a/n: Some light angst in the beginning of this chapter, but that's probably enough angst for what's supposed to be crack taken seriously.

"It makes me feel a bit lonely. Livin' my life seein' things that I'm familiar with changin' and goin' away, and seein' ones that we were supposed ta walk together with ta the future... movin' on alone is just..."

Tsukuyo took a breath.

"But that's why I gotta see it through. 'Cause the things that're ending and the things that're being born... I've gotta use as steppin' stones ta move towards the future. And someday when that guy gets back, I wanna tell him that. Then I think he'll walk with everyone on tha same path to the future again... So, tell me. Where'd he go? What's he seein' now? Is it the past, or is it the future?"

And that was how Ayame, somehow, understood she had lost the war.

It was melancholy, to recognize that someone was a better person than you. A better fit for the person you loved. Or to understand, not by pure amount of rejection but by the sheer selflessness of the two people she loved in equal measure, that her place was not meant to be by Gintoki's side.

At that moment, when her heart started to ache, she had, in her own way, quietly withdrawn.

She had given up.

In the name of friendship, she had put on lofty airs, insisting that she had never really loved Gintoki in the first place. It had been one of pure sexual desire, and now that he was proving himself to be the biggest masochist on earth, she claimed that she had lost all interest.

In reality, she had spent probably a good six months crying intermittently. Privately, of course. She'd be damned if someone actually knew how much she cried the first time she found out the two were seeing each other.

What made it even worse that she couldn't even muster anger at the two of them. She'd given Tsukuyo her blessing, and had meant it. What she didn't expect was the sight of them, happy together - would crush her heart the way it did.

For all the logic that had led to her the conclusion to give up on Gintoki, it had not prevented her from feeling every bit of heartbreak as one would have expected.

And so, she had kept herself far, far away from the Kabuki-chou district. In fact, she had poured her pain into work.

Get the coordinates from her boss, execute the target, collect the monetary reward. Cry in the bath, go to sleep, and wake up the next day, as if she hadn't committed atrocities in exchange for ludicrous amounts of money. Rinse and repeat.

Still, after a few months, she'd gotten used to seeing the pair walking about town. She figured that she was probably going to be okay in six or seven years. There was a saying that people would take half of the time they spent in a relationship to get over someone. Not that she had ever been in a relationship with Gintoki, but she certainly had spent enough time with him that it had felt almost real at times.

She never had and never would love another man the way she loved Gintoki.

It was a maddening love, an obsessive one. It had consumed her completely, like wildfire, and had been completely out of her control. When she attended his wedding, it had felt like a metaphorical death of her former self.

But by some miracle, she had managed to get out of bed the next day. She had downed a hangover cure in the morning, scrubbed herself raw in the shower, and headed straight to work after that.

And if someone had mysteriously kept his distance away from her all that time, well.

She wouldn't dwell on it. Refused to.

She had enough disappointment to last for one lifetime.

-x-

By now, shinobi being the adaptable humans that they were, nothing would have fazed the two of them. Though the situation was weird - and no doubt, the two of them would have much preferred not to be there in the first place, there was a calm acceptance about it.

"How long do you think we've been in these rooms?" she asked him. They were waiting for the next challenge, and were sitting on the floor.

"One hour, give or take," he said.

She had found his presence... not as annoying or as intimidating before they'd been trapped in this odd escape room. He still remained cold as he ever was, but at least now she could see that there were peeks of warmth lying underneath the veneer somewhere.

It was typical behavior from him.

Once upon a time, when they were half their respective heights, it had been a rite of passage to bully the newcomer in school.

Ayame's first week at the ninja academy was no exception to the rule.

They'd pelted her with acorns or small rocks, things that wouldn't leave a noticeable mark. She'd been an easy target, especially with her bright hair and glasses.

The worst part was during recess. Hattori-sensei wasn't there to supervise in between classes.

At first, she'd thrown the acorns back at them. But it became a bit of a futile battle as it was impossible to fight ten against one.

She had refused, in her childish way, to give in. She wouldn't report the harassment to her teacher.

She'd endure.

Zenzou had watched this sort of behavior go by for a good week or so before lazily knocking them all out with his kunai - it had been stolen from his father, as they weren't quite supposed to have the real thing at their age.

She had been surprised to see the class slacker jump down from the tree, looking at her with an expression of disdain.

"You know you're supposed to think your way out of this situation, right?"

He'd never spoken to her before then.

"Thanks for the help," she snapped at him. "I really appreciated it when I saw you were just sitting there a week ago."

He was taken aback at her vehemence, but recovered with ease. "I wasn't doing it for you. This is the only time I get to read Jump in peace, away from my old man. You guys were being noisy, that's all."

And he strolled away without another word, leaving her enraged at his nonchalance. The more infuriating part was that nobody had bothered her ever again.

Teacher's son privileges.

