a/n: Thank you all for continuing to read!
At the best of times, Tobita Danzou was a brooding type of man, and at the worst of times, he was cruel with a precise vindictiveness that would have only been recognized by the victim when it was too late for them to do anything about it.
Tsukuyo had met him exactly once in her life, and had understood nothing about him until she began to live in the ninja village. A victim until the end, he had felt the only way he could atone for his sins was by serving the clan that had saved his sister from a certain demise.
Decades ago, the former head of the Oniwabanshu was on a mission to eradicate the clan that had previously employed Danzou - a matter of two birds, one stone. For years there had been threats of invasion from the neighboring province of Shiranui. That he had stumbled across Tobita, forced against his will to serve a lord that had eliminated all members of his family, had been an unintentional coincidence.
The head had rescued him and his sister from forced bondage - for a price.
Loyalty.
In exchange for her safety in the village, he had sworn an oath on his life that he would now serve one of the oldest clans in Shiranui.
And though he was widely considered one of the strongest shinobi to exist, he had agreed, for the sake of his last living relative.
His duty now was considered far less dangerous than what he had previously been doing. Law enforcement was a far cry from sneaking into forbidden castles and sabotaging the enemy's line of defense.
But for some reason, Danzou - now known as Jiraia the Spider - had remained faithful to the position for more than a decade. For a while there had been some suspicions that he would ursurp the leadership of the clan he had served, but to everyone's relief, no such thing had happened.
As long as his sister was alive, that had been enough for him. It was, Tsukuyo supposed, a far better alternative then continuing to serve a lord that had been responsible for committing mass genocide against your family.
She waited patiently, as one of the guards was fetching the head of the Hyakka.
A few minutes passed, and then a dark, shadowy figure appeared out of nowhere. However, Tsukuyo had lived in a land of ninjas for some time, and barely reacted to his sudden appearance.
The hard look in his eyes told her that he recognized her. An excellent watchdog of a city always remembered the faces of those who came in and out of the gates, and she met his gaze in full measure without a trance of intimidation.
The last six years had worn away at whatever handsomeness had once existed there before. His face looked rough - a wan expression stretched too tight after seeing horrors that should have never existed in the first place.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Jiraia greeted her, a hint of curiosity gracing his features.
He remembered her.
"My master sent me here on a job," Tsukuyo said quietly, and passed him a scroll, sealed in wax with the crest of the Rappa clan.
His eyes widened momentarily, before taking it from her hands.
As he unfurled it, he read through the contents rapidly, before nodding. "I expected as much. Come with me."
-x-
The headquarters of the paramilitary troops that guarded the red light district was a secret kept to the very few, even to the longer-serving courtesans of Yoshiwara.
Tsukuyo memorized the pathways all the same - as was her habit - and when Jiraia finally stopped in the middle of the tightly knit maze of teashops and backdoor alley establishments, she was amazed when he slid open a door to a dojo.
"Where I train my subordinates," he explained gruffly, before he pointed to a nearby low table and cushions. "Sit. You must be tired."
She was, but only sat down in response, taking off her tea basket and placing it next to her within arms' reach. Jiraia disappeared momentarily before reappearing in front of her with a bowl of cold rice and a tea kettle.
He poured the lukewarm tea over the rice, and pushed the dish towards her. "Eat."
Not one to turn down a meal, Tsukuyo gave her thanks and lifted the bowl to her mouth, finding it surprisingly delicious. He had added slices of salted fish and preserved pickles at the bottom of the dish, and she could even taste the slight hint of dashi broth mixed in with the tea.
White rice was rarely eaten in the village. Most of the times, it was barley or millet that served as everyday staples; it was considered a sign of wealth if you were lucky enough to eat white rice on a regular basis. Even a simple meal such as the ochazuke she partook in at the moment was considered rather extravagant for a normal day.
"Edo-ites have their preferences," Jiraia commented dryly. He waited until she finished eating, setting her chopsticks neatly at the top of her cleaned bowl.
He took the set away immediately as she gave thanks once again for the food, disappearing once more for a minute before coming back to the room.
The kettle had been boiling now, and he poured her some tea.
"So. I've heard that you've sacrificed yourself for the war."
"Shishou told me the offer was legitimate."
