a/n: Me looking at my outline to make sure there are no plot holes (or at least minimize big ones from happening) - this is troublesome. I don't even get 300 yen for it! lol

Hope you guys are still reading even without GinTsu smut to motivate you, lol. Big thank you to those who leave me such nice reviews (love ya pimmsy! I really appreciate you all!)

13. students

The clang of the bell meant it was time again to meet the Tendoshu Elders.

Dutifully, Oboro made his way to the ship where he was summoned. Like clockwork, the Elders would have a meeting every quarter of the year. As he stood patiently in the lift, the circle of Elders who had congregated wore their customary cloaks and hats, careful to not let their identity be divulged to outsiders. As far as Oboro could tell, they still considered him an outsider, despite the fact that the Naraku had worked with them for centuries.

The organization - which remained mostly nameless to the majority of the inhabitants living in the galaxy - were more or less the overlords of the universe. All of them were fairly old, depending on where they originated from, but the one thing they all had in common was the desire to live forever. Ironically, the one person that had managed to attain the impossible wished for the complete opposite.

Capturing Yoshida Shoyou had been one thing he'd failed to do until fairly recently, and Oboro was a double agent in that he'd purposely misled the Naraku as long as possible so that his former teacher would evade arrest. Unfortunately, it had backfired on him, even though he managed to evade suspicion this far. Burning the school of Shoka Sonjuku was something he sorely wished he could undo, even though it was true he had done far more heinous acts for the entire duration of his pitiable life.

"Oboro."

A voice from the head of the Elders rumbled low and deep, sending vibrations through the ship.

"Yes?"

"Status report on the Altana portals, please."

"Not much has changed since the last time we met," Oboro said. "With the help of our allies, we've managed to regain two of the most densely populated cities. The Shogun has agreed to build the Edo Terminal, which I believe will facilitate more opportunities for the Amanto to land their ships."

"Excellent work."

"In addition, things are running smoothly in Japan. The Shogun's seat will be passed from Tokugawa Sadasada to Tokugawa Shigeshige will take place in a week's time, and from all reports, it'll be a peaceful transfer."

"Mm. And what of those Jouishishi... savages?"

"They are of no trouble," Oboro said, his mouth set in a grim line.

"I heard rumors that the Shogun's palace was stormed by these... samurai."

"It was one samurai," the head of Naraku corrected, irritated by how quickly the rumors had flown around town. "No casualties as of yet - "

"Except for your own men," one of the Elders jeered. Oboro narrowed his eyes.

"Yes. But they were of no consequence," he said, waving his hand away. Being an assassin meant there were no bonds of comradeship nor friendship. If you died, that was that. Unless Utsurou happened to give you some of his immortal blood, but then again, that was a secret Oboro would take to his grave.

"Must've been a very strong samurai, then. You usually don't lose."

A crow had been the one to warn Oboro of the incident, and by the time he arrived at the Shogun's palace the perpetrators had left with nary a trace, save for a hairpin and an abandoned, torn kimono in the garden. They had traced it all the way to Yoshiwara, but no one could at the party could remember exactly who had worn it, and the courtesans at the red light district were careful to keep their mouths shut, only opening them to plead ignorance regarding the matter. The assistant of the lone courtesan who'd been entertaining the Shogun at the time had vanished into thin air, and though the courtesan in question had been thoroughly interrogated by the Bakufu, she could not remember what had happened as the bomb had thrown her memory into disarray.

The other perpetrator, on the other hand, was much easier to trace. A few strands of silvery, slightly curly hair dropped on the floor had been enough for Oboro to know exactly who was responsible for this attack - although it was also true that the loss of thirty Naraku soldiers was nothing to sneeze at, either.

Only the Shiroyasha, who had more strength than ten men at any given time, could have gotten away with such a serious transgression, especially in the enemy's territory. At this point he was a mythical legend, and to the minds of certain people, it was hard to believe that such a human existed. Of course, Shoyou's students would have posed as the Tenshoin Naraku's greatest foes, Oboro thought to himself, and chuckled at the irony of it all.

