Being a wig is nothing to be ashamed of

-0-

It was possible that Katsura had the longest hair among all of the Jouishishi patriots. Long, black silky hair which the man took great pride in and tried his uttermost best to keep tidy and clean. Sometimes he wore it down, sometimes he tied it in a loose ponytail. He tried to wash it as much as he could, and from previous experiences he had discovered that blood, particularly Amanto blood, was a real pain in the ass to get from his hair and often left it smelling of crap. On windy days, he proved to be quite the sight. His hair would go everywhere. In his eyes, in his face, in other people's faces, and even in Sakamoto's mouth because the damn idiot always had it open.

Katsura Kotarou had lots of hair.

It was a light restless evening when he was told that two of his comrades had been badly injured.

When he walked into the small temple room that served as their makeshift infirmary, he was able to see two familiar figures positioned on the floor on mats. To say the least, he wasn't surprised at all to see who they were. As he carefully made his way across the room, taking care as to not step on any other injured patriots, his footsteps alerted Takasugi of his presence and one of his eyes flickered open. Gintoki however, didn't move. The silver-haired solider had both eyes closed and was taking full advantage of the situation, catching up on some sleep. Sakamoto greeted him with a small wave and looked up at him from where he was sitting beside Gintoki's mat on the floor.

Takasugi and Gintoki had once again managed to find a way to get absolutely battered in the space of a day.

Takasugi was lacking his signature coat and his grey vest, his bare top half covered in bandages stained with blood. Two sharp green pupils greeted Katsura as he looked down at him. Though they were open, it was evident that the man wasn't yet fully awake. His eyes were dull, and the slow, heavy breaths he took were weighed down with fatigue and blood loss. Dried blood coated his tanned complexion, drops of crusty liquid plastered to his neck and his collarbone. Parts of his trousers had been ripped, and one of his hands was bandaged, the fingerless gloves he usually donned tossed aside on the floor and in tatters.

This is what Takasugi got for refusing to wear chest armour. Katsura remembered lecturing him about how it put his life in danger, only to be met with the response of 'It will only weigh me down. My life is in more danger if I can't move quick enough, Zura. I'll be careful. While you're getting a drink, chuck me a Yakult.'

Careful my ass Katsura thought bitterly. He bit his lip at the sight of the wounded Takasugi infront of him, angry at himself that he didn't push Takasugi more to wear armour. And when did this happen? He clenched a fist. Why wasn't I there to protect them?

The man turned his attention to Gintoki. The Shiroyasha had been stripped of his demonic appearance. His white haori jacket, on the floor beside his mat, was white no more. The man's chest had been bandaged too, and the material wrapped around his torso had been dyed a dark shade of crimson. His breaths were slow; almost too slow. Katsura had to stare at him for a while to convince himself that his friend was actually breathing. The slight rise and fall of his chest was reassuring, though also worrying at the same time.

It was scary. Scary how war could turn even the strongest of soldiers into...this.

For Katsura, it was certainly overwhelming. He'd seen Gintoki and Takasugi injured before, but it was mostly just them returning to camp with a few cuts and bruises.

The two samurai at his feet looked broken.

"Zura."

It was Sakamoto.

Katsura blinked and turned to face Tatsuma, his eyes devoid of emotion.

His comrade patted the space next to him on the floor. He didn't laugh. God help them all, he didn't even smile. "Come sit."

And that was all that it took for Katsura to wordlessly join Sakamoto on the floor beside Gintoki's mat.

They sat in silence. Takasugi had closed his eyes and Gintoki continued to breathe quietly. Katsura lowered his gaze, unable to look at his two friends without guilt scratching at his gut.

Sakamoto gazed at the two.

"They were asking for you." He said simply.

Katsura's head flickered up and he blinked at Sakamoto. The man continued to speak.

"When they woke up and you weren't here, they wouldn't stop asking about you." Tatsuma met Katsura's eyes and the man smiled as he continued. "Is Zura okay? Where's Zura? Get Zura, bring him here."

Katsura looked back towards Takasugi and Gintoki, before looking down at the floor and playing with his fingers. "S'not Zura, it's Katsura."

Sakamoto chuckled softly. "I'll tell you Zura, ya got some good pals here."

Katsura bit his lip and refused to look up.

"...and I wasn't there to protect them."

Sakamoto's gaze softened. The man softly punched the long-haired samurai's arm, trying to reassure him. Even so, Katsura still didn't look up.

"You can't be everywhere at once, Zura."

Katsura's patrol had been elsewhere defending the base when the group Takasugi and Gintoki were in had been ordered to patrol the woods. It was only when he returned to base that he was informed that the enemy had also been at the woods at the time, and had outnumbered the rebels greatly. When he returned to camp he had been starving, but now he couldn't even remember what it felt like to be hungry. He realized that he couldn't and wouldn't always be there to protect his friends, and that angered him to no end. He trusted their skills, but neither Takasugi nor Gintoki were immortal.

