WARNING: ***INCEST***
There’s no sexual content, but the topic of the story is INCEST.
Gintoki looked surprised, but it was less of an ‘Oh my goodness; that can’t possibly be true’ surprised and more of an ‘Oh shit; you found out’ surprised.
“You knew,” Hijikata said. There was scarcely a hint of a question mark at the end; it was an accusation. When Gintoki only responded by casting his guilt-filled eyes toward the carpet, he demanded, “How long have you known?”
Gintoki still didn’t speak, so Hijikata punched him in the face. He wanted to beat the hell out of him, but he already felt guilty about losing his temper, so he took a couple steps back and tried to calm down.
Tense silence filled the next hundred seconds. Hijikata broke it with another question. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Hijikata was frustrated to death with the continued silence. Though he knew Gintoki could hear him just fine, he raised his voice to ask, “Were you planning to let me go to my grave not knowing?”
Gintoki finally made eye contact and simply answered, “Yes.”
To avoid beating Gintoki within an inch of his life, Hijikata turned to walk away.
Gintoki grabbed his arm, begging quietly, “Please don’t go.”
Furious, Hijikata shook Gintoki’s hand off and shoved him away. He spat, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
He stormed out of the room seeing red. Too angry to be near other human beings, he bought a bottle of whisky, walked to the Terminal, used his Shinsengumi credentials to gain access to a seldom-used security room with a view of the city, and drank himself into oblivion.
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“You look like shit,” Otose commented, gesturing, lit cigarette in hand, toward her lone customer.
Gintoki’s only response was to watch his own finger slowly trace a scratch in the bar top.
Otose knew him well enough to tell he was far more upset than he appeared. Coming closer, she asked with her own brand of concern, “What happened?”
Gintoki’s shaky sigh of a response was all the answer Otose needed, but her suspicion was confirmed when he answered, “The worst.”
“Did you tell him, or did he find out on his own?”
Cradling his head in one hand and holding the other up in a gesture meant to stop Otose from rubbing salt in the wound, he said, “Don’t say, ‘I told you so.’”
Shaking her head, Otose said, “I wasn’t going to say that, but you did know it was probably only a matter of time.”
Gintoki knotted his eyebrows and responded with a quiet, resigned, “I know.”
“It would have been better if he’d heard it directly from you…”
Losing his temper, Gintoki pounded both fists on the bar and interrupted in a raised voice, “I know!”
Providing comfort in the only way she thought he’d let her, Otose poured a shot of whisky and set it in front of him.
He slammed it down in a single gulp and held the glass out, silently asking for more.
Otose didn’t indulge him right away. She didn’t want him to hide from his fuck-up at the bottom of a bottle. Encouraging him to face the situation, she assured kindly, “This might sound trite, but I have a feeling everything is going to be ok.”
He scoffed and looked at her with a pained frown. “You’re right. That sounds really fucking trite.”
She knew not to press the issue further. The best she could do for him now was refill the glass, and so she did, with a double shot.
He took his time drinking it. As he ducked under the noren on his way out, he turned back and gave a single nod that she took as his way of saying, ‘Thank you.’
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Hijikata was no longer able to pretend there was any chance this was all just a mistake or misunderstanding. He had so many questions, and Gintoki was the only person who might have answers. They had been avoiding each other for weeks, but it was time for a conversation. Afraid Gintoki would continue to avoid him if he knew he was coming, Hijikata showed up at the Yorozuya unannounced.
His knock on the door was answered by Kagura, who let him in, yelling into the apartment, “Gin-chan! Mayora’s here to see you!”
It was obvious no productive conversation would be had with her around, so Hijikata pulled some cash out of his wallet. Handing it to her, he said, “Take your dog for a walk. I don’t want to see your faces again until after sundown.”
Grinning, she took the cash and called for Sadaharu.
The giant dog bound over excitedly and closed his mouth around Hijikata’s head. Hijikata tried to push the beast off, to no avail. Only when Kagura scolded him did the dog relinquish his jaw’s vice grip.
The girl and her dog left, and Hijikata stood in the entryway, cringing at the nasty sensation of having his head coated in smelly dog saliva.
Gintoki got a fresh bath towel out and handed it to him, giving an apologetic, “He does that to me at least three times a week. At least his teeth didn’t puncture your skin.”
Hijikata took the towel with a muttered, “Thanks.”
He went into the bathroom and washed his hair, face, and neck, pondering how he was going to start the conversation. As he toweled off, he decided starting at the beginning chronologically might work best.
He hung the damp towel on a rack and went out to the living room, where Gintoki was waiting for him on a couch. He sat on the opposite couch. Getting straight to the point, he asked, “Who’s older?”
“You, by about ten minutes.”
The thought of their being fraternal twins hadn’t crossed Hijikata’s mind. He had assumed Gintoki was either older or a few years younger. If Gintoki was too much younger, Hijikata would have remembered his mother being pregnant. He pointed out, “But…we have different birthdays…”
Stating what seemed obvious to him, Gintoki said, “Mine is made up.”
This still wasn’t tracking for Hijikata. He couldn’t picture what would have made his mother give birth to twins but only raise one of them and never so much as mention the other. His mother didn’t always make great decisions, as evidenced by her affair with a married man, but she was not a bad person. She wouldn’t have abandoned her own son. Confused, he asked, “Why didn’t my mother raise you?”
Gintoki pointed a finger toward his own face and raised one eyebrow. “You see what I look like, right? Your father thought I was a demon. I’m only alive because your mother left me on the beach instead of drowning me in the sea, like your father told her to. Your father was a complete asshole, by the way.”
Hijikata sighed, overwhelmed by what he was hearing. After a minute’s thought, he asked, “How do you know all this?”
“Your mother apparently tracked me down when I was little. I guess it wasn’t hard to find a little boy with silver hair. Anyway, it seems she kept tabs on me from there, at least enough to know I’d been given the name Sakata Gintoki. She wrote me a letter that was delivered to me by a courier when she passed away, telling me about my birth and about her son Toushirou.”
“Do you still have the letter?”
“No. It was burned by the Amanto, along with a camp full of my comrades.”
“How did you figure out I was the Toushirou from the letter? Did it mention my family name?”
“The letter didn’t say your family name, but it did say your date of birth, May 5. Also, I could tell it was you as soon as I met you.”
“Huh? How could you tell it was me?”
“We look alike.”
“No, we don’t!”
“Yes, we do. Even Kagura noticed. Remember when she pointed it out during the Host Club arc?”
Hijikata hated to admit it, but outside of their hair, eye, and skin colors (and their hair’s behavior), there were similarities in their looks. Even more than that, they thought and acted alike, often enough that it scared him. He sometimes thought they were two sides of the same coin. Knowing they were brothers made sense of everything except for Gintoki’s behavior. “You’ve known who I was since we met, but you made a move on me anyway? Why?”
Gintoki cast his eyes down toward the coffee table. Despite the amount of time he had to think about it, he still wasn’t ready to answer this question.
There was something Gintoki didn’t seem to be comprehending, and Hijikata didn’t know how to explain it to him, other than to state the obvious. “We’re brothers. Do you get that? You knowingly had sex with your brother.”
