[Gintama] Immortal

The winter of that year seemed particularly cold.

The maple forest in the back mountain fell all the red leaves overnight, the silent earth was buried in thick white, and the snowflakes that were torn and fluffed fell indistinctly, covering the dark green tombstones behind the temple with dazzling white.

Taking off the white cloth strips of the wake, the private school returned to its original appearance, the paper lanterns hanging outside the door were extinguished, and after being folded, they returned to the warehouse.As the end of the year approached, private schools were closed, and the classrooms without students suddenly became much emptier and quieter.

Worried that the temperature would be too low at night, Songyang specially added a few quilts for them, and added a lot of charcoal to the long brazier. When he woke up, the smell of burning charcoal remained in the Japanese-style room, mixed with the cool chill in the air.

There was a muffled sound of falling to the ground in the courtyard outside, probably from the snow on the pine branches.

There was no one in Gui's quilt, but the quilt was neatly folded and next to the pillow.

Yinshi withdrew his gaze, nestled under the quilt and did not move.

He wakes up very early.

It's rare to be able to sleep late without worrying about being dragged up. He didn't wake up from the cold, but he couldn't fall asleep after waking up, that's all.

The morning is covered with misty blue, the corridor is quiet, as if familiar footsteps will sound in the next moment, and the sliding door of the Japanese room slid open, even if you close your eyes and turn around to continue sleeping, the memories in your memory The voice will also persevere in pursuit:

"It's snowing outside, get up quickly."

The sky outside the window is gradually brightening, and the snowy world seems to be covered with a layer of white veil, making everything hazy.

The charcoal in the long brazier was burned out, and the remaining temperature cooled down. Yinshi wrapped the quilt tightly and turned over, and then turned over again, tossing about in the quilt as if he was going to wrap himself into a caterpillar.

"It's noisy."

The other person in the room finally couldn't take it anymore.

The fluffy head moved slightly under the quilt, and Yinshi poked his head out.

"If you think it's noisy, you should get up." He drooped his eyelids.

Takasugi has never been polite to counterattack:

"Wake up early tomorrow, why are you pretending to sleep?"

"..." He choked slightly, and Yinshi quickly realized, "Oh? How do you know that I woke up long ago?"

It was different from usual, after a brief confrontation between the two, there was no more content. Perhaps it was cold, and talking would make people lose strength. There seemed to be a leak in the body, and the warm vitality gushed out from this opening. , there is only a silent shell left, and the occasional short sentence is the limit.

On winter mornings, the kitchen is the first place where the private school becomes lively.

The steaming soup pot was gurgling, and the clear and neat sound of the kitchen knife falling on the chopping board. It was the end of the year, and no one in the village opened fire. The dishes for the first month were prepared in advance. On a dark day, if someone in the private school wants to eat roasted sweet potatoes, the small oven will be ready to go, and the Buddha will not be able to stop it.

For things like traditions and rules, Yae always only picks up the respect she likes.

Yinshi yawned, opened the wooden door, and the figure standing in front of the stove turned around following the sound, showing a smile in the slight morning light.

"Good morning, Yinshi."

Song Yang's beautiful eyes were curved, and the wide sleeves of the kimono were rolled up with cloth strips and tied in a knot at the back, revealing white arms and slightly protruding wrist bones.He tied up his long light-colored hair, and he seemed to have skillfully changed his clothes into a dark color that is resistant to dirt—a commendable effort—but he was probably so engrossed in watching the fire that he didn’t notice any A few strands of hair loosened and fell to the side of the cheek.

Gintoki's yawn stopped in the middle of it.

He moved his eyes from Songyang's face to the steaming soup pot, then from the soup pot to the chopping board scattered with chopped green onions, and finally walked around the kitchen for a long time before returning to Songyang.

"……What are you doing?"

Songyang looked at the soup pot with white smoke billowing beside him: "Make breakfast?"

Yinshi: "...you used question marks just now, right? You definitely used question marks just now, right?"

He got off the tatami, put on his clogs and ran to the stove, glanced roughly at the battle on the counter, and confirmed that Matsuyo was indeed cooking miso soup.

The scallions on the chopping board were terribly neat, as if they had been measured with a ruler.

Yinshi was silent for a moment, then clicked his tongue: "It's better to leave this kind of thing to the wig."

Before he finished speaking, he already regretted it.

Sure enough, he heard Songyang smiled slightly, and said in that gentle and low voice: "I want to try it myself."

According to Yae, Shoyo can only cook porridge—the most basic kind of porridge, purely for the sake of fullness, the kind of porridge that only has another choice besides rice balls when ninjas perform missions outside.

