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rainsometimesAnother fill for Ginzura week!
Title: The Rain Is Best Observed From Under A Roof
Prompt: Rain
Word count: around 1300
Rating: G
Characters/pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Spoilers/setting: no spoilers, set anytime in “more or less status quo” canon
Disclaimer: Hideaki Sorachi owns these characters. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fic is not to be used for profit
The rain hung in the air for half a day before letting loose, first coming down in a great rush, as if in a hurry to catch the lunch crew; then eventually slowing down into a gentle but steady downpour. It was still april, and the rainy season hadn’t yet arrived, but the humid air felt close enough to the real deal for Gintoki, who’d been out doing some spying for a client and now took the rest of the day off after his target had left the city.
He stopped by a café and scrounged up enough money to pay for a cup of hot chocolate to warm up. And as it happened it turned out Zura was there as well, sitting quietly on his own by the open window. When Gintoki decided to risk some annoyance (it might even give him some energy, not that he’d admit that) and sat down in the opposite seat, Zura looked up from his cup of tea and matcha cake and said, “Oh, it’s you.”
Then he asked about everyone’s health, offered up that he’d just moved again and Elizabeth had gone through a spring cold but was fine now, tried to interest Gintoki in buying some frightful “Jôi Energy Bar”, and went back to watching the rainy scene outside in silence. Two young trees stood in front of the café, flush with new green leaves. Even with the window opened, all the sounds of the city were muffled.
Seeing Zura look out at the gentle spring rain like that gave Gintoki a strange mixed feeling. Half of it felt so familiar, so tangible it was downright intimate, as close to his skin as the humid air that came in through the window. Half of it felt distant, so faraway it was almost otherworldly. Even though just a couple of minutes ago Gintoki had kicked him in the face for the stupid energy bar and Zura had viciously pinched him in return.
It was a familiar kind of farawayness, though, one he associated with Zura only. It made him think of old quiet afternoons together with Sensei and the other two, rain coming down on the wooden roof; it made him picture watercolour paintings and calligraphy, of all things. It made him feel like Zura had become someone you shouldn’t touch, someone set apart, more like a distant figure in a painting than real life.
And moments like these, they made him unsure if what he really wanted to do was reach out and touch the guy and destroy the spell, or to sit still and just watch him, giving in to the spell, soaking it up. But in either case, what he found himself quite unable to do was to stop looking at him. His eyes stayed stupidly glued on Zura’s face – and that annoyed him, because it was just Zura, after all, and Gintoki had known him to look all poetic like that only to open his mouth and say something unbelievably dumb or loony the next second.
He thought he wished he would do that right now, but he wasn't entirely sure. Rainy days were strange, that way.
*
Katsura was looking out at the rain, lost in thoughts. There was something about a quiet spring rain that made the world seem so fluid to him, blurring the boundaries of the years. He remembered struggling as a young child to find shelter, when he’d been wandering the roads with Granny; he also remembered remembering those days as an older child, lonely in his empty house yet grateful to have a roof over his head. He remembered the pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the temple school, Sensei proclaiming a break so all the kids could come closer together, have tea and eat a bit to feel warmer. He remembered being the one to make the tea when it was just the four of them, sitting by the porch and looking out at rain and green fields, the other two boys often wrapped in blankets to get dry.
He also remembered battles held in the rain, defeats and retreats and hard-won victories, but the rain wasn’t soft and gentle in those memories.
And he remembered digging graves, in the rain...
Then there was an impatient grumbling noise close by, and Katsura blinked, being brought back to the café. Right, Gintoki was here. Leaning his elbow on the table, chin in palm, and looking at Katsura all disgruntled for some odd reason.
“What?” asked Katsura, frowning.
“What what? I didn’t say anything.”
“It sounded like you wanted to,” Katsura pointed out.
“Hnf. You’re letting your tea go cold, moron.”
“Oh…? Oh, I guess I was.” He drank the tea quickly before it could get colder. Then he added, “I was just thinking of certain idiots who never had the sense to come in out of the rain. All those times I’ve been chasing after them with umbrellas and jackets… And then you would come hold and fall sick anyway.”