Slipping into his bad habit of acting like a prick when he was anxious, Gintoki smirked and said, “I know, and I would do it again and again, if he would let me.”
The brazenness pissed Hijikata off. Standing abruptly, he said, “Not fucking happening.”
He walked out, slamming the sliding door shut on his way, though he wasn’t feeling angry; he was hurt. Gintoki knew full well who he was this whole time, but he still flirted his way into his bed… into his heart. He had fallen for Gintoki, but it felt like their two-or-three-times-weekly love hotel hook-ups were nothing more than casual fucking for Gintoki.
Hijikata was heartbroken. In the ensuing days and weeks, he buried himself in his work to keep his mind off his former lover.
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In public, Gintoki and Hijikata bickered and acted annoyed to see each other, like they always had, just to keep onlookers from figuring out anything had changed between them. Privately, they didn’t interact at all.
After a few weeks, Hijikata’s conscience started bothering him. Gintoki was his only living blood relative, and they were effectively treating each other like strangers. He felt the need to try to repair their relationship.
The next time they crossed paths, Gintoki was alone, so Hijikata asked him to take a walk with him. It was unpleasantly cold and windy out. The lack of other people outside allowed Hijikata to openly speak his mind as they walked along the river. “I wanted to talk to you, because I don’t like that we’re acting like we don’t even know each other. We’re family. We should at least treat each other like we’re friends.”
Gintoki stopped walking, and Hijikata stopped as well, turning around to look at him. With a scowl, Gintoki said, “I don’t want to be ‘friends’ with you, and we are not ‘family.’”
The words hit Hijikata like a gut-punch.
“We share genetic material, but you are not, never have been, and never will be my ‘brother,’ and I am not yours.”
Gintoki walked away, and Hijikata stood there in shock. He had never been so hurt in his entire life.
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Otose had always known Gintoki to be bad at dealing with his emotions, but in the months since Hijikata found out about their shared parentage, he had gotten even worse. He was drinking more and often came home late after having meaningless sex with random strangers. His coping mechanisms worried her.
Otose gave him time to heal and move on, but one night, she lost all patience. That night, Kagura came into the bar, asking if she could spend the night in one of the booths. She had gone over to Otae’s to spend the night, but Otae wound up getting called into work last-minute, to cover for a friend who was ill. When Kagura tried to go home, Gintoki was there with three other gentlemen. Kagura had the good sense to leave before any of the four men saw her and before she saw anything too lewd, thankfully.
Otose was extremely tempted to march up the stairs and kick Gintoki’s three fuck buddies out, but she knew he was likely drunk or worse, and she didn’t want Kagura seeing him that way. Otose made sure Kagura had a safe place to sleep for the night, and the next day, she bitched Gintoki out for irresponsibly bringing men home like that.
Talking to Gintoki about the reason for his behavior of late would have been pointless at best, Otose knew. When the opportunity arose, she went around him to address the issue. She saw Yamazaki walking down the street one day and stopped him, telling him to let the vice chief know she wanted to speak with him.
Hijikata showed up at Otose’s bar mid-morning of the following day, feeling uneasy. He assumed Gintoki was going to be the topic of discussion, but he hoped otherwise.
The bar wasn’t open yet, but Otose let him in and offered him a drink, which he declined. He sat at the bar, and she stood behind it.
She started the conversation out with, “You know he’s never honest, right?”
He laughed under his breath and said, “He’s a little too honest sometimes.”
She lit a cigarette and said, “No. I don’t think he’s ever been honest with you.” She held out a fresh cigarette and offered, “Want one?”
“Yes, please.”
She handed him the cigarette and lit it for him, then she continued, “If he was honest, he wouldn’t have kept such a big secret from you.”
Hijikata expelled the smoke from his first drag much more rapidly than he meant to, caught off-guard by the revelation that Otose seemed to know everything. He asked, “How… How do you know about that?”
“Unlike everyone else, I didn’t write off how similar you two are to a mangaka’s lack of imagination and art skills. When I asked him if you were his long-lost twin, he denied it, but it was an obvious lie.” She took a drag off her cigarette and asked, “How did you find out?”
Since she already knew his secret, Hijikata decided there was no harm in telling her the story.
It had been a routine day, outside of it being the first day the Shinsengumi was testing out their new portable fingerprint/DNA scanners in the field. The scanners connected to a centralized database of biometrics for known criminals, along with those of members of the Shinsengumi, Mimawarigumi, and prefectural police.
Hijikata saw the scanners from afar during the morning’s briefing, but he wanted a closer look. After everyone was in bed, he finished up the day’s paperwork and went to the armory. He picked up one of the scanners, examined it for a minute, and then he decided to test the device on himself. He pressed the pad of his own right thumb to the fingerprint scanner. After a few seconds, the screen lit up with a match and his information: headshot, name, date of birth, Shinsengumi affiliation, etc. He was pleased with how well the machine worked.
As he set the machine down, he felt a prick on his finger. He had accidentally triggered the scanner to take a small blood sample. As expected, the screen displayed a DNA match to himself. However, it also indicated that there was one more partial match. He tapped the touchscreen to view the other match and was shocked to see a mugshot of the person he was sleeping with, along with his name, date of birth, a truncated list of his suspected crimes, and the words, ‘98% probability full sibling.’ Wanting to make sure no one else would see what he just saw, he hurriedly completed the procedure for clearing the scanner’s test history and set it back on the shelf where it belonged.
At the time, he was in denial; he thought it must be a mistake. However, the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed the machine made an error. Nobody else was encountering false readings when using the machines in the field.
A few days after the incident with the scanner, he told Gintoki about it, thinking he didn’t know. When he found out he knew all along, he ended up punching him in the face. A few days after that, he asked Gintoki if he would be willing to give a sample to send off to a laboratory for a DNA test. He agreed, and Hijikata sent their samples to the lab. A couple weeks later, the results came back. They were definitely full-blooded siblings. He could no longer live in denial.
Otose listened to Hijikata’s story. By the end of it, he looked like he wanted to cry. She offered, “Are you sure you don’t want a drink? It’s on the house.”
He gave an almost imperceptible nod that she took as assent. She poured him a finger of whisky and asked, “Did he tell you the truth?”
He took a sip and answered, “Yeah. He told me my – our – mother had written a letter, telling him why she abandoned him and that he had a brother. A courier delivered the letter to him after she died.”
“No. That’s not what I mean. Did he tell you the truth about how he feels about you?”
He gave a bitter laugh and said, “He did. He told me he doesn’t think of me as a friend or as family and that all he wants from me is sex.”
She frowned and tilted her head. “Is that what he said? ‘All I want from you is sex’?”
“Not in so many words.”
She sighed heavily and muttered to herself, “That boy, I swear.” Addressing Hijikata, she said, “Wait here, please. I’ll be right back.”
She walked out the back door. Hijikata sat right where he was, unsure of what was going on.
A couple minutes later, she came back, with the lazy samurai who lives upstairs in-tow. Hijikata nearly choked on his whisky.