The overwhelming and heavy reality was that they faced the danger of dying everyday.

But when the soldiers returned from fighting in the evening, they idly chatted of what they were having for supper and joked over the fire about things that didn't even matter. Talking and dreaming about the future was a luxury they no longer had access to because the future was only a possibility. Soldiers gathered around burning logs and poured bottles of sake, smiling and laughing about the present. They could confidently talk about that, because the present, and everyone and everything else there, was not going anywhere in that point in time.

This was something that Katsura had discovered over time. And from time to time, they were allowed to fantasize about the future and all the possibilities that waited when, if, they soldiered through this war.

Katsura was just grateful that his comrades would live to share another bottle of alcohol around the fire.

Sakamoto was right, he couldn't be everywhere at once. And that was something that he just had to accept.

"They'll be okay, won't they?" He finally looked up.

Sakamoto grinned stupidly.

Katsura relaxed.

"I'll get you a drink, Zura." Sakamoto rose to his feet. "How does Yakult sound?"

"Takasugi's Yakult...?"

"He won't mind."

"I'm okay thanks. I value my life."

Sakamoto had already begun to make his way across the room.

"Just make sure he doesn't wake up, eh Zura?" His reply was thrown lazily over his shoulder and he was out of the door before Katsura could shout a response.

"It's not Zura, it's Katsura!" Katsura sighed irritably and rubbed his face with his hand. He sat in silence for a few minutes, and his head flickered up abruptly when he felt something tug at his hair.

"Oi oi...some of us are tryin' to sleep here, bastards..." Katsura looked down at Gintoki who was wide awake. The man was sitting up on his mat and his bloody hands were trying to plait Katsura's hair. Katsura blinked.

"You're not supposed to be awake!" He fretted, reaching out to ease Gintoki back onto his back, trying to push him down by his shoulders. Gintoki remained where he was and before Katsura could wrestle him back onto the futon, he felt someone else tug at the other side of his hair.

"Calm it, Zura." Katsura spun around to face a sleepy Takasugi who was also plaiting his hair. And it was then that Katsura realized that he couldn't see another injured soldier next to Gintoki's mat; both of them were sitting either side of him, plaiting his hair like school girls.

"Since we already look fucked up..." Gintoki motioned to his bloody clothing and the cuts that ran up his arms. "...we might aswell drag you down with us, ne Takasugi?"

Takasugi smirked sharply despite looking so worn out, and his eyes shone. "Don't worry, Zura." he murmured. "We'll make you look great."

Katsura was speechless for a second, and when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out. He looked at Gintoki, then blinked at Takasugi, watching their focused expressions and the way their fingers carefully handled his hair so they didn't tug too hard and hurt him. Gintoki's big hands looked out of place and his fingers fumbled, the man sticking his tongue out so he could concentrate. Takasugi's hands were gentle and he was more precise, working slowly and neatly. Katsura had to admit, he found that watching them was stupidly funny, and he didn't notice that he was smiling until Gintoki gave him a funny look.

Katsura found the whole thing surprisingly soothing. Whether it was down to the feeling of people plaiting his hair, or whether it was the fact that his friends were okay, he didn't know. Either way he didn't care. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so relaxed.

Gintoki blinked up at Katsura. "What's with the retarded expression, Zura? You just pissed yourself?"

Takasugi scoffed as he continued to plait Katsura's hair. "It's called smiling, perm-breath. Is he not allowed to smile without being accused of pissing himself?"

"Ooh, Takasugi-kun is awfully protective of Zura today~"

Katsura smiled even more, and his smile turned into a chuckle. He didn't really know why he was laughing, but it felt really good to just laugh and to smile.

Takasugi scowled at Gintoki. "Shut the f-"

"Ooh! This looks fun! Mind if I join?"

Sakamoto wandered over to the three with four bottles of Yakult in his hands, and plopped down next to Takasugi. Takasugi stopped to glare at him when he saw the bottles but said nothing, allowing Sakamoto to hand out the drinks among them. Sakamoto downed his drink and placed the bottle aside, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and grinning stupidly. He picked out three locks of Katsura's hair and began to mimic Gintoki and Takasugi.

"Are we giving Zura a makeover?

"Something like that." Gintoki finished the hair he was plaiting and picked out three more locks to do another one. He stopped briefly to take a few gulps of Yakult, purposely looking in Takasugi's direction as he did so. Takasugi pulled a face.

Katsura turned around to blink at Sakamoto who looked almost as funny as Gintoki did when he tried to concentrate. His fingers weren't designed to handle delicate things; his hands were meant to wield blades and handle the wheel of a ship.

Takasugi and Gintoki looked oddly natural plaiting his hair. That was probably down to the fact that they had done it as kids. Even so it must have looked really odd; three men who only earlier that morning would have been slaughtering aliens, were drinking Yakult and plaiting hair.