He had a way of making her feel small without saying a single word. She'd rage at him, and then something would reveal that in fact, he hadn't done anything that bad in the first place.

If he slacked off during group projects, he'd turn up last minute with his part ready.

If he suddenly disappeared during a team mission, he'd reconvene with the objective in hand.

She could never predict what his next move would be.

His unpredictability had been one of the things she had despised the most about him. It didn't help that he was naturally suited for their profession. She always had to work twice as hard as he did just to succeed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Zenzou asked, breaking her train of thought. For a moment, she was momentarily shocked to see the grown up version of him sitting across from her - legs crossed, thumbs flicking through the latest edition of Jump.

In some ways he hadn't changed at all.

"Am I in hell?" Ayame pondered out loud. "Did we finally kick the bucket and I ended up stuck in this weird place with you?"

He contemplated it. "I always sort of imagined hell to be more... fiery."

A hole emerged from the wall, and their heads instinctively turned towards it. Zenzou caught the scroll of paper before it landed on the ground.

He read it silently, and then without a single change of expression on his face, remarked, "Actually, I changed my mind. I really am in hell."

She snatched the paper out of his hands, unfurling it at the speed of light. With a gasp of horror, she then tore it into shreds.

-x-

"I bet we're actually in those sick porn studios," Ayame reasserted for the thousandth time. "This is totally illegal. They're just intent on humiliating us all, and watch us do these disgusting things to each other, all while they're all jacking themselves off."

"I thought you found those things exciting," he commented, unfortunately accustomed to her crudeness.

"No offense, but you're not my type. At all. At least Gin-san would make it seem sexy. If anyone saw me on top of you they'd just turn off their laptops and touch grass - "

"I think I got the point, Sarutobi. But taking a bath together is far from doing disgusting things to each other. Actually, I'd say instead of becoming disgusting, it's in the opposite direction."

"It's one step away from a goddamn soapland!" she shrieked. "I have to see you naked! And you'll see me naked!"

"The paper didn't say anything about blindfolds," he pointed out. "And in all honesty, I'm the one who should be more concerned, seeing as you're the exhibitionist around these parts-"

She socked him in the stomach, which shut him up for a minute. He leaned against the wall, wheezing before straightening himself up.

"Alright, fine. So I'll wear the blindfold," he said grumpily.

It was probably for the best, considering that he wasn't entirely disgusted with the prospect of seeing her naked. Somehow, her terrible personality could never completely erase her inherent attractiveness. Being in love with a certified nymphomaniac prone to fits of violence wasn't easy; there were some days where he envied Gintoki - who, although suffered from his share of kunai attacks - at least was in love with someone fairly reasonable.

He didn't really need her to find out about his stupid crush on her via unwanted erections, in any case. Now that would have been a contender for the Top 10 Worst Anime Confessions - although he supposed if Gintama was set in some sort of dodgy R-18 doujinshi, it'd wouldn't be completely out of the ordinary.

The door from their current room was starting to steam. Ostensibly, it was a bathroom.

Zenzou sighed, and unwrapped his scarf from his neck, cutting a portion of it off with a kunai. "I'll get undressed first. I'll see if I can find those milky bath salts - maybe it won't be as pornographic as you think it is."

-x-

Ayame was no stranger to seeing naked men. Part of her job unfortunately was to commit heinous murders, and sometimes that meant sneaking when victims were in... compromising situations.

Maybe they were in the middle of fucking their mistresses. Maybe they were sleeping in the bath after a long day of work. Or maybe they were changing clothes. In either case, one poison dart to their neck was enough to do the job - a clean, efficient way to eliminate the target. No need to actually touch them, god forbid. She wasn't a courtesan, as much as her sexual proclivities might have insinuated.

Sharing a goddamn bath with a man who wasn't Gintoki, though - now that was...

To say that she was uncomfortable was a complete understatement.

She fidgeted for ten minutes before deciding to barge in there. Fully clothed, mind you.

The first room was a locker room with a vanity mirror. She paused, before looking in the compartments and saw that there were amenities that one would normally find at a normal bathouse. Bottles of lotion, shampoo, and conditioner were neatly lined on a shelf.

Biting her lip, she quickly undressed and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel. She helped herself to a hairtie and put her hair into a bun.

She rapped against the door, yelling, "I'm coming in! You better keep your eyes closed or else I'll castrate you!"

A muffled "Go ahead," echoed from the other side.

When she slid the door open, she was struck by how... perfectly normal the place was. Similar to most onsens, there were places to wash the body, right before entering the heated pool of water. She could smell the fragrant scent of cypress wood, punctuated with notes of yuzu fruit. She guessed the mineral salts in the water were responsible for the pleasant mixture of aromas.

Scowling, she couldn't help but think that it'd be an enjoyable experience if it weren't for the strings attached.

Zenzou was already sitting in the pool, leaning against the wall. He'd already wrapped his scarf around his eyes, the steam causing tendrils of hair to cling to his forehead. At the sound of her footsteps, he tilted his head, sensing her presence.