When Gintoki saw Hijikata, he tried to duck out the back door, but Otose caught him by the ear and dragged him behind the bar with her, forcing him to stand in front of Hijikata.
“Ow! Ow!! Let go of my ear, hag!”
Not letting go of Gintoki’s ear, Otose told Hijikata, “Go ahead and ask him anything you want. I’ll make sure he answers honestly.”
Hijikata sat his whisky glass down, trying to think what he should ask. He went back to a question Gintoki dodged when he asked previously. “Why did you make a move on me, even though you know we’re brothers?”
Gintoki gave a pervy grin and said, “You have a nice body—” Otose pulled hard on the ear she still had between her fingers. “Owww!!! Dammit, woman!”
“Answer the man truthfully, dumbass, and I’ll let go of your ear!”
Gintoki made a pouty frown at her, then he looked at a stack of cocktail napkins sitting on the bar and reluctantly answered the question quietly, “Because… I like you.”
He waited for Otose to let go of his ear, but she didn’t. Casting a sideways glare at her, he yelled, “Let go of my ear already! You promised!”
“Tell the whole truth, and I will. He doesn’t need any more of your half-baked, half-assed half-truths. You’ve spoon-fed him enough of those, I think.”
“Ugh, god, fine!!” he whined at her before answering his question for the third time, “I love you! I’m in love with you!”
Otose relinquished his ear, which he then rubbed while mutter-whining, “Fuck. That hurts, bitch.”
She got in his face and asked threateningly, “Who’s a bitch?”
He held up his hands innocently. “No one! Nobody! I misspoke!”
“Damn straight you did,” she mumbled, lighting herself another cigarette.
Gintoki asked Otose, “Can I go now?”
She looked at Hijikata, who had been sitting there all the while in shock, with his mouth hung open, and said, “Not until you get him to start breathing again.”
Gintoki stepped up to the bar in front of Hijikata’s seat, leaned over, resting his elbows on the bar top, and poked Hijikata in the forehead, teasing him, “Oogushi-kun, you have to breathe, or else you’ll never be able to smoke again.”
That snapped Hijikata out of the shock he was in from the confession. He took a deep breath in and realized how much the man whose finger was still outstretched toward his forehead pissed him the fuck off. Since the irritating idiot was so close, Hijikata grabbed him by the collar and got in his face, yelling with increasing volume, “You’re in love with me?! Since fucking when? Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me that? Dumbfuck! Idiot! Moron! Goddamn, you piss me off!!” He let go of Gintoki’s collar and sat back on the barstool. Still breathing heavily, he added in quiet frustration, “You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Tch. I’m not stupid,” Gintoki retorted, crossing his arms, “and I basically did tell you! Don’t you remember me saying, ‘I don’t want to be friends or brothers with you’? What the fuck did you think I meant by that?! I didn’t tell you while we were sleeping together because there was no point! You don’t feel the same. What we did meant nothing to you. Look how easily you walked away from me once you found out we share DNA!”
Hijikata stood up and walked around the bar while responding, “Are you fucking kidding?! You’re incredibly stupid! That is not why I ended things between us!” Standing in front of Gintoki, he argued passionately, “Goddammit, you stupid shithead! Let me spell it out for you. Whether you or I like it or not: We. Are. Brothers! We can’t have a romantic relationship!!”
Gintoki nearly broke down in tears to hear Hijikata reject him in no uncertain terms. However, he hid it behind a calm face for as long as he could. “Only a DNA test thinks of us as brothers. We weren’t raised together. Not counting the day we were born, we didn’t meet until we were in our twenties. You didn’t even know your ‘brother’ existed until a few months ago.” As he spoke of what happened right after he was born, he quickly lost control of his emotions. His volume grew as he pointed out, “I only knew your father long enough for him to demand my murder, and I only knew your mother long enough for her to abandon me in a basket on the beach! Thank god it was May and not wintertime, or else I might have died of exposure!!!”
Hijikata opened his mouth to speak but decided to close it when he figured out he wasn’t sure how he felt, much less what he should say. He thought about it for a minute, then said regretfully, “It’s enough that a DNA test thinks we’re brothers.”
Gintoki made a scoffing noise to hide a pained sob. Walking out of the bar the back way, he said, “Hmm. That’s too bad. I guess we’re done talking.”
Hijikata slowly ran his hands down his face.
Otose got out another fresh cigarette and held it out to Hijikata. He took it, and she lit it for him. “He’s an idiot. Be patient with him. Give him time to calm down and think. Give yourself time to think, for that matter.”
Hijikata took a drag and frowned. “Why? Do you agree with him? Do you think I should ignore our blood relationship?”
Otose held both hands up, indicating she wasn’t taking sides. “I’m not saying I agree or disagree with either of you, and I wouldn’t dare tell you what to do. You have a good head on your shoulders, and I trust you’ll use it. I will say this: If you’re unhappy, there’s a chance you’ve made the wrong choice.”
“Yeah.” He was too exhausted to disagree. He walked to the door and said, “Thanks for the drink…and smokes…and everything else…”
She nodded and said, “Don’t worry too much. I have a feeling everything will turn out fine.”
He really doubted that, but he wasn’t going to waste the energy saying so. He simply nodded and walked out.
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Hijikata took Otose’s words to heart. He thought and thought and thought.
Ultimately, he couldn’t get past his and Gintoki’s being brothers. It was an incontrovertible fact that they were family, whether Gintoki wanted to think of them that way or not, and in his mind, family was 100% off-limits when it came to prospective romantic partners.
He knew it wasn’t an answer Gintoki would like. Hell, he didn’t care much for the answer himself. Still, it settled the issue. He did his best to move on with his life.
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Half a year passed with Gintoki and Hijikata barely being on speaking terms. They were no longer doing a good job of faking their usual belligerent friendship in front of others, and people had started noticing. More than once, Gintoki had to assure Kagura and Shinpachi that he wasn’t in a fight with Hijikata and that the mood was just the result of a cranky mayonnaise and tobacco addict going through mayonnaise and/or tobacco withdrawals.
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The half a year that passed was a lonely and miserable half a year for Hijikata. He recalled Otose’s words, when she said that if he was unhappy, he might have made the wrong choice. He was definitely unhappy.
He missed Gintoki. To his consternation, he noted that he missed Gintoki as a lover and as a friend, not as a brother. He was convinced they were family, so he didn’t understand why he was being such a damn hypocrite and not thinking of them as such. He could only conclude that he must have missed something. He went back to the drawing board and started thinking again from scratch.
He thought about the concept of family and what it meant to him. He didn’t have a lot of experience in the department. He only ever had two relatives he truly considered family, his mother and his half-brother Tamegorou, and both of them had been gone for a long time. His father never acknowledged his existence. His other half-siblings and the rest of his father’s family treated him like shit because he was the mistress’ kid. He never really thought of them as family; they were people who just happened to be related to him.