Katsura suddenly winced when he felt someone tug too hard.

"Haha, whoops. Sorry Zura." It was Tatsuma.

"You're doing it all wrong," It was Takasugi who spoke next. "You need to be more gentle."

"That's what she said." Gintoki butted in with a dirty joke, and Takasugi scoffed his disgust while Sakamoto laughed and tugged at Katsura's hair again.

Katsura grunted.

Gintoki finished plaiting and budged closer to Sakamoto. "C'mere retard..." he picked out three more locks of Katsura's hair and began to demonstrate how to plait it. "You put this one over this one, see? And when you do it, you don't pull it too hard..." Gintoki began to slowly plait while Sakamoto watched. "...Otherwise his wig will fall off, ya know?"

"Haha, I get ya Kintoki! Also, I didn't know you wore a wig, Zura."

Katsura didn't look particularly impressed. "I don't wear I wig!"

Gintoki shuffled back to his own spot. "Ah, Tatsuma. I got mixed up for a moment there. Zura is a wig."

"Haha, I see what you did there!"

"Also it's Gintoki, you little shit-stain. Call me that again and I'll have to use the wig to clean up the blood I'm going to spill."

"It's not wig, it's Katsura!" Katsura waved his hands about dramatically. "And no one is going to mistreat wigs!"

Gintoki leaned closer to Sakamoto. "See, Tatsuma. That's it right there. He's defending his own kind. He must be one of them!"

Takasugi suddenly stopped what he was doing.

"What the absolute fuck are you all on about?"

Katsura sighed. "They're just being idiots..." He muttered.

"We're not going to judge you because of what you are, Zura." Gintoki had completely lost interest in plaiting Katsura's hair and had decided that his finger would be better off up his nose. "I mean, Takasugi's obviously gay but we treat him like we treat everyone else."

Takasugi scoffed. "So you treat everyone else like shit? Is that what you're saying?"

"I like how you didn't deny being gay."

Takasugi reached over to try and hit Gintoki round the head. "I'm not gay you idiot!"

"And I'm not a wig!"

"Hey, who's up for a game of cards?"

"SHUT UP TATSUMA."

Gintoki had pulled his finger from his nose and had returned to lazily plaiting Katsura's hair. As soon as he did this, Katsura stiffened.

"Gintoki, you've just been picking your nose, haven't you?"

"...No."

"He's lying, Zura." Takasugi commented disgustedly. "His nose is bleeding."

Gintoki pressed a finger to his nose and blinked down at the blood on his hand. "It's not blood." He replied simply, looking up at Takasugi.

"If it's not blood, what is it then?" Takasugi dead-panned.

"It's the fiery liquid of my soul."

The room went silent. Takasugi wasn't sure what to say, so for a few moments he didn't say anything.

"...Just don't let him touch you Zura."

"Okay." Katsura nodded his head firmly and shuffled away from Gintoki.

"Oi?! Why are you listening to the midget?!" Gintoki screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Takasugi. "You can never trust short people, y'know!"

"He doesn't want your dirty soul in his hair, idiot!"

"Who's soul are you calling dirty, bastard?!"

"Haha, calm down Kinkto-"

"SHUT UP TATSUMA."

Katsura shook his head. For some strange reason, he allowed Gintoki to resume in plaiting his hair. However, it didn't last for long. After a few minutes he felt a heavy weight on his shoulder and noticed that Gintoki had fallen asleep on him. The man had his face smushed against his shoulder and was snoring loudly. Takasugi wasn't far behind him either; his head was bobbing up and down as he tried to stay awake and his eyes were half open.

Sakamoto thought that this was hilarious and Katsura had to shove a hand over his mouth so his irritating laugh wouldn't wake both of them up.

Tatsuma helped Katsura ease them both back onto their futons and Katsura was free to drink his bottle of Yakult.

"I'm going to have so many knots in my hair in the morning, aren't I?" He murmured to Sakamoto when he had finished his drink.

Sakamoto simply grinned.

Katsura smiled.

-0-

Katsura Kotarou had lots of hair.

His friends liked to plait it.

And he let them.


Yay! I actually did something with my life and updated! I just want to say that the reason for the late update is down to pure laziness and the fact that I had absolutely no ideas regarding what to write. Sorry for taking so long. I'm a really lazy person. I think what motivated me to actually finish this chapter was the fact that over the past few weeks people have been favouriting and following the story :)

For all you peeps out there who don't already know what 'zura' means in Japanese, it literally means 'wig'. Hence the wig jokes.

Also, I'd like to thank RavenousYetMysterious for the inspiration for this chapter. You've been so friendly and helpful; the good ideas just don't stop coming! Thanks :)

Also thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, followed or whatnot; it means a lot and reviews motivate me a lot!

Thanks for reading :)