"From what I understand, it is." Jiraia looked at her carefully, judging her physique. "The Oniwaban will expect reports as soon as you meet the liaison. But of course, you can't exactly visit the individual at the front gate of Edo Castle."
She nodded. "What do you know about it?"
"Enough to know that you're wading in dangerous waters. The Hattoris won't sacrifice one of their own for it, but I was surprised to hear you'd taken the offer. The Bakufu will compensate you rather well if you remain alive for longer than six months - and of course, if the intelligence is proven to be of high quality."
Tsukuyo swallowed. "It's not about the money."
Jiraia snorted. "Please don't tell me you actually believe in what the government is saying."
"I don't," she replied. Immediately, she felt foolish - a feeling that had always burned inside of her, especially when she spoke in front of veteran shinobi, delivering her mission reports. "But I don't think the way they're going about things - the Amanto, that is - will suddenly accept us humans as part of their agenda to collect as much Altana as they can."
"You realize that the structure of society as we know it now already looks down upon us ninja."
"That's no excuse to turn our backs on humanity," Tsukuyo retorted. "I made a vow to serve my master in order to protect the ones living here, in this very city. The opportunity that you bestowed on me, if you remember."
Jiraia did not deign to reply, his expression still impassive. He had made no apologies for his own positions on the war. "I suppose you'll want to know how she's doing."
Tsukuyo lowered her eyes. "I'll find out soon enough."
"In any case, you'll be a servant for Lady Oryou," Jiraia said. "I hope you remember what the scope of your duty entails."
If she remembered correctly, such a position would involve quite a lot of menial work. Not that Tsukuyo especially minded - her master's training was far more grueling than whatever punishment the okiya would drum up.
She'd been there, done that - and then some.
"You'll stay here tonight, and - "
There was a short rapping at the door, and Jiraia stood up abruptly. "Hide," he said urgently, lifting one of the tatami mats to reveal a secret passage. In a flash, Tsukuyo did so, disappearing into the floor before she was shrouded in complete darkness. Underneath, she could smell the faint hint of gunpowder and metal, lurking within the hidden room.
Jiraia's footsteps disappeared into the distance, and Tsukuyo let her eyes settle in the darkness, wondering who the guest might have been.
Of course a shinobi like him would still insist on hidden passages being built into the structure of a house, even in a city like Edo. Although its protection had been well established by now, the history of war had never quite left his bones. Perhaps with the iminent threat of the enemy, he was mentally preparing himself for what lay ahead of them.
Whatever the true cause was, it had hardened him into stone. Even if they were diametrically the opposites in temperament, Tsukuyo still had enough compassion to feel sorry for him.
After a while, his footsteps came back and he lifted the tatami mat again.
"It was one of my subordinates, but I still wouldn't want you to blow your cover so soon. You're safe now."
Tsukuyo pulled herself out of the hole, and he replaced the flooring into its proper place, making sure it fit well. In a matter of seconds, it had become imperceptible to the naked eye.
His expression was curiously blank as he straightened up. Turning to her, his voice was bland.
"The clan knows that you're here; they've sent a message to the target already. He wants to see you - tonight."
-x-
At the hour of the tiger, barely no one was awake to witness the two ninjas climbing out of a nearby window, gracefully leaping onto the horizon. They jumped from rooftop to rooftop, their feet barely skimming the tiles of the surface with only the moonlight to guide their way.
There was always that hint of danger, lurking around at this time of night.
Tsukuyo's heart was beating with the spikes of adrenaline, despite her desperate attempts to calm herself down.
Jiraia had led her to the ports of the Sumida river. It was still too early for the fishermen to take out their boats, and at this point even the brigade who looked out for fires during the evenings would be patrolling elsewhere, far from the bodies of water.
Eerily empty, Jiraia stopped abruptly once they had reached an abandoned looking jetty, with a few decrepit boats that lined the wooden deck.
She doubted anyone would have set foot in such places in a long time. The target must have done his research well.
Jiraia handed her a modified lantern - a gando - that was unlit. The candle inside was firmly clamped by a ring that made it mostly impervious to the flame blowing out, even if the owner swung it in every direction.
"Light it for thirty seconds, and have it flash to the sky for several intervals before blowing it out," Jiraia instructed. "The target will arrive very soon."