In that moment, Hijikata realized family and relatives aren’t the same thing. Aside from a spouse you choose to marry or a child you choose to raise, relatives tend to be people who are thrust upon you, whether you want them or not. Family are people you choose to call your own, and they may or may not be related to you by blood, marriage, or adoption. You may choose not to think of a relative as family, as he did with most of his father’s relatives, or you may choose to think of someone who isn’t related to you as family, as he did with Kondo.
If you have relatives you’ve chosen not to consider as family for one reason or another, they’re probably also no one you’d consider as a candidate for romantic partner, but what exactly is it that puts the relatives you do consider family out of the running for romantic partner? The obvious answer is shared DNA, but in reality, there’s a lot more to it than that. The real reason you don’t think of your parents, children, or siblings in a romantic light is that they have a role in your life that precludes the possibility of romance. The type of love you should have for them is incompatible with the type of love you should have for a romantic partner. That’s why most people would see a non-blood-related adopted sibling as being off-limits for romance; there’s no shared DNA, but they’re still a sibling.
His thought process was very enlightening, but it didn’t necessarily help him make decisions about the issue at hand. There were still arguments favoring Gintoki’s point of view and arguments favoring his, and he was finding it impossible to reconcile the two.
Gintoki would argue that their shared DNA was no issue. There was no chance an intimate relationship between them would result in children. Gintoki made it clear he had no interest in being brothers, and if Hijikata was honest, he didn’t think of them as brothers, either; so, the incompatibility between brotherly love and romantic love didn’t apply. Neither of them was grossed-out by the idea of being together. Neither of them had a religious objection to it.
Hijikata would counter-argue that it wasn’t that simple. He had a number of valid concerns that couldn’t easily be dismissed. If their blood relation was found out, it would surely end Hijikata’s career, though he was aware that was a risk he ran just by having a homosexual relationship. Of greater concern, it would likely ruin many of both Hijikata’s and Gintoki’s friendships if it was found out. Most people wouldn’t look favorably upon them if they chose to pursue a romance despite their knowing they were brothers.
There was no choice he could make that didn’t carry huge risk. He could participate in an incestuous relationship that would at best be frowned upon by nearly anyone who found out about it, or he could spend the rest of his life regretting letting Gintoki’s DNA-only identity as his brother get in the way of his being with the man he loves. How the hell was he supposed to weigh those risks against each other?
It was so overwhelming to think about. He wished he never found out they were related, or maybe he wished he never found out Gintoki was in love with him. Unfortunately, he needed to make a decision: Was he going to pursue a romance with Gintoki or not? He wasn’t going to rest well until the question was given a final answer. Until then, it seemed he was going to continue spending every waking moment thinking.
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Another week of thinking raised more questions only Gintoki could answer. They arranged to meet at Gintoki’s apartment one evening while Kagura and Sadaharu were elsewhere.
They sat on opposite couches, neither speaking a word. Hijikata’s anxiety grew as he worked up the courage to speak. He could feel Gintoki’s eyes prying into him. Gintoki was just as anxious as Hijikata, if not more so, as he had no idea what Hijikata was there to say.
The uncomfortable silence ended when Hijikata said, “I have some questions.”
Antsy and wishing Hijikata would get to the damn point already, Gintoki said, “Yes, you mentioned that yesterday.”
Hijikata decided to start with the easy question. “Who knows we’re related?”
“Just you, me, and the old lady.”
It was a relief to confirm that the secret hadn’t spread. Then, with heavy emphasis on the ‘if,’ Hijikata proposed a hypothetical situation. “If we were to date… What if people found out we’re related?”
“I wouldn’t let people find out,” Gintoki stated confidently.
“How would you stop them? I found out by accident. What if someone ran your or my DNA, the way I did? They’d find out.”
“I’ll get someone to hack the database and make it so we don’t show up as a DNA match anymore.”
Stunned by Gintoki’s uncharacteristic pragmatism, Hijikata didn’t say anything else right away. He wouldn’t admit it, but Gintoki’s plan might work. After a minute, he moved on to the next question, again emphasizing the ‘if.’ “If we were to date… What would happen if we broke up? Would we go back to how things have been for the past six months, with us practically being strangers?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether we break up because you’ve decided you want us to be ‘brothers.’”
“That won’t happen. I had a brother. You’re nothing like him.”
“In that case, if we broke up, we would be friends.”
“But… If we broke up… What if, down the road, something bad happens and one of us has no one else to rely on? Wouldn’t it be better if we thought of each other as family? We could be there for each other.”
“I have no problem with us thinking of each other as family. I just won’t do it because of a DNA test. I would think of us as family because…” Gintoki suddenly got shy, “…because I love you. Actually…” he admitted, “…I sort of already think of you as family.”
Seriously, if Gintoki had just said all these things out loud sooner, Hijikata would have been in a much better position to make informed decisions over the past several months. Then again, he didn’t exactly do the best job of saying things out loud, either. He said little enough that Gintoki thought their relationship meant nothing to him, which couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized he never did manage to say the words out loud. He thought he better say it now, or else he would leave this conversation being an even worse communicator than Gintoki. “I love you too.”
Gintoki’s entire demeanor lifted. He asked cautiously, “You do?”
“Yes, but we can’t go back to the relationship we used to have,” Hijikata answered, feeling guilty at the way Gintoki’s demeanor dropped again. “We need to start over. We need a solid foundation of friendship and honesty. I need us to promise we’ll be there for each other, no matter what happens.”
Crestfallen, Gintoki agreed, “Ok. I promise.”
“And we need to take it slower this time,” Hijikata added, walking across the room to the other couch.
Gintoki looked up at him, not following what he was saying.
Hijikata sat next to him and took his hand.
Gintoki still didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t want to get his own hopes up, but it seemed like Hijikata was treating him like more than a friend. The simple gesture of holding hands had him all fucked up. Afraid of being rejected again, he asked hesitantly, “Can… Can I kiss you?”
Hijikata looked down at his lap shyly, nodded, and mumbled, “No tongue.”
Gintoki’s smile returned. He leaned in and kissed Hijikata on the lips. The kiss was gentle and chaste, but it somehow carried far more passion and emotion than any of their countless previous kisses. Overwhelmed by his feelings, Gintoki pulled Hijikata in for a hug. Their arms wrapped around each other lovingly. It was as if they were touching each other for the first time. He spoke into his hair, repeating, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Hijikata repeated back.
The hug ended suddenly when Gintoki had a thought. He facepalmed and lamented, “Fuck. I’m going to have to tell the old bag she was right about everything turning out ok.”
“Ah! Otose-san said that to you, too?”
“Yeah! Oh god, she’s going to gloat about this forever.”
“Let her gloat,” Hijikata said, “It’s a good thing she was right.”
Cheering up, Gintoki kissed Hijikata on the cheek, then he smiled and agreed, “Yeah. I’m glad she was right.”
Written for GinHiji Week 2020 - Day 6: They Were Roommates
Inspired by artwork by luckystars
It all started when a police officer and a suspect he was investigating fell in love. Within three months, their whirlwind romance escalated to the point where the latter asked the former to move in with him.
The couple couldn’t have been happier, but their existing roommates weren’t exactly thrilled. One was being booted out to give the lovers their alone time. The other was being abandoned with ten months remaining on his apartment’s lease. Neither man made enough money to afford rent on his own.