Now the Elders were muttering to each other now, and the head of the Naraku waited now for their latest verdict.

The head cleared his throat. "Well, all that aside, if Sadasada crushes the Jouishishi this year, it shouldn't be a problem. We're almost on the way there, am I correct?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Now to more important matters. We're still interested in Shoyou's blood."

Oboro sighed. He had tried explaining it over and over again, but they - whether through sheer obstinacy, or through stupidity, or even both - failed to understand it over and over again. "Yoshida Shoyou is ... not someone that can be eliminated. He is as equally strong as Utsurou, and his spirit refuses to bend. Believe me, I've tried."

Three years prior, he'd gotten a nasty scar on his chest for the one time he'd been pressured by the organization to take Shoyou's head in order to resurrect the former head of the Naraku. They hadn't asked him to do it again as it'd taken him three months to recover, and even that was only because he'd partaken in Altana blood. The rest of his men had been killed instantly. It was tough to beat a millennia of hard-earned battle instincts.

"But if you simply just took a sample - just drops, even - of his blood..."

"It doesn't work that way," Oboro said, frowning. "The blood has to be given willingly. Not to mention, no one's been able to land a single scratch on him yet."

"Not even one of your most promising up-and-coming assassins?"

"Mukuro?" Oboro was surprised to know that the Elders knew of her. "Gentlemen, surely I shouldn't have to explain that a nine year old girl - no matter how strong she is - isn't fit enough to tackle one of the most powerful beings in the universe."

"But then, how did you manage to capture him in the first place?"

Now this was a dangerous situation for him to delve into detail. "It was... more of an opportune situation."

"Then explain."

"He had a school. The Naraku made a deal with him that we would leave his students behind if we arrested him. Otherwise... " Oboro involuntarily shuddered at the memory. "It was much like transporting a caged lion, I suppose." Oboro had been fully prepared to die that day, knowing the true capabilities of his former teacher.

He'd known out of all the Naraku that Yoshida Shoyou contained the same amount of strength as Utsuro, and in a sense, shared the same emptiness. But in the case of Shoyou-sensei, he had the intelligence and fortitude to fill the empty void inside of him with the love of his students, borne out of the last shred of humanity left in his immortal body. When Oboro had been rescued by Shoyou that fateful day, he'd been struck by how incredibly kind the man was, especially for an assassin.

"Surely you could replicate the same situation," the head of Elders said.

"... Not possible," Oboro replied. "The times were different."

"So Shoyou may have saved a few students. Who is to say that his students wouldn't do the same for him; to die on his behalf?" The Elder grinned. "I'll replenish your troops, Oboro. I might even have some ideas of my own, you know."

His orders were absolute. "Yes, my lord."

-x-

The two of them were dressed in black, simple clothing for the purpose for disguising themselves in the dark of night. As soon as the Emperor's men were diverted to the west part of the city, Gintoki and Takasugi were busy, silently taking out the remaining security of the gates, trying to be as discreet as possible while paving a way to the military complex where a stockpile of weapons were held.

While Gintoki always tried his best to refrain from killing as much as he could, especially in guerrilla type fights such as tonight, Takasugi had no such reservations. In his mind, anyone who willingly chose to associate or ally with the Amanto were completely indefensible. They had taken Yoshida Shoyou away from him for the crime of being different from everyone else. But more importantly, they had burned down the school and had brutally massacred the innocent villagers that had been mostly unaware of Shoyou's existence during the Kansai Purge. And over the course of the war, one by one, his classmates had died until there were only the three of them left, standing on the battlefield.

He would not forgive the Bakufu as long as he lived. He had vowed that on his dying day, he would curse them to the ends of the earth.

At seventeen he'd shouldered the responsibility for the Kiheitai, knowing that there was slim chances that the last of the samurai would be able to overthrow the government, already seduced by the ways of the Amanto. Many had tried before him, and they had failed. In his opinion, however, that did not mean it was time to give up. On the contrary, this was a cause that he would see to the bitter end, for many lives had been sacrificed in the name of their honor, dignity, and perhaps the most important of all, their existence.