"Are you staying?" Tsukuyo asked.
"No." Jiraia looked at her with a hint of - something. She couldn't tell what it was. "You were instructed to survive this encounter. That's all."
And without another word, he vanished.
Feeling viscerally abandoned, Tsukuyo swallowed.
It wouldn't matter if she was armed to the teeth, with enough kunai in every sleeve and pocket to slaughter a whole squadron of soldiers. Whoever was coming was capable of causing immense fear in men more experienced in battle than she was.
Even though she had planned, and thought carefully about what she would say for days...
It could all go up in smoke if she made a misstep.
She took out a box of matchsticks, and struck the matches against the side, lighting the short candle inside of the gando. True to Jiraia's instructions, she let it shine for half a minute, counting the seconds down while flicking the front door of the lantern to make it flash off and on.
Once she reached zero, she finally closed the lantern, allowing the lack of oxygen to slowly snuff out the flame inside.
She waited, the only sounds left to keep her company were the steady splashes of water hitting the wooden docks underneath her feet.
And then -
There was a sound to the left of her. If every part of her hadn't been anticipating it, she would have almost missed it.
A shadowy figure, cloaked in black, had appeared.
Tsukuyo tensed, forcing herself to take measured breaths. It wouldn't do any good to show fear. Her index and thumb still shook slightly; the strings connected to her puppets were sensitive to her every movement, ready for action.
Breathe, she thought.
The figure wore a long hat, obscuring his face, and his hand gripped a golden staff with a circular ring at the end. His robes were pitch black, tied with white strips of fabric around his shoulders. A crow rested on top of his staff, quiet - with its eyes peering at Tsukuyo, as if she was an unfamiliar guest to their liaison.
His hand lifted to take off his hat, and once it was removed, Tsukuyo bit her lip to keep herself from gasping.
In the moonlight, his hair shone like molten silver. She had instantly recognized who it was.
Standing no more than a meter away from her was the one and only Shiroyasha.
His red eyes were sharp and cruel, and looked upon her with a strange curiosity. Taller than her, his shoulders were broad, and his body was relaxed as he took in her features.
There was an element of ruthlessness in him.
If a demon of war existed, it would take the shape of Sakata Gintoki.
This was the man who had killed thousands before her. Had, and would, put her own numbers to shame. As she stared at him, Tsukuyo wondered if she was moment's away from certain death.
There were no other witnesses - or rescuers - to be help her here if he decided to murder her in cold blood.
He couldn't be more than twenty five, she estimated. He seemed to be surprisingly young.
A curl of amusement flashed across his features as he registered her expression of astonishment.
"The Oniwabanshuu told me they'd be sending their best, but I didn't expect a woman to show up."
His voice was goading her into a reaction. He obviously didn't feel like he had anything to lose, clearly at ease with the situation.
Tsukuyo didn't rise to the bait. Her anxiety had gotten the better of her minutes ago, but now she had forced herself to push ahead.
She would not fail her master.
You were instructed to survive this encounter. That's all.
Instead, she swallowed. And said, "Sakata Gintoki. I've been informed that you want to help the Jouishishi."
He nodded. "Are you alone?"
"Yes."
He lifted his staff and the crow flew away.
"Have you read the terms and conditions?"
"Yes. A lifetime pardon in exchange for information."
"Keep in mind that even if the Bakufu decided to renege on our deal, I'd be able to kill them all anyway," Gintoki said conversationally, as if he was talking about the weather. "So really, it doesn't matter."
"So why make a deal in the first place?" she asked.
That seemed to throw him off, but only momentarily. "Because I don't care about the war," he replied. "All the same, your side is losing people at a pace where it's getting predictable. So - here I am."
He was lying, Tsukuyo realized.
She wasn't sure where this certainty had come from. But surely the answer wasn't as simple as that. It couldn't be.
"So this is a game to you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm. "While thousands are dying and villages are being pillaged, left and right - you're here, risking it all because it's... boring?"
He seemed entertained at her accusation, rather than to grow offended. "I don't think you have a leg to stand on, do you? Aren't you shinobi the ones who hold no loyalty to anyone - just to the person who'll hire you for your skills?"