The couple proposed a solution to their soon-to-be-former roommates. They would basically swap roommates. Having few alternatives, the jilted roommates reluctantly agreed to live with a total stranger.
The roommate who was stuck in a lease agreement was a workaholic who didn’t come home but to bathe and get a few hours of sleep a night. The man who was kicked to the curb was the opposite of a workaholic, but he did work sometimes. He often went out drinking, playing pachinko, or hanging out with friends. When he was home, he read manga, watched TV, and slept. The two didn’t cross paths frequently, and when they were at home concurrently, they didn’t get on each other’s nerves. They both thought being forced into the situation turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Their new roommate was better than their old one.
————————
Four months in, their roommates dynamic changed slightly. One day, the workaholic woke up around 4:30 in the morning to get ready for work. He sat up in bed, stretched his arms over his head, yawned, and froze like a statue in that position when he noticed he wasn’t alone. The other side of his bed was occupied by his roommate. The idiot must have gotten drunk and stumbled into the wrong bedroom. He relaxed and shook his head, smiling slightly. What a dork he lived with. He got up and went to work, thinking nothing of the incident.
The thing is, it happened again and again and again, about once a week. The workaholic was annoyed with his roommate for intruding on his personal space. He was also annoyed with his own body. He slept much better than normal with his roommate next to him. He was annoyed that he wasn’t legitimately annoyed when his lazy roommate slept in his bed.
————————
One day, after working way too many hours over the course of way too many days in a row, the workaholic took a day off. He got up as early as always and noted that his roommate was not home. He took advantage of the solitude to eat a leisurely breakfast and enjoy a long, hot shower. When he toweled off and went to get dressed, he remembered that he had literally not a single article of clean clothing. For more weeks than he cared to admit, he had been either too busy or too tired to run laundry.
It would have been a shame to put dirty clothes on his freshly cleaned body. A rude, inappropriate idea crossed his mind. If his roommate hadn’t crashed his sleeping space uninvited four times now, he wouldn’t have considered it, but the guy hadn’t exactly earned a deep respect for his personal space and belongings.
Feeling just a tiny bit guilty, he crept into his roommate’s bedroom and opened his top dresser drawer. He was hoping to find something other than strawberry-patterned boxers, and he did, but it was a red t-back thong. There was no way he was wearing that, so he lived with strawberry boxers, stepping into them and pulling them over his hips.
Now to decide what else to wear. He looked at his roommate’s open closet and saw the white yukata with blue swirls at the ends of the sleeves and bottom hem the man sometimes wore. When his ridiculous roommate wore the yukata, he wore it with his right arm out of the sleeve, like he thought he was a goddamned samurai. The yukata looked comfortable. He pulled it off its hanger, slipped his arms into the sleeves, and wrapped the cloth around his body. It was indeed comfortable, and it smelled good.
He would have ‘borrowed’ an obi, but he had hit a brick wall. He should have slept in, because he was suddenly so drowsy, he thought he might fall asleep where he stood. With a silent thank-you for the clean clothing, he shuffled across the apartment to his bedroom, flopped down on his bed, pulled the covers over himself, and fell asleep.
After finishing his early morning job, the lazier of the roommates came home. He had gotten up before dawn and worked hard, and he was exhausted. He went into his bedroom, stripped down to boxers and a t-shirt, and as had become his custom, headed toward his roommate’s bedroom to take a nap.
His custom started a few weeks earlier, when he got drunk and accidentally went to sleep in the wrong bedroom one night. Through his mistake, he discovered a number of surprising facts: first, his roommate’s bed was super comfortable; second, his roommate smelled good; third, he slept remarkably well with his roommate next to him. He repeated his ‘mistake’ a dozen times, three times while his roommate was in bed and nine while he was at work, and he was about to make that number ten.
He walked into his roommate’s bedroom. Mid-step and mid-giant-yawn, he froze in place. His roommate was asleep in bed, wearing his yukata, one shoulder exposed. How cute. He thanked his lucky stars that he was able to witness this scene. Careful not to disrupt the slumbering man, he pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed, climbed in, and fell asleep.
An hour later, the man in the borrowed yukata woke up. He was still too sleepy to think of opening his eyes, but he slowly became aware that something felt different than normal, and not in a bad way. He was so comfortable. It was like he was in the safety of a pleasantly warm embrace. He was lying on something soft – a different kind of soft from his bed.
He blinked his bleary eyes open and found out exactly what was different. He was lying on his stomach, halfway on top of his sleeping roommate, with an arm across his roommate’s broad chest. In turn, one of his roommate’s hands was resting on his shoulder – the clothed part of his shoulder, thankfully. The yukata had come open and crept down his back while he slept.
He was embarrassed on top of embarrassed. It was mid-morning. The sun was out. His roommate did not smell like alcohol. He smelled great, like a mixture of mild sweat and mild soap. He clearly did not drunkenly wander in here on accident. It made him wonder, were any of the times his roommate fell asleep in his bed an accident?
The second layer of embarrassment stemmed from the clothing he had borrowed without asking. His roommate had surely caught him wearing his clothing. How much of a pervert must he have taken him for when he saw it? He wanted to flee. He slowly and carefully moved to get his roommate’s hand off of him, but the movement woke the man underneath him.
Their faces not even a hand’s breadth apart, they locked eyes. The man on top was certain a yelling match about borrowing clothing without permission and sleeping in another person’s bed without permission was about to begin, but the man on the bottom simply gave a sweet smile, closed his eyes, and wrapped his arm even farther around the man wearing his yukata. Choosing to accept that they were just having an extreme bro moment, the yukata thief relaxed into the embrace, lying his head down in the crook of his roommate’s shoulder, and fell back asleep.
From there, the ‘bro moments’ continued. They started sleeping in the same bed every night, sometimes cuddling, sometimes not, and they constantly borrowed each other’s clothes without asking permission.
Being so close, it was inevitable that their relationship would change again, and change it did. Unexpectedly, it changed during an encounter at the door to their shared bathroom. They happened to get home from work at the same time late one night. Both were exhausted, smelled terrible, and were in urgent need of a shower. At the same time, they both kindly offered to let the other shower first, and then they simultaneously politely declined the other’s offer.
Laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, the lazier man half-jokingly suggested that they shower together. Laughing along with him, the workaholic shook his head in agreement. With pink dusting their earlobes, they both dropped their clothes to the floor and got in the shower. The first part of the shower was a serious endeavor, but once they were clean, they turned into magnets with opposite poles. Not an insignificant amount of water was wasted running over them while they kissed.
Their relationship progressed naturally from there. Eventually, there was no point to the second bedroom they were paying rent for.
They wished they could avoid telling their former roommates they were dating, as they knew the news would make the idiots insufferably happy, but it couldn’t be avoided forever. They invited their former roommates over for dinner, where they prepared to make their announcement. However, before they could say anything, the suspected criminal half of the guest couple asked if the nature of their relationship had changed. At first, they denied it, claiming to be just roommates, but when this was met with disbelief, they admitted that they were roommates, with emphasis on the ‘were.’