She swallowed.

"As it turns out," he said coolly, "The water is quite murky. So no need to be afraid that I'll turn into some sort of peeping tom."

She glared at him, and then realized he wouldn't be able to see her expression. How troublesome.

"I didn't ask," she said curtly. "How long do you think we have to be here?"

"How long does a couple spend time in a bath?" he asked sarcastically, and she flushed.

"Beats me," she snapped at him, and sat down to wash herself before entering the bath, hanging her towel on a nearby hook. She took special care to pick a stall far away from his field of vision, lathering up a bar of soap in between her hands. The sooner she finished, the sooner they could get to the next room.

Once she rinsed off, she wrapped her towel around her body again. "I'm coming in. If I catch you with that blindfold off - "

"Don't worry, Sarutobi," he cut in dryly. "My eyes are shut tight."

She dipped a toe into the water, finding it hot, but not scalding. The sensation was lovely, and once she had completely submerged herself into the hot bath, she could feel several knots in her neck unraveling.

She hadn't realized how stressed she'd been as of lately, and let out a sigh of contentment.

"Nice, isn't it? I forgot that it's been ages since I visited one of these places. Most of them won't let me in, on account of... " He gestured vaguely at his arm.

There was a tattoo of the Oniwaban's crest, inked on his right bicep. She blinked at the sight, having forgotten that he'd been one of the youngest members to be initiated into the organization. Her own insignia had been branded on her hip for reasons stemming from pure vanity. She didn't want it to show if she was wearing looser fitting clothes, especially during the summer.

"You could always sneak in, you know," she suggested, leaning against the side.

His expression grew offended. "I would never. I'm not like you; a cat doesn't go where he's not wanted."

"Still stuck on those cat metaphors?" she asked playfully. His mouth lifted, and something in her gut twisted uncomfortably.

"I personally think it's an excellent one," he said, although he didn't sound defensive. "Cats don't need to be taken care of. You have to prove that you're worthy of their love before they trust you."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Because all us can be reduced to animal traits."

"Some people aren't that complex," he reasoned. "For example, take your friend. The blonde one."

"What about her?"

"Well, she's selfless to a fault. Even if she's a kunoichi, I'd say she's a classic dog through and through."

"How so?"

"She'd do anything for a stranger, even if it means that she'd suffer in the process."

"And I suppose that makes her more admirable?"

"Not necessarily," he said. "It comes from a place of insecurity. She hasn't accepted that her own needs are important, and doesn't value herself enough to do so. She'll make herself smaller to make others feel more comfortable. I admire that mentality, because in many ways, she's emotionally stronger than I am. But I've come to accept that this way of thinking isn't the kind of person that I am. "

Ayame lifted an eyebrow. "And you'd know this because... ?"

"Because I saw her kill her master without a second thought to save the man that she loved."

Her eyes widened. As if to answer her incoming question, he nodded in confirmation.

Tsukki... When? How?

And... why?

She had no idea.

There'd been a few mentions here and there. She had rifted through the official records to know that that Jiraia, formerly Tobita Danzou, had died in an incident involving Yoshiwara. And yes, Ayame knew that kunoichi of Tsukuyo's caliber didn't exist without specialized training. Not to mention that Zenzou was never one to speak highly of anyone without reason, so it couldn't have been a lie. But still... she didn't think she - or Zenzou, in spite of his calculative nature - could have ever done such a thing.

The guilt would have eaten them alive.

"I don't know the circumstances of what happened. If she had no other choice... then... I think she probably did the right thing."

"Of course it was the right thing," he said. "But I don't have anything in common with those selfless kinds of people, who can sacrifice so much without giving a single thought to themselves. I'd much prefer to be stuck in the dirt like a worm, crawling around with selfish women like you."

Ayame flushed, indignant. "How dare you! I - "

He chuckled. "I'm going to get out of the bath now before you do something horrible to me. Yes, even when I can't see your face, I can easily imagine your expression right now. Why don't you turn away your eyes from me before you get even more angry that you were trapped here with me instead of your beloved permhead?"

And indeed, if it had been any other woman, they would have done so out of politeness.

But because she was still wearing her glasses, and because she was a natural born pervert, and precisely because she had never been very good at taking directions from her boss, Ayame did not look away.

Which had been a mistake, because if she had, she would not seen the utterly effortless way he climbed out of the bath without a single misstep, the water trickling down in between his shoulder blades, emphasizing his lean, but well toned body. She would not have seen his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he dried himself off with a fresh towel, causing her to imagine what he would be like, doing this and that to her. Or have wondered what he would look like if he was tied with rope, to accompany the scarf already wrapped around his eyes.

If she hadn't looked, Ayame wouldn't have realized that Hattori Zenzou, underneath all those loose layers of clothing, was...

Actually hot.

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- tbc

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