Summary: Katsura Kotaro and Takasugi Shinsuke confront each other 1 week after the Benizakura Arc, with results neither expected.
Warnings: YAOI
Disclaimer: All characters owned by Sorachi Hideaki.
Notes: Tsunpo is Bansai's alias. Okama means "drag queen". Bakufu refers to the corrupted shogunate government. For those not familiar with the Gintama world, the setting is Edo during the 1860s Meiji Restoration period mixed with present-day Tokyo.
Dedicated: To Orange-Maple! And special thanks to Lecidre!
Beta'ed by: xquisittexabie m(_ _)m
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Takasugi x Katsura
DECAY HEAT CHAPTER 1 : MEETING
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Life doesn't betray you; You are Life...The Bakufu didn't betray us; we created the Bakufu...Shouyu-sensei wasn't betrayed by a foreigner, but by a traitor within. Nobody betrayed your love, Shinsuke; you're the one who rejected everyone walking on a different path from yours. Choose another path, Shinsuke, one that doesn't lead to destruction.
Choose it, and I'll gladly meet you halfway.
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How ironic it took a transvestite businessman to teach me this humbling lesson. Mademoiselle Saigo: Height: 195cm. Weight: 101kg of pure muscle. Lifestyle: Okama.
"Now bow down to Mademoiselle Saigo and apologize!" I shoved my foot onto the back of the troublemaker who fell to his knees in front of the owner of Kabuki-cho's premier okama club. His two other companions quickly started to bow their foreheads again and again to the marble floor. I used to be just like that guy. When I first met Saigo at the ramen restaurant, I immediately called him a "freak." Boy was I forced to eat my words. But thanks to his teaching, I've become much more open-minded.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please forgive me!"
"Why should I forgive you?" Mademoiselle Saigo growled, biceps bulging imposingly under his kimono as he folded his arms and drew himself to his full height. Underneath the geisha make-up, the square jawed warrior looked as fearsome as the day he single-handedly crushed 200 Amanto during the alien invasion. If this "lady" wanted to kill you, there was pretty much nothing you could do.
"Spare me! I'll never insult another okama again in my entire life!" The troublemaker begged.
"Forget it! I'm not letting you off so easily! You'll have to work for a month in our shoes to pay for the damage you caused to our self-image! Ladies, take them away to the changing room!" He stabbed his index finger at the three offenders and a trio of my colleagues appeared and dragged the pathetic men away for their punishment. I grinned somewhat sheepishly. Even I, Katsura Kotaro, leader of the Joi movement and a gentleman sworn to live by the highest principles, had been guilty of the same intolerance. Compared to my own samurai lifestyle, the okama have hardly disturbed the peace of Edo. Yet I judged them as shameful and perverted. Only now, after a month of mandatory cross-dressing, do I truly see them as they are: fellow members of the male species who simply enjoy playing the role of the opposite sex! Okaaay…. I still don't find them aesthetic. But abnormal? Freaks? No! …how can I? Not when I see them bravely leading a warm and colorful life in the face of social discrimination. Such a soul is truly beautiful beyond that of a man or a woman!!
I turned to Saigo, wryly said. "Why can't we develop empathy without the use of brute force?"
"A little tenderness doesn't hurt." He laughed. "Provided you carry a big katana. A very big katana."
Two young men dressed in grey business suits walked up to Mademoiselle Saigo. The first guy took off his sunglasses and politely introduced himself as an associate of Tsunpo. Saigo raised his thick eyebrows, impressed. The associate passed him his cell, indicating that Tsunpo was on the line. After some small talk, Saigo exclaimed. "Zurako? You're inviting Zurako to the boat party?" He threw me an astonished glance. Zurako was my okama nickname. After a few more moments, Saigo hung up and passed the phone back to the associates, who bowed and went outside.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"You mean you don't know who Tsunpo is?"
I shrugged. "No, should I?"
Mademoiselle Saigo looked calculating as he scratched his permanent five o'clock shadow. "Well, he is a respected figure in the entertainment industry. A famous music producer and songwriter. You know Otsu? Edo's newest pop sensation? All her hits were written by him."
"Impressive."
"Yeah, but it's odd because he doesn't frequent our circles. However, he heard about our nightclub and apparently, he was impressed by your performance on the shamisen."
"Shamisen? I'm but an amateur."
"You're very talented at it, even I said so. Anyways, Tsunpo said he was auditioning for a pair of shamisen-playing femmes for a tentative project. Some retro-style album. So he set up a boat party tonight for prospective musicians to mingle. You've been invited."
"Femme? But I'm a guy."