Hey guys, sorry but I have taken a decision, and I think I'll stop post nothing on this tumblr account bc the lack participants and content, so we keep this thing on the ginhijiweek account on Twitter
The latest Tweets from Ginhiji Week🍬🚬 (@ginhijiweek). #GINHIJI One week dedicated to spread love & positivity for HijiGin/Ginhiji 🚬⚔️🍬
#Ginh
Idk if someone here is going to participate more (bc only a few persons are participating on tumblr and one of them was me, but I don't have more drawings to post ah), but I'll post the videos to announce the days, just in case.
Oh and a reminder: Late entries are fine! We'll be rebloging them until the 22 of May, good luck guys
Where they are angels, and hijikata fights with every angel he sees, so God take a decision, and hijikata became a fallen angel, but he has his guardian angel 😔🤙🏻❤️
Where they are angels, and hijikata fights with every angel he sees, so God take a decision, and hijikata became a fallen angel, but he has his guardian angel 😔🤙🏻❤️
GinHiji Week 2020 – Day 2 Prompt: Pop Idol
Pop idol Paako x idol otaku Tosshi
Paako’s songs and style shamelessly stolen from Britney Spears.
NSFW for references to self-pleasure.
Tosshi was sixteen years old the first time he saw her. The girl of his dreams was on his television, her mousey brown hair in pigtail braids, wearing a sexy schoolgirl outfit, with an unbuttoned collared shirt tied just above her belly-button, a gray sweater, a dark pleated skirt, and gray thigh-high stockings. As she danced down the hallway of her school with a group of her friends, it was as though she was singing directly to him:
My loneliness is killing me (and I)
I must confess I still believe (still believe)
When I’m not with you I lose my mind
Give me a sign
Hit me baby one more time
As a self-professed anime otaku, he had always disdained idol otaku. He always thought they were deluded to think a real-life idol would ever fall in love with them. To him, that made even less sense than loving a 2-D girl. At least he was aware the manga and anime girls he loved would never love him back.
Falling for this new pop idol upended his entire otaku belief system. He gave up his anime to follow her exclusively.
A year later, pop’s golden girl Paako had a new album on the way, and Tosshi was the secretary of the local chapter of her fan club. He nearly fainted when she appeared on his television screen again, looking a little more grown up than last time he saw her. She turned her brown eyes toward him and sang:
Oops, I did it again
I played with your heart
Got lost in the game
Oh baby, baby
Oops, you think I’m in love
That I’m sent from above
I’m not that innocent
“Heh-heh,” he giggled shyly to no one, “You are sent from above, Paako-chan.”
Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he crawled forward on hands and knees and kissed the TV screen.
The year Tosshi graduated from high school, the best present he received was another album from Paako. Watching her latest music video, he could tell she had broken out of her “little girl” shell and become a full-fledged woman. It went straight to his groin when he heard her sing:
I’m a slave for you
I cannot hold it, I cannot control it
I’m a slave for you
I won’t deny it, I’m not trying to hide it
He jerked off like any healthy boy, but ever since he gave up anime, he hadn’t had much in the way of fantasies to go along with his meat-spanking sessions. This newer, sexier Paako changed that. He came moaning her name at least once a day.
The undisputed hit from Paako’s fourth album came with a music video that was so sexy, it nearly stopped Tosshi’s heart from beating. Paako had her long, flowing, blonde hair down and was wearing almost nothing – just a sheer, sparkly bodysuit. The way she moved made him crazy. She was so flexible. The fantasies he used for beating one out vastly improved in quality as he pictured her writhing and moaning beneath him while whispering her lyrics to him:
Oh, the taste of your lips
I’m on a ride
You’re toxic, I’m slipping under
With a taste of a poison paradise
I’m addicted to you
Don’t you know that you’re toxic?
Three years passed with no new music from Paako. Rumors were rampant that she had become unhinged, kissing other girls and participating in fleeting marriages. Tosshi didn’t pay heed to such things. In his heart, Paako was perfect, no matter what she did or what anyone said or thought about her.
The new music she finally came out with after a string of scandals was worth the wait. Tosshi cheered her on as she lashed out at critics via scathing lyrics:
I’m Mrs. Lifestyles of the rich and famous
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. Oh my God, that Paako’s shameless
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. Extra! Extra! This just in
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. She’s too big, now she’s too thin
(You want a piece of me)
Just when he thought she couldn’t get any sexier, Paako dropped her sixth album. The title song was his new favorite:
All eyes on me in the center of the ring
Just like a circus
When I crack that whip, everybody gon’ trip
Just like a circus
Don’t stand there watching me, follow me
Show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dance floor
Just like a circus
The moment he saw the music video, with her wearing revealing outfits and threatening to crack a whip on him, his fantasies about her changed. He no longer dominated her; she dominated him. And he loved it.
By the time Paako’s seventh album came out, she was nearly thirty, and so was Tosshi. He was still a huge fan, still bought all her music and attended her concerts, but he found that being too outspoken about his love of her was hurting his career. He was a cop, with the possibility to move up in the ranks quickly, and he didn’t want to threaten his future opportunities. These days, he only talked about her anonymously in chat rooms and only listened to her music when he was at home alone. In just boxers and socks, he danced around his apartment with abandon, just like she told him to:
See that sunlight, we ain’t stoppin’
Keep on dancin’ till the world ends
If you feel it let it happen
Keep on dancin’ till the world ends
Two years later, Tosshi had been promoted to Vice Chief of the police force. His job kept him incredibly busy. Even when he wasn’t working, he was too preoccupied to devote any time to his love of Paako.
Unlike her seventh album, her eighth album came out to little fanfare. Sure, he listened to it, but he found that it lacked something. It just didn’t speak to him.
He was nearly thirty-five when her ninth album was released. He was busy with work and basically over being an idol otaku. He didn’t listen to any of the new songs until months after they came out. He was disappointed to find that the music didn’t do much for him. It seemed the idol otaku in him was dead.
————————-
About a year later, Tosshi went out to a karaoke bar with his workmates one night. He wasn’t having much fun listening to drunk salarymen slaughter K-pop or the anime theme songs he loved long, long ago. He leaned back and tried to disappear into the recesses of the semi-circular booth he and his workmates were in.
His ears perked up when a man stepped onto the stage and began singing one of Paako’s lesser-known songs. The silver-haired man sang the song perfectly, hitting every note and getting every lyric right, without even looking at the screen. He also did Paako’s sexy dance moves from the music video. Tosshi’s attention was zeroed in on the man on stage. It was clearly a man on the stage, but he somehow embodied everything Tosshi had always loved about Paako as he sang:
One, two, three
Not only you and me
Got one-eighty degrees
And I’m caught in between
Countin’
One, two, three
Peter, Paul, and Mary
Gettin’ down with 3P
Everybody loves me
The man finished his song, to plenty of applause from the drunk bar patrons. Tosshi asked his workmates to let him out of the booth, claiming he needed to take a piss. He found where the man was sitting, at a small table off to the side, with a woman sitting on his lap. He found the courage to approach and said, “Hi. I just wanted to let you know that I used to be a huge Paako fan. You did an amazing job with her song and dance moves.”