He did not care for the samurai. Like Gintoki, he was a good-for-nothing brat who simply knew how to fight, unafraid to get his hands dirty if it was to protect the people he loved. But Takasugi knew that Shoyou-sensei would have wanted them to fight for what was right. And he did not think what the Amanto did to the country was honorable, nor was it justified.

An eye for an eye makes the whole world go blind, Shoyou-sensei had quoted him once. A samurai should take care not to be consumed with vengeance.

Too bad he wasn't a real samurai, he thought ruefully to himself, as he ran his sword through the necks of the men charging straight at him and Gintoki. The black beast kept howling inside of him, only satiated every time he took the lives of the enemy.

-x-

"Gentlemen." Sakamoto greeted his men as they stood at attention, waiting on the top of a hill nearby the fort. His soldiers nodded in return, and proceeded to arm themselves.

Night vision goggles, he thought to himself, were a real beauty of an invention. Against the Bakufu's orders, he'd visit Edo's black market, pretending to be an idiot civilian, and bought up the whole lot of them; the vendor assuming that he'd been some sort of wildlife enthusiast who liked to watch birds at night. If only his folks could see this technology! Back when he was a boy in Tosa, he used to have dreams about doing something more than becoming a potato farmer. Who knew there was a world out there where he'd be taking down the government using Amanto contraptions?

Years ago, he'd practice day after day with a bow and arrow before he found out the existence of guns, right on the cusp of his adolescence. They were rare weapons, treasured and prized back then, for the nation of the time still lacked the manufacturing power to make more of them. Ever since then, Sakamoto had been - and still was, a man who enjoyed new gadgets, new toys, new technology. Even if they came from the Amanto, he didn't care.

He was here because he wanted to achieve great things. The three of them had sold him a beautiful dream at first; of fighting for the nation, for the spirit of the samurai, to save those who had risked it all before they had. Even Gintoki - as wonderfully, frightfully, perceptive as he was - was convinced that he was doing the right thing, even if in reality Sakamoto could see that he was taking on too much of the burden to where it was inevitable that the world would one day burn and crash around, and he wouldn't be able to stop it from happening.

With a steady grip, he shot down the Amanto with the precision of an eagle's eye, keeping a close watch on the men whose duty was to smuggle the Amanto weapons out of the military complex. When his bullets ran out, he refilled them with the ease of an experienced marksman, and pressed the trigger again, and again, until it was time for him to do it refill the cartridges once more.

The time for his last battle had come, and he would make it a memory worth remembering.

-x-

They called him the Rampaging Noble, for he was the most refined out of all the four of them. The Katsura clan had existed for generations, and yet he - the last, living son - had never quite fit in in the world where prestige equated with money, and so he had adopted mannerisms that he hoped would disguise that he was as lowly as the rest of the other students of Shoka Sonjuku. After all, what kind of samurai would admit that he was homeless of his own volition? He had hidden his insecurities behind a veneer of tradition only to find out that it was fine, after all, to be a samurai without an estate to call his own.

Fighting for the sake of the soul of the samurai was in his blood. His grandmother would have been proud to see that the bloodline was still alive, even if he had to be a coward sometimes, urging his comrades to escape if he found the battle unwinnable. They called him the general, for he was the one who proposed most of their offensives, mapping out their strategies. In addition, he held the thankless job of patching over the fights that happened every so often between Gintoki and Takasugi; two giants on the battlefield who competed against each other both consciously and unconsciously.

Takasugi had sneered at him once, for remaining soft and caring amidst the tragedy of a war, for it was Katsura who insisted on paying proper respects to the deceased even if there was not enough time to spare for such procedures. But that had never stopped him from at least closing their eyes, and to stick their swords on the ground as a makeshift grave in the meantime.

Be careful, he told Takasugi. One day you'll be haunted by the ghosts of the dead, too.

