Author's note: I do not own anything from Gintama. Please review after reading. Just so you know, this story is in draft mode. Sorry, don't have time to let my fics be betaed. I'm super busy and so you get an idea of how busy I am, combine the business of a mother and a father and the secretary of the president of a country. And yeah... Um, it's 1 AM, I'm on hospital duty ignoring useless referrals and attempting to write this chapter properly. Get ready for some aaaction. :D
UPDATE 5-9-13: This story has been edited to a less graphic version. It's in danger of getting deleted. Ack. You'll find the full version in my tumblr or wordpress account.
5/12/13 - Fixed some details in this chapter and transferred a few paragraphs.
Chapter 1: It's Fun to Drink at a Bar, But Picking Up Girls is Even Better
The place was a medium-sized and cozy rectangular area. Sofas were scattered randomly in the vicinity and three mini bars were positioned on opposite sides of the room. There were a few tall round tables with stools planted amongst the couches and large, fluffy pillows were thrown on the rugs. The lights dimmed as more people -and Amanto- entered to find their spot. There was a light buzz. It seemed like everyone was excited for the show.
But none more than the man himself sitting on the back couch. He kept his red eyes trained on the empty stool onstage, illuminated by the spotlight. Anticipation gripped him intensely, his right hand secured on the hilt of his wooden sword.
"We start in five minutes!" A voice boomed out of nowhere. "Is everyone pumped up for tonight's show?"
A chorus of assent surrounded the place. People were obviously eager to see tonight's star. She was a known regular performer for years now and each night, she captivated the crowd.
This piece of information intrigued him. If his sources were right, then this would aid with his intentions. He had plans, big ones, and tonight could possibly be the culmination of all that.
Gintoki Sakata. 28 years old. Single. From Edo, Kabuki-cho district. Founder of Yorozuya Gin-chan. Described as tall, muscular, deep voice, red dead fish eyes, silver white permed hair and one of the most skillful and strongest samurai in Japan. But tonight, he was not all that.
Tonight he was in disguise. Same physique and eyes but his hair was slicked back and temporarily darkened into brown. He grew a light beard to conceal part of his features. Right now though, it was very itchy and extremely annoying. He wanted to get this night over with.
Turning to his right, he addressed his first companion, a younger male, 21 years of age, Shinpachi Shimura, one of the current members of the Yorozuya. He was without his glasses presently and was squinting at the stage, "Are you sure this is the place?" Gintoki asked the boy who now had an orange crew cut. "You have to not be wasting my time."
Shinpachi nodded eagerly, "Yes. I'm positive, Gin-san. My source is very reliable, as I've kept assuring you for the past week."
"Relax, Gin-chaaan, yo." A girl of 17 piped up to his left. Kagura. Her hair was now light green, straight and down to her waist, instead of its usual red-orange color in a pair of buns. She also donned a darker green moustache, which he thought destroyed the entire disguise-thing. "Otsuu-chan has inside info on this. Remember, one of the guys on her music team is most likely involved."
"Yeah, yeah. I just don't want another dead end or wild goose chase. That's where all your sources have led us so far," Gintoki grumbled. "I'm tired, hungry and sleepy. I want some strawberry parfait, extra large. And then afterwards, I'd like some sake. Then maybe have a woman to fu-"
"Oi Gin-san! It's starting!" Shinpachi cried, pointing at the stage where a miniscule creature with wild pink and blue hair stood.
"All right! Ka-ching!" Kagura grabbed a tub of popcorn from a neighboring table and proceeded to munch on the bucket's contents. Gintoki wanted to point out that this wasn't a movie theater but a conversation distracted him from behind.
"What's the big-o deal with this woman? Let's just go to a strip club," a man not far from Gintoki croaked.
"Wait and see. She's totally beautiful and charming. The typical shy and submissive but sexy woman," was the reply of a deeper voice.
The other man guffawed, "I've been with plenty of women like that."
"She a really good singer. Her voice is heavenly but that's a given. What everyone's really into are her outfits and dancing." He chucked, followed by a tinkling of glasses.
"What do you mean?" asked his companion, burping.