“Oh, thanks,” the man said, unceremoniously dumping his companion on her ass on the floor and telling her, “Scram!” before gesturing the other chair at the table and offering to Tosshi, “Would you like to join me? I was just about to order another round.”
“Gin-san!” the woman wailed. When he completely ignored her, she wailed more. “Gin-saaaan! Step on me! Pleeeease!!!”
The man caught the waiter’s attention and ordered two fresh beers. He then extended a hand across the table and said, “As you may have figured out, my name contains ‘Gin.’ I’m Gintoki.”
Tosshi’s eyes made contact with Gintoki’s striking crimson eyes. He shook his hand and introduced himself. “Good to meet you, Gintoki-san. I’m Tosshi.”
The man held a hand up. “No honorifics, please. Just Gintoki.”
“All right. Just Tosshi is fine for me.” Tosshi was pleasantly surprised by how personable this guy was. He was also surprised by how deep Gintoki’s voice was. While singing, he could almost pass for Paako, but his speaking voice was far too manly to be mistaken for a woman’s. As the waiter brought their drinks, he started the conversation. “So, you like Paako’s music too?”
“Hmm, yeah. You could say that,” Gintoki answered noncommittally. “You look a little older than the average Paako fan.”
Tosshi blushed. “Yeah, I suppose. She and I are only a few months apart in age. I’ve been a fan since her first single came out.” He laughed nervously and admitted, “I was president of the Japan branch of her fan club back in college.”
“Ohhh?” Gintoki raised his eyebrows, then he acted bashful, hiding a blush by taking a big swig of beer. He swallowed and set his mug down. Watching his finger trace circles in the condensation on the table, he asked, “You said you ‘used to be’ a big Paako fan. Does that mean you’re not anymore?”
Tosshi would have been lying if he said he was not a fan at all, but he was usually too busy for anything aside from working or sleeping. He thought if it wasn’t for his heavy work responsibilities, he would still be an active fan, at least of her older music. Seeing one of her songs performed so well tonight stirred up his old feelings for her. He answered, “I’m still a fan.”
Gintoki took another swig of beer, then he said, “The reason I know Paako’s music so well is that I actually know her. We, we’re,” he suddenly started tripping over his words, “We’re actually roommates. Would, uh, would you like to meet her?”
Tosshi set his beer mug down more heavily than he meant to. Wide-eyed, he leaned forward and asked, “Really? Are you serious? That’s awesome! I would love to meet her!”
Gintoki smiled charmingly, and Tosshi’s nostalgia kicked up a notch. Once he started thinking about Paako again, it seemed everything was reminding him of her, even the smile of a random guy he met at a karaoke bar.
They both polished off their drinks and stood up. On the way toward the door, Gintoki intentionally stepped squarely on his female companion’s stomach. Tosshi thought for a second that he might have to intervene in a domestic violence case, but the woman writhed blissfully and said, “Thank you, Gin-san!!”
Tosshi let his workmates know he was going home for the evening, and then he followed Gintoki to his house. It was a large, very nice house, well out of Tosshi’s price range, as expected from Paako.
“Have a seat,” Gintoki said, gesturing toward the couch. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thanks.” Tosshi was too keyed-up to drink anything.
“I’ll go get her,” Gintoki said, heading up the stairs.
Tosshi thought he might die before Paako came down the stairs. He was about to meet his favorite pop idol. He was about to meet perhaps the only woman he had ever loved. He wrung his hands nervously, fingers itching for a cigarette.
Several minutes later, Paako walked down the stairs in a short, black, ruffled skirt, white leather jacket, pink, orange, black and white mid-calf socks, and metal-spike-covered black boots. Tosshi recognized the clothes as Paako’s from the I Wanna Go music video. The person who just walked down the stairs was Paako but wasn’t. It was clearly the man Tosshi came here with, but it was also clearly Paako. Tosshi was extremely confused.
Smiling sheepishly, Gintoki held his hands out at his sides and said, “Not quite what you were hoping for, right?”
Tosshi swallowed hard. This seemed like a precarious situation, and he wasn’t sure what he should say. “You- You’re Paako?”
“In the flesh.”
It seemed like a stupid question, but Tosshi couldn’t think of any other question to ask. “You’re a guy?”
“Since the day I was born.”
“But… But you were a girl…” Tosshi tried to talk himself through what might be going on. “You were small and cute. You wore little skirts and stuff… How…?”
Gintoki sat on the ottoman adjacent to Tosshi. “I was eleven years old when I was first scouted for TV.”
“I know.” Of course, the former president of Paako’s fan club would know when she got her big break.
“I was scouted because I was small and cute. I looked like a girl. All they had to do was throw a wig, colored contacts, and makeup on me, and I became Paako.”
The explanation shook Tosshi’s world, but it made sense. It at least covered how a guy was able to get by as Paako as a youth, but once he became an adult, it should have been obvious he was a guy. “What about when you grew up? I mean, you weren’t wearing much in some of those music videos… Did they replace you with a stand-in?”
“No. That was me. You’d be astonished by how little of what you see on TV or in magazines is as it appears.”
They both sat silently for a couple minutes while Tosshi digested this new information. Ultimately, he determined everything he ever thought about Paako was real. To his surprise, finding out Paako was a guy didn’t disrupt his feelings for Paako at all. He spoke up with, “Well, knowing you did everything you did as a guy makes it that much more impressive.” He looked at Gintoki, smiled, and said, “Thank you for letting me meet my idol.”
Gintoki gave a relieved smile. “You’re welcome. Can I tell you something else? Do you promise to not be too freaked out?” Tosshi nodded in agreement, and Gintoki said, “I remember you from when you were president of my fan club. We never met, but I saw you at my concerts. You were so enthusiastic and happy, and it was because of me. Remembering it years later, once it started getting difficult for me to pass as a girl, it gave me motivation to keep my career going. Honestly, I had a crush on you back then.”
Tosshi was surprised, both by the confession and by the way he wasn’t disgusted by it. He laughed under his breath nervously. “I obviously had a crush on you too.”
“What about now? What if I said I would like to spend more time with you?”
Tosshi blushed and nodded.
Gintoki grinned.
Tosshi had a sudden thought. “Do you have all the props from Paako’s music videos and concerts?”
“Of course.” Gintoki took advantage of the opportunity, asking, “Do- Do you want to come upstairs and see them?”
Tosshi involuntarily jumped up from the couch and enthusiastically exclaimed, “Yes! I would love to!”
Gintoki laughed. “You really are a superfan, aren’t you?”
“Sh- shut up!” It had been a long time since Tosshi geeked out this hard, and he was embarrassed.
As they walked up the stairs, Gintoki asked, “What would you like to see first?”
“Hmm. Do you still have the whip from the Circus music video?”
“Yep,” Gintoki answered. He then sang some of the song’s lyrics:
There’s only two types of guys out there
Ones that can hang with me
And ones that are scared
“Which type of guy are you, Tosshi?” Gintoki asked, with a wink.