But he wasn't limited to respecting the dead, either. It was Katsura who made sure that Gintoki ate proper meals in between skirmishes, for he knew there was no war without a symbol, and more importantly, he believed it was his duty to take care of his friends. It was Katsura who made sure the men behaved appropriately in a way that would make Shoyou-sensei proud. The samurai might have been fighting a losing battle, but it would do no good to lose sight of their way if they acted as inappropriately as the barbarians that had invaded their nation. And as of recently, he had made sure all of them had memorized the layout of the building, before allowing a single soldier to even take a single step in Kyou.

He sealed the Altana holes by lighting up countless sticks of dynamite around them, letting the rubble and concrete crumble at his feet while he made sure his men escaped to safety. Lighting a green smoke signal, it was time for Sakamoto to lift up a bazooka, launching the final pièce de résistance courtesies of the Jouishishi. The explosion was felt by all the citizens that night.

-x-

Gintoki nodded to his men, who were busy packing up the weapons into box crates, and swiftly exiting the premises as quickly as they could. He would be the last one to leave, for there was no reason for anyone else to get hurt on a stealth mission. As the Amanto kept crawling into the doors, blocking their exit, Takasugi led the offense while Gintoki protected the soldiers from the back as if his life was on the line. After all, he had made a promise to someone, long ago.

Gintoki; our comrades - everyone, protect them, okay? I'm leaving things in your care.

He wanted to protect, symbol of the resistance be damned. And day by day, as the number of the remaining samurai who were ready to fight for the Cause slowly but surely depreciated, he knew he had ultimately failed at his duty when it had mattered the most. Sometimes he had dreams of standing on top of a pile of corpses, ghosts that haunted his subconscious since the day the school burned down.

When a monstrous Amanto approached his way, he had told his men to run.

"Puny samurai," it said, cracking its knuckles. "Today you will rue the day you fought against us - "

Gintoki simply slashed it in two, his eyes merely narrowed. He left a trail of blood behind him, taking care not to step on the dead, and before they left the complex he made sure to count heads of his own troops.

As the rest of them escaped the compound, he took out a signal flare, shooting red sparks into the night sky to tell the others that their mission had been accomplished.

-x-

Batou handed Tsukuyo the latest copy of a newspaper.

Strange, how the man (alien? she still hadn't asked him where he was from) was careful not to be intrusive. He had told her that his ability to tell the future and read peoples' thoughts was something he could turn on and off, but she wasn't sure if he was telling the truth. Either way, he hadn't been too creepy about it, choosing instead to be quiet in peace, which was the opposite of Shoukaku, who'd been eager to ask her soldiers questions about humans.

"Read the headline," he said quietly. She scanned the newspaper, reading of the latest Joui exploits.

They had won.

Struggling to keep her face neutral, she handed it back it to Batou. "Thank you," she said.

"That monkey took down ten of those Tendoshuu lurking around Lady Kamekichi's teashop with his stick," he replied mildly. "So I figured this would be my contribution."

What, was it now an open secret that everyone knew she was connected to the Shiroyasha?! She scowled.

"Not everyone knows," Batou reassured her, although he was smirking a bit.

"Stop reading my mind," she said, her scowl running even deeper.

"I apologize. Would you like me to tell your future?" he asked courteously. "In order to make up for my intrusion, I mean."

"No, that's fine." She shook her head. "I'd rather not know if something bad happens to him - " and at this, she waved her hand, although her heart constricted at the thought. "It's best not to tempt fate, anyways. I might do something to change accidentally what was meant to happen."

"A wise choice," he said. Then, tilting his head a bit, he added, "I've fought him before. Three years ago, at the battle of Shimonoseki. I was hired to take out a platoon."

At her look of shock, he nodded. "He's really strong, you know. So you shouldn't worry about him too much."

Part of her wanted to ask him a flurry of questions. Part of her didn't want to know anything. Tsukuyo was aware that she really didn't know Gintoki all that well; apart from his reputation, the rest of her knowledge came from the smaller, more intimate moments that came fleetingly from letters or the conversations that they had in person. She knew he was the symbol for the resistance, but it seemed woefully irrelevant to what he done for her.

Batou paused, collecting his thoughts together. "You're a shinobi, aren't you?" At that, she nodded.

