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AI art "近藤勲" featuring #Gintama and #Cool Pose You Think

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近藤勲

銀魂

Contest Entry

Poses You Think are Cool

#Gintama

Published on Oct 25, 2026

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character: kondou_isao, shimura_tae, kondou_isao_is_kneeling_on_the_dusty_ground_in_a_deep_dogeza_prostration, shimura_tae_(otae), copyright: gintama 2girls, kondou isao, shimura tae, dogeza, deep prostration, kneeling, forehead pressed to dirt, head down, pleading, desperate, black shinsengumi uniform, gold trim, white cravat, spiky hair, red highlights, disheveled hair, short hair, stubble, pink kimono, cherry blossom print, blue obi, brown hair, updo, hair bun, icy expression, unimpressed, half-closed eyes, looking down, arms crossed, standing, superiority, kabuki-cho, street, traditional japanese wooden buildings, vertical signage, japanese characters on signs, edo-period and modern mix, late afternoon, warm sunlight, long shadows, cel shading, from side, full body, wide shot, gintama style The camera sits at a low three-quarter angle from the side of the street, close to the dirt: in the foreground Kondou Isao is folded into a deep dogeza, knees and shins flat against the dusty packed earth, both palms pressed flat to the ground just outside his shoulders, elbows slightly bent, his whole torso pitched forward so that his forehead is planted in the dirt and the back of his neck and the ridge of his spine rise in a steep arc toward his hips — the highest point of his silhouette. His short spiky black hair with red highlights is shoved forward and mussed along the crown where the bow drove it down, a few tufts standing up out of place, dust clinging to the tips and to the forehead hidden against the ground; a short stubbled jaw and goatee catch the low light where his cheek turns up toward the camera. He wears the black Shinsengumi uniform: the black collared jacket with long sleeves runs unbroken along his curved spine, gold trim striping the cuffs, the collar and the shoulder seam and catching the sun in bright thin lines, the white cravat at his throat bunched and flattened where his chin is crushed down. His hands are splayed wide, dirt pressed pale under the pads of his fingers and a faint sheen of sweat on the dust-mottled skin; his shoulders tremble up in the posture of a man begging with everything he has, though his face is buried and only the desperate set of his shoulders and the strained tendon in his neck tell it. Above and slightly beyond him, standing on the same street with the light behind her left shoulder, Shimura Tae stands tall with her chin lifted and her arms folded across her chest, weight on her back foot, one hip cocked, looking straight down the line of her nose at the top of his bent head. Her long brown hair is gathered up in its usual bun at the crown with the parted bangs and sidelocks falling neatly at her temples, unshaken by any wind. She wears a pink kimono covered in pale cherry blossom patterns, the sleeve hems hanging straight down at her folded elbows, and the blue obi cinched flat and wide at her waist; her half-lidded brown eyes are fixed on him with flat, icy contempt, one brow barely lifted, mouth a thin pressed line, and where the folded arms cross her hands rest still and unbothered. She gives no sign of moving or answering him. The street runs beneath and behind them: packed dusty ground in the foreground, then a row of traditional wooden buildings with dark timber posts and deep eaves on the left and right, their facades carrying tall narrow vertical signboards stacked with painted Japanese characters in white, vermilion and indigo, weathered and slightly crooked; further back, a tangle of overhead cables and a modern shopfront sign juts out between the Edo rooftops, mixing the old and the new. The late afternoon sun comes in low from the left and behind Otae, warm orange light striking the tops of the wooden eaves, the side of her kimono and the gold trim on Kondou's back, while the street between them falls into deepening shadow; both figures throw long, thin shadows that stretch away from the light across the dirt, Kondou's shadow short and flattened beneath his own body, Otae's running far ahead of her feet. Dust motes hang in the slanted beam, and the dirt around Kondou's hands and forehead is compressed into shallow dents with a few grains scattered where his hair dragged. Palette is warm ochre dirt, dark timber brown, black and gold on him, pink and blue on her, with the sun's orange as the one saturated accent in the sky-lit upper third. A sharply drawn cel-shaded comedy beat, mean and bright.

近藤勲

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