"Some of us do," Tsukuyo retorted. "The Oniwaban's duty has been - "
"To protect and serve the Shogun. I know. Believe me, I know more than you think." Gintoki's canines flashed in the dark; he was laughing. "But yes - I'm here because it's boring."
A measure of revulsion crept up in her throat.
She already hated him.
Enough people had looked down upon her for not being ruthless enough. Not deadly enough.
But there'd always been a reason for her line of thinking.
She didn't have to kill everyone to acheive her mission. For her, it wasn't necessary to be gratuitous or to do things rashly in the heat of the moment; her speciality was to get the job done without making too much of a fuss. She could incapacitate momentarily, rather than to take away another life.
That she was associating with one of the nation's worst murderers meant that she wouldn't have much, if any, in common with him.
Tsukuyo banished those thoughts once again from her mind, and then took another breath. She wasn't here to debate ethics with him.
"Fine. What's your collateral?"
"My collateral? Isn't the information enough?"
"If the information is faulty - or if it's a trap - "
"I don't think you'd come here in the first place if you thought it would be faulty." Now Gintoki frowned. "Isn't my identity enough collateral as it is? I could have hidden it, but, well - too much of a bother to do in the long term anyway."
So he was interested in collaborating for the long run. Interesting.
But it still obscured his motivations for passing on intelligence.
"No one will believe me even if I said it was you meeting me in secret," Tsukuyo pointed out. "You don't leave people - well, alive."
He snorted. "I see the legends have preceded my reputation. That's not true, and even if it was, that would get really boring for me as well. I'm much more than that, even if it happens to be my specialty."
A murderer asking to be recognized more than his reputation as a murderer. She would've laughed, if she wasn't standing in front of him.
"But if you want me to swear on something that I hold dear, I'll take an blood oath on my master's life."
"That won't be necessary - "
"In return, you'll tell me your real name." Gintoki's eyes were calculating. "And yes, I'll be able to tell if you're telling the truth."
She didn't question him on his methods. The iminent threat of death loomed around her like an incoming shroud.
Your first objective is... survival. I won't let you die for this country on a whim.
If telling the truth aided her survival, then she would do it.
A name for a name. At least the bargain was a fair one.
"It's Tsukuyo," she said. "It uses the kanji for - "
"Tsukuyomi? The moon goddess?"
She nodded.
"I see. Unconventional choice for a name. Very well, then - I won't go back on my word. Give me one of your kunais."
"What?"
"Give me one of your kunais. Or swords - I'm not picky. Poison won't affect me, you know."
Tsukuyo narrowed her eyes. Handing a weapon to the enemy sounded like a trap.
Maybe it was.
"I'll throw it to you," she said cautiously. They were still standing a meter apart. It'd be enough distance for her to make a quick escape if he turned suddenly hostile.
"All right," he agreed, and she took a step back, lobbing one of her kunais without taking an eye away from him.
He caught it easily by the handle, and then carefully made a small incision in the palm of his hand.
"Your turn," he said, showing his bleeding palm. The blood trickled a bright red.
She nodded, and took out a smaller dagger from her waist, pinpricking her finger so that a drop of blood bloomed on the tip of her index.
Gintoki took out a small wooden board. "I was going to save this for other purposes, but it'll do nicely for now."
He drew the first character of her name using the blood from his palm with his finger. Then he handed it to her, and she finished writing the rest of her name with her index.
When the blood had dried, he snapped the wooden board in half, handing one of them to her.
In other words, he had constructed a makeshift warifu. It was a simple, but elegant way to verify their identities the next time they met, as they were the only ones who possessed the other half. That it also served as a physical record of their blood oath was... oddly convenient.
She took one half, slipping it under the first layer of her kimono. He took the other half, and tucked it beneath his robes. Then he took something else out - a scroll of something. Handing it to her, Tsukuyo raised her eyebrows as her hands took it with trepidation.
"The blueprints for Nagasaki port," Gintoki explained. "There's a blockade going down there at the moment. I'm trusting the Jouishishi will have enough common sense not to use all of the intelligence at once."
She nodded. "This will be useful."
"Good," he said. Suddenly the crow that had left his staff a while ago had flown in, resting now on his shoulder. "Meet me here next week, at the same exact time."
And with no further warning, he vanished.
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- tbc
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a/n: Reviews are always appreciated.