"The samurai won't understand people like you. Working from the shadows, hired assassins with no loyalty. Shoukaku and I are very much like that. We like to fight, and so we are happy to be shipped to the battleground, but we don't have alliances like the samurai do. What the samurai don't understand is that none of this is personal for us. We don't have a nation, or country to motivate us."

"... What about your planet?"

He chuckled darkly, and she felt a chill come over her, like the first time she'd met him. "There is no place for us to go home to. That is why we are on these ships."

"But... " Her voice trailed uselessly, not knowing what to say to that.

"Once upon a time, I had a planet to return to, not that different from this one."

They were standing at the rebuilt Sun Tower, where Hinowa had been trapped so long ago, the moon full and bright. She waited, knowing that the story would not be a happy one.

"It was destroyed after it was completely stripped of its Altana." Batou paused, still calm and collected, but his fist was gripped tightly. "The person who wreaked havoc on my planet vanished into thin air, and to this day, we still don't know who did it."

He turned around. "If we cannot see our enemies, then we simply channel our rage to whoever is closest. For that reason, I envy the samurai. Maybe they are fighting a losing battle. But at least they know who they are fighting against."

-x-

It'd been so long since they'd actually succeeded at a mission with so little casualties that they were at a loss of how to react once everything had been said and done. But one of the soldiers had been prescient enough to roll out a barrel of sake from a brewery, right before they finished the last smuggling of Altana weapons from the fort.

With their tin cups, they'd gone to town - except for Tatsuma, who'd partaken only one cup at best, for he wished to keep his wits with him for tonight.

He joined Gintoki at the rooftop of a temple, who was surprisingly sober for the unusual circumstances of today. The stars had come out in their full-bodied, celestial beauty tonight, and for while neither of them spoke, preferring to look at the night sky instead.

"So tonight's the night?" Gintoki asked.

"Yes," Sakamoto had said simply. Below them, they could see Katsura and Takasugi singing odes to some god, clearly inebriated.

The moonlight softened everything. For once, there had been a beautiful moment of hope, once every man had returned, perhaps with a few scratches, but blissfully, painfully alive. Sakamoto had looked at Gintoki then, every bit as human and infallible as the rest of them.

"You should come with me."

Gintoki smiled. "I'm not a spacehead like you," he said. "I find Earth enough for me. But you... you better scoop a star or two for me, ya hear?"

-x-

"Mukuro."

"Oboro-sama," she said, nodding her head in an expressionless way. She was waiting outside of the prison where Yoshida Shoyou was held, as it was his turn to guard the complex, and handed him the keys to the cell.

"What did he teach you today?"

"Emotions," she reported. "Did you know that people can be happy sometimes?"

Oboro smiled. "I did, actually."

Keys transferred, he opened the doors while Mukuro headed off to the bunks for a quick nap before her next mission. He walked past the other prisoners; they were of no concern to him, and would be executed soon. But there was one prisoner he was intent on checking up on, before he stood on guard for the rest of the day.

At the sounds of his approaching steps, the man in question had turned his head, rising to stand as his former student walked towards him.

"Good morning, Oboro," he said, smiling.

He smiled back. "Morning to you too, sensei."

-x-

- tbc -

-x-

a/n: Thank you for reading, it means a lot to me.

I have recently been reading a lot of Joui-centric fics (some of them written before the SA arc was released) and what struck me about a lot of them is that authors often depict the samurai as somewhat incompetent due to trauma during wartime. My personal take is that they have been at war for 20 years. So for them to hold out that long against the Amanto is impressive. I decided to write the Joui 4 as a very well-oiled machine, with them knowing their individual roles in war very well and working together in synergy. It's not that they aren't traumatized, in fact, all of them are very traumatized for sure! But I do think that the reason why their reputation is super well-known in the canon timeline ten years after the war ended is because they were badass - like even more badass than their current versions of themselves in the modern era of Gintama.

As always, please feel free to leave feedback, I always read them and they motivate me to keep writing. Thanks very much for going on this ride with me.