“Oi oi, that’s all back in the past! Don’t get hung up on the past like a tiresome wife who can never let her husband live down when he forgot their third anniversary.” Gintoki held up a mint green umbrella. “See? I brought this when I left home, since I listened to Ana Ketsuno’s weather report. I came prepared. Anyway, it’s not my fault you’re too dumb to catch colds and I’m not.” But while he was saying that, Katsura felt his foot under the table sneak up towards his ankle, rubbing against it.
“And nobody ever told you to do all of that, either,” Gintoki added, his foot now playing with Katsura’s sandalled foot before moving further up the side of his leg. “Face it, Zura, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you can’t mother anyone.”
“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” said Katsura, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. He took hold of Gintoki’s sleeve, holding it with just two fingers. Not touching his hand directly, that would be too demonstrative in public and broad daylight – just doing his part in reflecting the action underneath the table with a more subdued version above it. “I’m glad you agree, at least,” he said, schooling his voice to cloak his underlying delight.
“I didn’t say that!” protested Gintoki. Well, true, he hadn’t, but he also hadn’t taken the opportunity to rail against that same tendency of Katsura’s, which coming from Gintoki was more or less a tacit approval.
“With the way you are, Gintoki, it’s not like I’ll ever get a chance to put that statement to the test,” he said in a tone of triumph.
He had no idea why the weather had seemed to put Gintoki in a frisky mood, but he was happy to take advantage of it. He sent Elizabeth a text asking her if she would terribly mind go see a movie for the next three hours, then got up and took his umbrella. “You haven’t seen my new flat yet, right?” he asked Gintoki. The one good thing about moving so often was that you had a ready excuse to invite people over.
“Probably ain’t much to look at,” said Gintoki rudely, but got up on his feet and followed him outside. “That new?” he added, glancing at Katsura’s purple umbrella.
“That’s right!” said Katsura brightly. “Looks a bit like Leader’s, doesn’t it?”
Gintoki shrugged, picking his nose. “I guess. That’s why you bought it?”
“Yes! To be reminded of her youthful exuberance and fortitude whenever I use it!”
Gintoki smiled at that. Perhaps he had been thinking of someone else who was fond of purple. Well, no need to dwell on that guy right now.
Underneath the umbrella, the soft rain sounded more vivid and energetic than from inside the café. The two umbrellas jostled each other on the narrow Kabuki street, close together under the darkening sky.
Title: The Rain Is Best Observed From Under A Roof
Prompt: Rain
Word count: around 1300
Rating: G
Characters/pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Spoilers/setting: no spoilers, set anytime in “more or less status quo” canon
Disclaimer: Hideaki Sorachi owns these characters. They are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fic is not to be used for profit
The rain hung in the air for half a day before letting loose, first coming down in a great rush, as if in a hurry to catch the lunch crew; then eventually slowing down into a gentle but steady downpour. It was still april, and the rainy season hadn’t yet arrived, but the humid air felt close enough to the real deal for Gintoki, who’d been out doing some spying for a client and now took the rest of the day off after his target had left the city.
He stopped by a café and scrounged up enough money to pay for a cup of hot chocolate to warm up. And as it happened it turned out Zura was there as well, sitting quietly on his own by the open window. When Gintoki decided to risk some annoyance (it might even give him some energy, not that he’d admit that) and sat down in the opposite seat, Zura looked up from his cup of tea and matcha cake and said, “Oh, it’s you.”
Then he asked about everyone’s health, offered up that he’d just moved again and Elizabeth had gone through a spring cold but was fine now, tried to interest Gintoki in buying some frightful “Jôi Energy Bar”, and went back to watching the rainy scene outside in silence. Two young trees stood in front of the café, flush with new green leaves. Even with the window opened, all the sounds of the city were muffled.
Seeing Zura look out at the gentle spring rain like that gave Gintoki a strange mixed feeling. Half of it felt so familiar, so tangible it was downright intimate, as close to his skin as the humid air that came in through the window. Half of it felt distant, so faraway it was almost otherworldly. Even though just a couple of minutes ago Gintoki had kicked him in the face for the stupid energy bar and Zura had viciously pinched him in return.
It was a familiar kind of farawayness, though, one he associated with Zura only. It made him think of old quiet afternoons together with Sensei and the other two, rain coming down on the wooden roof; it made him picture watercolour paintings and calligraphy, of all things. It made him feel like Zura had become someone you shouldn’t touch, someone set apart, more like a distant figure in a painting than real life.