"What do you mean, okama don't count as females?"
"Mademoiselle! Surely we're beyond such distinctions?" I said diplomatically. "But of course I can't go to the party. I have to do the fan dance at midnight."
"Zurako! I'm giving you the night off." Saigo grinned and clapped me on my back. "Tonight might be your lucky break! This might be your chance to cut a record deal and become Edo's new shamisen sensation!" He laughed. "This is Tsunpo we're talking about. Do you know how many young musicians line up in front of his studio door just begging for 5 minutes of his time? But he never sees them; he has the reputation of being a reclusive genius." I hesitanted. Saigo thinks I'm a vagrant ronin. But I'm really a full-time Joi revolutionary posing as an okama to escape the intense heat imposed by the Shinsengumi following the bloody aftermath of the Benizakura Battle. Even though dozens of our comrades sacrificed their lives to protect Edo from Takasugi's rampaging Kiheitai, our contribution went unrecognized. I was still a wanted terrorist who could ill-afford public exposure of any sort…
"I'd rather not."
"Aww, just go for it, Zurako. Go see what's up, you can always say no if you're not interested. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, I'll kick your ass if you don't give it a chance."
I still hesitated. Saigo started pushing me towards the exit. "Go…just…go. Don't be nervous, this guy is 100 percent legit. His 2 associates are waiting outside to drive you to the party."
"Okay then." I guess there was no harm in showing up. What were the odds of bumping into the Shinsengumi at a random boat party? Besides, I was in disguise. "Thanks for the break. I'll represent the okamas for you."
"Represent!" Saigo cooed, punching up a formidable fist.
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I got into a red and black Maserati and cruised towards the Harbourfront, which was deserted at this time of night. The car then swerved into a forested park and crunched along the gravel path for another 15 minutes before breaking through the woods. We stopped next to a deserted warehouse sea opened out inky blue before us, glimmering softly under the faint moonlight. The sickle-shaped moon was well past its last quarter and on its final stage of decay. Tomorrow, there would be no moon, simply a void in the sky. All was completely silent and eyes drank in the pristine colors...it's been a while since I've seen the night sky untainted by sodium-orange streetlamps or obnoxiously blinking neons. What a pleasure, even if this was not the most pleasant of August nights. The air was suffocating hot and saturated by the sweet, sickly exhalations of decomposing autumn leaves. Tall clouds billowed sluggishly across the sky, anticipating a thunderstorm that refused to break. I had to admit though, the effect of an iridescent halo formed by the clouds drifting across the moon was both delicate and magical.
We walked for another 10 minutes through the silent streets. Occasionally, the wind would bring a bushel of dead leaves that cart-wheeled across our path. My ears pricked up at the sound of loud, trashy J-pop seeping out of headphones. Waiting at the corner of a warehouse was a tall, well-built young man with long leather jacket, spiky J-rock hair and narrow shades. A shamisen was strapped to his back and he was bopping his head while scribbling something into a notebook. Behind him stretched a wooden platform leading out to the sea. A medium-sized houseboat was parked at the end of the dock. The light of a single candle could be seen flickering through the shoji screens.
"Tsunpo-sama. Zurako is here." So this was Tsunpo? He was younger and fitter than I imagined. In fact, there was something dangerous in his cool, self-absorbed aura that made me distrust looked up with a slight smile on his handsome face. "Glad you could make it, Zurako." He nonchalantly cocked his head in the direction of the houseboat, hummed "La-la-la" and walked off, clearly expecting me to follow him. I frowned. He was too informal for my taste. Besides, there should be more noise and more people than that. I looked at my escorts, who bowed and departed without a word.
Tsunpo looked back and pushed up his headphone from one ear. "Sorry, did you say something?"
"Why is it so quiet? Didn't you say you were hosting a function?"
Tsunpo hit the pause on his player and stared at me for a moment. He smirked. "Your tune resembles….Chitose Hajime singing "Katari Tsugo Koto" at the closing credits of the anime BLOOD+. No wonder he finds it so lovely."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I changed my mind. I'm just auditioning the two of you tonight. You and Tako-chan. Since I'm planning on producing something in the new age/electronica genre, you know, with freestyle poetry in the background… I thought a more…contemplative atmosphere would be fitting. I hope you don't mind the last minute changes…"
"So how long will the audition take?"
"That depends on your compatibility with Tako-chan."
I had a bad feeling about this whole thing. But Mademoiselle Saigo was one of the 4 "Pillars" of Kabuki-cho and he had vouched for Tsunpo. Perhaps he was really just as eccentric and reclusive as rumor had it. Besides…I knew my friends Gintoki and Elizabeth would do anything for me if I needed help. Still…
"I see. In that case I'll have to inform Mademoiselle Saigo of the change in schedule. Do you mind if I borrow your cell?"