It is said that when the two traveled together, for a while they climbed mountains and mountains every day, and there were not many people on the road in the deep mountains and old forests. Yae was tired of eating miscellaneous cooking, and was finally forced to make enough food and clothing by himself, and fell in love with him out of control. It is the process of making the dishes that are too salty-this is her official explanation to the private school students.

Other things aside, Yinshi still has a deep psychological shadow on dishes that are too salty to die for.

When Yae first started to learn how to cook, he always added salt and soy sauce desperately for fear that it would be tasteless, and he was especially keen to let people try it, whether it was radish miso soup or cold burdock shreds, even taro that should have a little sweet taste, It was also so salty that it made your mouth bitter, and your face wrinkled as if you were about to shrink in.

Facing the hell-level soy sauce dishes in the early days of Yae, only Shoyo ate them without changing his face.

Smiling, as if he had no sense of taste, he ate all of it with special praise.

Later, Yae's culinary skills gradually improved. Although he still couldn't get rid of the label of heavy taste, he was at least on a normal track.

He thought that his memory had faded with time, but at this moment he suddenly remembered, and he definitely remembered that the first thing Yae learned to cook was miso soup.

Use bonito flakes to boil the broth, filter the residue, then cut the tofu, pour in the broth, boil the miso sauce over a low heat, chop the green onion, and turn off the heat.

Countless mornings, when he came to the kitchen rubbing his sleepy eyes, he always saw Yae busy in the hazy morning light.

"Obviously I've watched it so many times, but when it's my turn I'm still in a hurry."

Yinshi looked at Songyang, it seemed that he was really just talking about miso soup, his voice was a little sad, but his expression was calm.

Songyang has been very calm.

It seemed that a friend who had known him for many years was away on a long trip, and he had been very calm since Yae was gone.

A wake is a must for funerals. The candles in the private school are lit every night. Yinshi wakes up late at night a few times, and Songyang's room is always brightly lit, as if he is really waiting for someone to return.

When he couldn't wait any longer, on the eve of the funeral, Songyang asked him softly:

"Silver, did you see anything?"

He shook his head, Songyang didn't say anything more.

Dust covered the coffin, and when the thick snow fell on the grave, the surrounding students stood a little numb in the snow, Songyang just touched their heads, and said gently and calmly like a teacher: "Let's go back .”

On the way back, the snow was still falling, and the snowflakes fluttered one after another to captivate the eyes. Everything in the field of vision was left with this cold and single color.

Songyang walked in front of them, the snow gradually fell heavily, and it hit people hard, he didn't realize it, he just kept walking, his eyes didn't know where to look, the figure walking in the snow was a little far away strangeness.

When Gui Shen chased him up and called him, "Teacher! You went the wrong way!", Songyang turned around, and the expression on his face was still the same as they were familiar with.

"Ah, I almost lost my way if I was not careful." Songyang bent his eyes and smiled as usual.

Matsushita village school is not in this direction.

He stood in the vague snow, and for a moment he seemed to be standing there alone.

In Nuo Da's world, the snow is getting heavier and heavier, almost covering people's expressions, leaving only a vast blank.

Changzhou, which is warm all year round, has not seen such a heavy snowfall for decades. Later, when people talked about that winter, they all blamed the abnormal weather on the bloody wind of the Kanzheng Prison, and regarded it as an ominous sign. .

Gao Shan suddenly stepped forward and grabbed Songyang's wrist tightly.

"Let's go back, teacher." He whispered, his height reached Songyang's shoulders, and in a few years, maybe he would no longer need to look up at his teacher.

He grabbed Songyang's hand, obviously already grasping it, but he seemed to want to grab something, he almost paused every word, and repeated it with the force of carving the air: "Go back, teacher."

The soup pot on the stove boiled.

Large flakes of water foam overflowed from the edge of the soup pot, Songyang quickly lifted the lid, blew the cooling steam, scooped a little miso soup with a long wooden handle and put it on a small porcelain plate.

"Want to try it?"

Songyang's voice brought Yinshi back to reality from his thoughts.

He took the plate that Songyang handed over, and casually tasted it.

The soup of unknown taste slid down the throat and into the abdomen, only a slightly hot feeling remained in the body.

Yinshi knew that Songyang was watching him.

Smacking his lips, he showed a slightly disgusted expression and lowered his eyes.

"too salty."

That year came to an end in the blink of an eye, and as soon as the midnight bell passed, the crowd of first-time visitors appeared in the shrine as if out of thin air, and there were buzzing voices everywhere, which was extremely lively.

As usual, Songyang exhorted, "Follow up to the teacher and don't get lost." As if they were little potatoes a few years ago, they could all be held together with one hand.

The walls are covered with colorful painted horses, and the sacred tree in the courtyard has not escaped. The branches are covered with white lotus paper, like white camellias, clustered together in groups.

