more in control.
"Ah," Gintoki begins and his gaze settles back into that lazy drawl. "Well if it will keep Hijikata-kun from running off into the night and endangering himself then it can't be helped."
"Why, you--" He grunts in irritation. But tonight he is tired, too tired to deal with Gintoki and there is still so much paperwork that must be done in the morning...
"Tch, I'll let you off this time. Just get out of here." He mumbles as his hand leaves the hilt of his katana. He waits for Gintoki to move on, but for several seconds he is only staring at him and once again that uncomfortable feeling brushes against his cheeks and flushes his face. He doesn't like being watched this closely, not by someone that seems to see through all his fallacies.
But then Gintoki blinks and he is moving toward him and then pass him. But he stops before he gets too far away and speaks over his shoulder, only turning the slight tilt of his chin toward him. "Don't overwork yourself, Hijikata-kun. If you ever need a break or to relax, Gin-san will be here for you."
And then he is gone, moving through the darkness, and Hijikata quickly loses sight of him.
"Good for nothing..." he begins to mumble underneath his breath, but the words trail off and he doesn't pick them back up. He's tired and the smell of blood still lingers around him like ghosts and curses that he knows he will always carry. The words that Gintoki said are still on his mind, and he wonders, if only for a brief moment, if this man who does nothing so easily could really ease the burdens upon his soul.
He laughs at himself then for even entertaining the notion, and drops his cigarette to the floor, snubbing it out with the heel of his boot. There is still a lot of darkness left in this night, and there is still much to do.
After all, darkness is the world in which the Demonic Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi functions best.