And moments like these, they made him unsure if what he really wanted to do was reach out and touch the guy and destroy the spell, or to sit still and just watch him, giving in to the spell, soaking it up. But in either case, what he found himself quite unable to do was to stop looking at him. His eyes stayed stupidly glued on Zura’s face – and that annoyed him, because it was just Zura, after all, and Gintoki had known him to look all poetic like that only to open his mouth and say something unbelievably dumb or loony the next second.
He thought he wished he would do that right now, but he wasn't entirely sure. Rainy days were strange, that way.
*
Katsura was looking out at the rain, lost in thoughts. There was something about a quiet spring rain that made the world seem so fluid to him, blurring the boundaries of the years. He remembered struggling as a young child to find shelter, when he’d been wandering the roads with Granny; he also remembered remembering those days as an older child, lonely in his empty house yet grateful to have a roof over his head. He remembered the pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the temple school, Sensei proclaiming a break so all the kids could come closer together, have tea and eat a bit to feel warmer. He remembered being the one to make the tea when it was just the four of them, sitting by the porch and looking out at rain and green fields, the other two boys often wrapped in blankets to get dry.
He also remembered battles held in the rain, defeats and retreats and hard-won victories, but the rain wasn’t soft and gentle in those memories.
And he remembered digging graves, in the rain...
Then there was an impatient grumbling noise close by, and Katsura blinked, being brought back to the café. Right, Gintoki was here. Leaning his elbow on the table, chin in palm, and looking at Katsura all disgruntled for some odd reason.
“What?” asked Katsura, frowning.
“What what? I didn’t say anything.”
“It sounded like you wanted to,” Katsura pointed out.
“Hnf. You’re letting your tea go cold, moron.”
“Oh…? Oh, I guess I was.” He drank the tea quickly before it could get colder. Then he added, “I was just thinking of certain idiots who never had the sense to come in out of the rain. All those times I’ve been chasing after them with umbrellas and jackets… And then you would come hold and fall sick anyway.”
“Oi oi, that’s all back in the past! Don’t get hung up on the past like a tiresome wife who can never let her husband live down when he forgot their third anniversary.” Gintoki held up a mint green umbrella. “See? I brought this when I left home, since I listened to Ana Ketsuno’s weather report. I came prepared. Anyway, it’s not my fault you’re too dumb to catch colds and I’m not.” But while he was saying that, Katsura felt his foot under the table sneak up towards his ankle, rubbing against it.
“And nobody ever told you to do all of that, either,” Gintoki added, his foot now playing with Katsura’s sandalled foot before moving further up the side of his leg. “Face it, Zura, you don’t know what to do with yourself when you can’t mother anyone.”
“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura,” said Katsura, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. He took hold of Gintoki’s sleeve, holding it with just two fingers. Not touching his hand directly, that would be too demonstrative in public and broad daylight – just doing his part in reflecting the action underneath the table with a more subdued version above it. “I’m glad you agree, at least,” he said, schooling his voice to cloak his underlying delight.
“I didn’t say that!” protested Gintoki. Well, true, he hadn’t, but he also hadn’t taken the opportunity to rail against that same tendency of Katsura’s, which coming from Gintoki was more or less a tacit approval.
“With the way you are, Gintoki, it’s not like I’ll ever get a chance to put that statement to the test,” he said in a tone of triumph.
He had no idea why the weather had seemed to put Gintoki in a frisky mood, but he was happy to take advantage of it. He sent Elizabeth a text asking her if she would terribly mind go see a movie for the next three hours, then got up and took his umbrella. “You haven’t seen my new flat yet, right?” he asked Gintoki. The one good thing about moving so often was that you had a ready excuse to invite people over.
“Probably ain’t much to look at,” said Gintoki rudely, but got up on his feet and followed him outside. “That new?” he added, glancing at Katsura’s purple umbrella.
“That’s right!” said Katsura brightly. “Looks a bit like Leader’s, doesn’t it?”
Gintoki shrugged, picking his nose. “I guess. That’s why you bought it?”
“Yes! To be reminded of her youthful exuberance and fortitude whenever I use it!”
Gintoki smiled at that. Perhaps he had been thinking of someone else who was fond of purple. Well, no need to dwell on that guy right now.
Underneath the umbrella, the soft rain sounded more vivid and energetic than from inside the café. The two umbrellas jostled each other on the narrow Kabuki street, close together under the darkening sky.