"She's such a tease. She wears these thin, almost transparent dresses, giving you a glimpse of her delicious naked body. And the way she dances onstage, swaying those hips... Oh boy, you'd get a boner just watching her."
"Oh man, I can't wait. This might just be worth it. Is it also true about her eyes?" The man inquired.
Gintoki's ears perked up. What about the eyes? He wondered.
"Yeah. They say she has severely bad vision and has to wear glasses all the time. Every time she performs though, she takes them off."
"Why?"
"Well, during an interview, she mentioned that the audience is a blur without them. It's better so she won't get stage fright." The men laughed.
"Awesome. She sounds cute. Can she be groped while she's up there? I'm getting really fired up for this. Does she go home with customers?"
"Nah, they're strict about that. But if you've got connections or money, I heard she'd do a private session with you in her dressing room. It's just a rumor, though."
The conversation was halted by cheers of people near the stage. Gintoki focused his attention on the stage curtain, heart thumping, pulse racing and mouth dry.
Within seconds, a woman walked through the drapes, and took her place on the lone stool. His eyes widened, jaw dropped. It was her. He found her.
Stalker.
He mentally shook his head. Ayame Sarutobi, was her proper name, known to most as Sacchan. She was a ninja, Shimatsuya, and one of the few surviving members of the disbanded Oniwabanshuu.
She looked nothing like an assassin tonight, instead she was as delightful as the two men behind him talked about.
He stared at her, taking in her complete appearance. Her hair was still lavender but shorter, about shoulder length, and slightly curled at the edges. Her eyes, purple and large, had a discreet blank stare probably because she lacked her glasses. Her beauty mark, he noticed, was still very much under her right eye. Her face was only mildly made up but what drew his attention were her lips which were plump, shiny and smooth with gloss. This was emphasized when she blew a kiss to the audience, causing a chorus of animated shouts.
"Aya-chan, dance for us!"
"Aya-chan, sing for us!"
"STRIP, Aya-chan, STRIP!"
"Come home with me tonight, Aya-chan!"
"I wanna fuck you badly, Aya-chan!"
Gintoki watched, mesmerized, as she demurely stood and walked towards the audience. Her hips were swaying gently and seductively, making him feel a tug in his chest. He licked his lips. This was quite a show.
Her dress was loose and thin, teasing the viewers with her naked curves. Gintoki swore he saw a flash of nipple through the thin sheet and felt himself harden.
This was going to be a long night.
"Good evening, everyone!" She spoke into the microphone. "I'm Aya. Thanks for coming tonight." People were hysterically raving. "I have 4 songs and dances. They're new. I hope you enjoy!"
The crowd went wild as she repositioned a shoulder strap that slipped down, revealing a portion of her breast. Music started to play, introducing her first song and dance number.
Not for the first time that night, Gintoki found it an effort to breathe. His eyes took in the woman singing and swaying in front of him. She was different, he supposed and surely after five years, she was expected to be.
He examined her body, noticing the way she filled up from before. Her breasts were larger and rounder, probably up a cup size or two. He knew of their size by sneakily glancing at them on previous occasions. Breasts were an endless fascination to him, he constantly observed them and had even tasted a few. He had never touched hers though, but from his view, he could tell they were delectable.
Her waist was slim, followed by a sudden flare at her hips. He could see her creamy thighs connected with endless and shapely legs. Her damn dress was extremely short. He knew that the hem was only millimeters away from revealing her underwear. That is, if she was wearing any.
Her voice was smooth and melodic, sending tingles down his spine. It was never like that before. He remembered hating her constant screeching and shrill gushing over him but now her voice was startingly pleasant to his senses.
As for her body movements, they stirred a few butterflies in his stomach. She shifted shyly at first but soon gained quiet confidence. He realized why she attracted such rumors and attention with her dances.
Right now, he wanted to rip off her dress which barely clung to her and was allowing her breasts to move freely. Her mounds were bouncing lightly, gliding through the sheer fabric of her attire.
Gintoki pinched himself, punishing his thoughts away. Now was not the time to be thinking about this. This was not why he was here. He had to focus. Though he had to admit, it was proving to be very difficult.