"Easy breezy… Japanesy…" he dialed Saigo's club and casually passed the cell over.
"Zurako? What is it? Is something wrong?" Saigo's deep voice sounded concerned. I felt a little stupid for being paranoid.
"No, I'm at Tsunpo's houseboat now, there's only one other girl at the audition. So I don't think I'll take very long. I should be back before closing time."
Saigon boomed with laughter. "HAHA. I see you are getting cold feet! GABETE. I will always support you!"
I grimaced. "Alright. See you later, save some sake for me."
"Pass the phone to Tsunpo, I want to say something to him."
Tsunpo grinned at whatever Saigo said. "You want me to send him back if it gets too late? 'Course I can, but that depends on him...haha…if you know what I mean." He snapped his cell shut and started descending the rusted, barnacle-encrusted steps which led into the steps rang with a hollow metallic sound, and the warm pungent scent of the humid autumn sea seemed to permeate through my clothes and cling to my skin. When I hopped onto the prow of the boat, the deck swayed slightly under my weight. I soon got used to the gentle rocking movement of the untied the ropes and the boat began to drift away from the dock. He fired up the engine which purred a lot more stealthily than I would have expected. The motor sent out a cascade of foamy white spray which rapidly propelled us away from the shore. The glow of the city lights faded and everywhere was swathed by inky blue night. No escape now…I found myself thinking. But hey, Tsunpo doesn't know you're a Joi rebel. Why would he want to harm you?
Tsunpo walked to the shoji door of the main cabin and slid it aside using the black lacquer handle. The interior bloomed with flickering shadows, like the surface of a paper lantern. The light source came from behind the shoji wall leading to the opposite walkway. The silhouette of a geisha knelt there, patiently holding a shamisen. She bowed ceremoniously when we entered but did not say a word.
I was awed by the exceedingly tasteful interior, evoking memories of my childhood spent in an ancient Japanese temple school. The wood was fine-grained with age and gave off a soft, soothing texture. The paper was warm, pliant and soundless. The perfectly proportioned alcove and smoky dark ceiling were resplendently enveloped in shadows. Tsunpo and I sat down at the only furniture in the room, a low square table arranged with four sandy cushions. A charcoal brazier set beside the table glowed cherry red, heating up a pot of water in which soaked a decorated flask of sake. Fragrant fumes wafted through the cabin. We were lulled by the lapping of the waves, the salty breath of the sea, the silky walls softly blooming with the flickering candle light…which pulsed at the occasional currents of the night breeze. However, it was very hot. Sweat began to form all over my body. We really should be opening the shoji doors to let the breeze in. But I guess my host knew that as well as I did. I'll just have to bear it for now. Luckily, I was not wearing any face powder despite posing as an okama. I hated that stuff. The only concession I made was to wear a light layer of iridescent-green lipstick and pink eyeshadow.
There was one saucer-like sake cup on the table and Tsunpo started pouring the sake. "Enjoy…" he indicated. I just politely declined. Traditionally, it was a sign of friendship to share sake, but I wasn't comfortable doing so with a complete stranger. Tsunpo smirked but he didn't seem to really care. Neither did he touch the cup.
"First, Tako-chan will play a piece." He explained. "You create a poem. Then she'll pass the shamisen to you. You play a piece and she makes up a poem. I'll just listen and get inspiration. Go ahead, relax and express yourself! This is supposed to be fun and lighthearted, nothing will be recorded tonight."
Suddenly, Tsunpo's cell buzzed. He flicked it open and read the message with an air of satisfaction. "Oops, something just came up. I'm terribly sorry but I have some phone calls to make. Forgive me, Zurako…" He clapped his hands. "Tako-chan! The mic is all yours!"
Tsunpo bowed, I bowed, and the silhouette of Tako-chan bowed. Tsunpo left the room and the sliding door slid close. I heard the door to the back cabin slide open and close.
Tako-chan struck a single note on the shamizen. I frowned. It was exceedingly familiar. The strains of an ancient samurai melody were evoked as if out of the depths of my own heart. That! It can't be! That was first song we were taught by Shouyou-sensei… . I couldn't help feeling inadvertently bonded to this stranger behind the screen. I listened strings were plucked a little too heavily for my taste, but the intensity was compelling. Each note was pitch perfect and the timing immaculate. Even more than that, there was a real experience of bittersweet love. Whomever this geisha was, she definitely had the x-factor of a good shamisen player. Even the way she held the instrument was a little unusual, in fact a little wanton, if you ask me. But it was perfectly controlled.