Tosshi blushed and answered quietly, “That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?”
“Good afternoon, Hijikata-san. This is Sakata, the guy I told you about last time. He’s been working his way up in the family, running several successful business ventures, and he’s ready for his first tattoo.”
Hijikata nodded, sliding the door to his parlor’s private room open.
Sakata followed, leaving his companion behind, and slid the door shut behind himself.
Hijikata looked his slack-faced, dull-eyed, business-suit-clad client over and questioned, “Are you ready for this, Sakata-san? Do you understand what’s involved in irezumi?”
“Yeah, I’ve been told it takes forever, is expensive as fuck, and hurts like a bitch.”
It seemed the client understood, so Hijikata asked, “Did you have a design in mind?”
“Uh, yeah… Here…” Sakata pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his inner breast pocket and handed it to Hijikata.
Hijikata unfolded the paper and studied the artwork. The imposing face of a white demon featured prominently, with a water serpent coiling around it, surrounded by various flowers. He imagined what it would take to make it the right size and shape to cover the entire back, from the shoulders down to the thighs. The artwork was beautiful, and he was honored to permanently etch it onto a human body. He looked up at Sakata and said, “I’ll need to sketch it out in washable marker, to get an idea of the scale and make sure it’ll fit your body. Please disrobe and lie on your stomach on the tatami.”
Hijikata looked away while Sakata disrobed and laid down. He then sat on the floor next to him. He didn’t move for a minute because he was struck by the gorgeous, pristine white skin. He knew from looking at Sakata’s face that he was unusually light skinned, but seeing such a large swath of it drove the point home. He had always thought tattoos are beautiful, but for the first time ever in his career as an irezumi artist, he felt a tattoo would only cover up the natural beauty beneath it.
Sakata propped himself up on his elbows and looked curiously at Hijikata. With a grin, he asked, “Is everything ok?”
Hijikata hastily nodded and said, “Please lie back down.”
He then began outlining the major components of the artwork, and they talked idly while he worked. Sakata was surprised to hear that Hijikata used to be a policeman, and Hijikata was surprised to hear that Sakata used to be a solider.
While Hijikata noted that the artwork was indeed a perfect fit for Sakata’s back, he also noted that the more he touched the skin and spoke with the skin’s owner, the less he wanted to do the tattoo, and not just because it would taint the skin’s beauty. They had a lot in common. They had both been unwittingly dragged into organized crime, when all they had ever really wanted was to make sure the people they cared about could live peacefully. He wished he could take Sakata away from the yakuza. He wished he could touch Sakata’s skin, without ruining it with ink.
Hijikata finished and said, “All right; I’m done. I’m afraid the marker will bleed into clothes if you get dressed right now. Would you like me to wash it off? It should come off with just a little soapy water and a washcloth.”
“Yes, please,” Sakata answered. When Hijikata returned and began cleaning him, Sakata felt creeping onto his cheeks a blush that he didn’t understand. It wasn’t as if he was a virgin. He had been with plenty of women, but none of them had touched him so gently. None of them were so easy to talk to. Frankly, none of them were as attractive as Hijikata, with his good-looking face, fit body, and touchable-looking long hair. He could tell the former cop hated that he had become tangentially involved with the yakuza, his artistic gifts relegated to marking thugs with signs of lawlessness. He wished he could take him somewhere far away and give him the peaceful life he wanted.
“There you go,” Hijikata said, dabbing the last of the water from Sakata’s back. “Are you able to come back tomorrow to start the process? I’m available in the evening, around eight.”
“Yeah.”
Hijikata turned away again as Sakata put his clothes back on.
“Thank you, Hijikata-san,” said Sakata as he walked out the door, “See you tomorrow night.”
————————
Hijikata turned away while Sakata disrobed and laid down on the tatami, and he sat down next to him. He took his time arranging all his implements on the floor next to him, dragging out the process as a way of avoiding tarnishing the perfect skin in front of him.
“Sakata-san…” he started hesitantly, but he immediately stopped himself. His mind was full of bad ideas. He shouldn’t act on them. He should do his damn job and keep his damn mouth shut. To do anything else would invite the wrath of a powerful yakuza family.
Sakata propped himself up on his elbows and looked at Hijikata. When he saw the conflict on his face, he became worried. He sat up entirely, exposing the front of his nude body, and unconsciously reached a hand out and touched Hijikata’s face. “Hijikata-san, what’s wrong?”
Hijikata’s fearful eyes locked with Sakata’s concerned eyes. Hijikata was terrified that he had fallen in love at first sight. The emotion was overwhelming, and it was wrecking his judgment. There would be no way he could do Sakata’s tattoo, touching him, seeing his flesh laid bare, talking to him, and being near him, without losing control. He had only one chance of getting out of this without doing or saying something that might get him killed. He put a hand over Sakata’s and pulled the pale, gentle hand off his face. Reluctantly, he said, “I apologize for wasting your time. You should get someone else to do your tattoo.”
Confused, Sakata frowned. “But… I want you,” he could have ended the sentence there, and it still would have been true, but he continued, “I want you to do the tattoo.”
Hijikata bit his lip nervously. There were emotional sparks between him and Sakata like none he had ever felt before. He was being tempted beyond his limit. Before he could stop it from happening, words gushed from his lips: “Run away with me.” He gasped and tried to stuff the words back in his mouth, rapidly recanting, “Shit, shit, shit, no, no, I, I didn’t mean it…”
He was stunned by the response.
Sakata came up onto his knees and hugged him, running fingers through his hair and whispering, “Yes. Let’s run away.”
Hijikata didn’t move. He dared not breathe for fear he might break the magic of the waking dream he was sure he was having.
Sakata broke the hug and looked Hijikata in the eyes. Quietly, he restated, “Let’s go. Right now.”
Hijikata let out a tense breath at the realization that this might really be happening. In disbelief, he searched Sakata’s eyes for signs of untruth and whispered, “Are you serious? Are you sure?”
Smiling, Sakata reached for Hijikata’s face again. With a hand on either side, he said, “Yeah. I’m serious.”
Hijikata mirrored the touch and upped the ante, leaning in for a kiss. Lips touched softly, and then mouths opened, and their tongues embraced with passionate, scorching heat.
A minute later, Sakata broke the kiss to give his solemn affirmation, “I’m completely serious. Please, let me take you away from here. Let’s leave right now. We can start over somewhere far away.”
The sentiment finally pulled a smile from Hijikata. He nodded, and they did exactly as they said. Sakata’s clothes were too obviously those of a yakuza, so he borrowed nondescript street clothes from Hijikata. They set out with just the clothes on their backs and minimal belongings packed in two backpacks. Leaving all their worldly possessions behind, they started their lives fresh in a faraway land.
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For years, that yakuza family searched for its up-and-coming star member and its preferred irezumi artist, to no avail.
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On the other side of the country, in a quaint shack with a vegetable garden, two men happily lived out their lives as lovers. They earned a living doing odd jobs. They went only by their given names – Toushirou and Gintoki – and they never spoke of the past.
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