Putting the coins into the Saiqin box, Gui rang the bell, bowed seriously and saluted the god twice, straightened up and clapped his hands again.

May the poor families in the world have food to eat, and the tabby cat in the widow's house next door can give birth safely.

Katsura Kotaro's wishes are also jumping in the same way. Once Yae told him that the gods are not so stingy, and a few more wishes are fine, as long as they are said out loud to show sincerity, he really did. , was not annoyed by Takasugi's ridicule, but added a wish very seriously: May Shinsuke Takasugi grow an inch taller in the new year.

For the next period of time, Gintoki lived quite comfortably, and the one who was singled out by Takasugi in the kendo class became Gui.

At the beginning of the new year, people wear their best clothes, and the quilted feathers are ironed neatly.

The lanterns cast an orange halo in the night, and there were people standing in front of the wooden wall where the painted horses were hung, and their breaths formed a whitish mist in the cold air.

Yae has never been very interested in making wishes to the gods. She is always more interested in other people's wishes than in making wishes herself. Every time she comes to the shrine, she always stands in front of the Ema wall and looks at the wooden signs openly. All kinds of wishes.

"Silver time?"

He raised his head, and Songyang compared him: "Have you grown taller again?"

The clothes he wore at the beginning of last year seemed a bit shorter this year, and someone seemed to have cut off a part of Haori's sleeves. Even if he crossed his chest and tucked his hands to his sides to keep warm, there was still a part of his wrist exposed to the cold wind. .

Songyang looked around and saw that there was no shelter from the wind in the shrine, and the houses on both sides of the worship hall were surrounded by open walls, and non-clergy were not allowed to enter.

Gui and Takasugi are writing Ema. I don’t know what kind of wind this year is. Gaoshan was dragged by Gui to make a wish together this time. He didn’t directly refuse as usual, but stood in the cold wind seriously and began to write.

The sand and gravel on the ground of the shrine made a cold rustling sound, and the lights were bright at night, but they didn't have any warmth. Instead, people could clearly see the white mist they exhaled.

There were people's voices buzzing around, Songyang took off his feather hood and put it on him, reached out and hugged him, using his body as a barrier to completely block the cold wind.

"This way it won't be cold." Songyang said with a smile.

The pupils shrank slightly, Yinshi's expression froze, and he forgot to react for a while.

He grew taller than before, no longer a toddler whose height reached Songyang's waist, with messy curly hair, and looked a bit like a big cat when he was silent.

After a while, Yin Shi whispered, "I'm not cold."

As he said that, the boy lowered his head slightly, as if he leaned on Songyang's shoulder inadvertently.

very warm.

Warm and do not want to move.not at all.

"Really," he heard Songyang chuckle, with a low and gentle voice, "but Yinshi is most afraid of the cold, isn't he?"

Afraid of cold and lonely.

Songyang touched Yinshi's hairy head.

"It will warm up in spring."

It's spring.

Yinshi thought of the glazed porcelain vase in Songyang's room.

At the beginning of autumn, Songyang replaced the flowers in the alcove with the flowers in the alcove and the platycodon grandiflora at Yae's request.Now that late autumn has passed, those withered dried flowers are still in the bottle, as if the color and vitality have been squeezed out by the cold winter, leaving only thin and brittle shells, withered and yellow.

When will it be replaced.

"...Songyang?"

"Huh? What's wrong?"

Yinshi raised his head, the night sky was pitch black with few cold stars, the light of the lantern was soft and hazy orange, and Songyang's expression in his memory was also blurred.

"...Did you make a wish?"

"Did Yinshi make a wish?"

Obviously he was the one who opened the mouth first, but the question was thrown back by the other party.

Did he make a wish then?

... promised.

It was a rare and useless wish that he made seriously once.

But wishes don't come true.

The private school did not wait for the cherry blossoms that year.

……

The blazing fire burned the night sky red, as if it was going to burn a hole in the world.

The scorching high temperature even distorted the air. He was pressed by the Zen rod, and he could only struggle on the ground like a trapped animal, his throat was blocked with a scream like weeping blood, and his mouth was full of the rusty taste of blood.

—— "Please take care and protect everyone."

It's an appointment, Yinshi.

silver hour.

He heard a strange, distorted voice that seemed to be squeezed out of his throat, half crying and half laughing, so sad that he couldn't even utter a whimper.

——"I heard that there were ghouls on the battlefield, so I came here to take a look. I didn't expect it to be such a cute ghost."

A warm liquid dripped down his face.

It seems to be blood.

The author has something to say:

Before 2018, I caught up with 【Helping the Chest

Recently, I have devoted all my time to papers, reading papers and revising papers every day, what can I ask for [nothing]

Thank you for your patience

Next, the update frequency will return to normal

Short [? ]'s chapter on fighting barbarians is now available