I began thinking about how I had changed after living in Edo. I still had clear plans to reform the corrupt Bakufu…but if I really think about it, the real reform I have achieved has been with my own life. Yes, I now realized that it was the small things that I do for my friends that make me really happy. In fact, because they can be harmed by riots and terrorist bombings, I have virtually stopped doing so. I want to reform Edo, but only in a way that will not cause misery for my friends.I thought of all the important people in my life…Gintoki, Kagura and Shinpachi, Elizabeth and my loyal Joi comrades, Saigo and the okamas and especially Ikumatsu who made me feel a special kind of affection. I even respected the Shinsengumi for their efforts at maintaining peace in Edo. I shook my head. To be honest with myself, I could no longer place the cause of the Joi movement above their welfare. My hands clenched and I slowly raised the tips of both palms to cover my lips. Poetry came unbidden to my mind.
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Like a cooling flow
Soothing my soul
My persistent goal
Edo's peace will grow
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Tako-chan's body quivered. A deep, masculine laughter burbled menacingly from the depths. That voice!
Takasugi Shinsuke!
How can this be? Tsunpo and – It's a set-up! I stood up and reflexively reached for my katana, which of course wasn't there. In a flash, I whipped out my kaiken and pointed the gleaming steel blade towards the screen. If it really was Takasugi, then no two ways about it:
I will cut you down.
The night was utterly silent. Tsunpo did not leave his cabin and I figured there was hardly a chance that he would sneak up behind me. Knowing Takasugi, he probably wanted our confrontation to be one-on-one so that he could have the satisfaction of a personal victory. Even as a child, he was fanatical about proving his personal strength. He always had to be the winner, whether by words or fists. During our clash over the Benizakura, I tried to persuade him to change his ways. Since he could never admit his mistakes, the vindictive man must have taken that as an insult and lured me here to exact his revenge. But I felt nothing. I was no longer a goddamned idealist when it came to Shinsuke, how could I when he has tried to murder me more than 3 times in the past year? Yet for the longest time, I clung to a vain hope that my childhood friend was fundamentally good.
I was wrong.
The person put down his shamisen, took off his hairpiece and rose up with dignified slowness. He was of medium build, slim and compact. He lifted his left hand and slowly began rubbing his chest. The shadow of his arm merged into the silhouette of his loosely knotted yukata. The thin material billowed out, flapping in the breeze.
He replied to my poem in a deep, powerful tone. My blood froze.
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Inflamed by passion my comrades fell
Justice is a feeble spell
Hate penetrates and invades
Edo will burn in hell!
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You beast! I already warned you, I will never let you harm Edo! I pulled back my kaiken to fling it through the screen. Good-bye, Taka –
The shoji screen was shoved aside with a clatter and Takasugi elegantly leaned back against the doorframe. The sickle-shaped moon hung low beside his head, its bleached-white light shattering apart a column of glinting wavelets leading into the darkness. When I saw his familiar figure shrouded in inky blue shadows, I could not unleash my killing blow. Perhaps because he was obviously unarmed and mockingly slouched with his guard down. Perhaps because of his immense confidence that we still shared a deep bond despite his betrayal. Most of all, his scheme to bring me here using Tsunpo had too many loopholes to be an assassination attempt. He had an ulterior motive and I decided to hear him out. I lowered my kaiken a little, but continued to point it at him.
"Takasugi, don't waste my time."
Knowing that I was open to negotiations, Takasugi chuckled. He took out his pipe and began to fill it with tobacco, the action revealing a large swathe of his bare chest. I frowned. Takasugi dressed so provocatively, revealing too much flesh. Looking at him now, you would never guess that he used to be such a strikingly meticulous dresser when he was younger. But his hair was the same… dark, thick and slightly curling, always looking wild and unbrushed, yet he always gave the impression of carrying himself with powerful poise, like that of a coiled snake about to strike. Like a snake, his small pupils could be piercing and reptilian. But tonight, as he lit up his pipe, his right eye was like a deep, dark and brilliantly shining pool. The other eye was swathed in linen bandages that ran across his forehead.
With sensual calmness, Takasugi lifted his long stemmed pipe away from his lips and blew out a bluish wisp of smoke. Then he turned and fixed me with a seductive smile.
"Put your kaiken away, Zura," he said in a velvety voice, "You're hurting my feelings."
"You're making me feel…betrayed."
To be continued…
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My first Gintama fic.
Please review because reviews are love. :)