Chapter 8: Making Decisions For Yourself Doesn't Necessarily Make Them Better Decisions, It Just Makes Them Your Own
"I'm telling you, Ikumatsu-dono," Katsura insisted, "I ran out of nmaibo in the middle of a mission on three different occasions over the past month, and it was nearly my downfall. This is one of the serious issues in this world today. There really should be more places that–"
"And I'm telling you, I'm not interested. What does this have to do with me or what you're trying to do? If you're going to be a salesman, you should try somewhere that isn't someone else's place of business."
"It's not 'a salesman', it's Katsura. And I was only–"
"You could still go somewhere else!" With a sigh, Ikumatsu set a bowl in front of her long-haired customer. She wished she could pretend to be more irritated than she was; there was exasperation in her tone but no anger. "Honestly. What did I ever do to deserve this kind of trouble?"
Katsura remained steadfastly serious. "I've told you already, this is very important to the fate of..." he trailed off, inspecting the ramen with a frown. "Ah, Ikumatsu-dono? I distinctly remember ordering soba."
"Is that so?" She turned away. "That's funny, because I distinctly remember telling you to cut your hair."
"We have had this discussion before..."
"And you still haven't done anything about it. I don't see why you're so stubborn about that. Haven't you ever heard of people changing for–"
Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the shop's door slowly open – the quiet sliding somehow felt terribly loud.
No. It took her a moment to turn to face the door, as though looking away would make it only her imagination. There couldn't be any more customers, it wasn't possible. Not at this hour, not when she was in the middle of serving an obvious wanted criminal.
The newcomer was only dimly lit by the lights that had been so foolishly left on outside, but with that distinctive sense of style and near-tangible aura of overconfidence about him, he was completely unmistakeable. Ikumatsu realized with a sickening lurch that being caught consorting with a terrorist was the least of her concerns.
Katsura seemed to recognize him too (well, of course he did, what had she been expecting? They were both Jouishishi, weren't they?), muttering something under his breath but not saying anything aloud yet.
And Ikumatsu wouldn't let him. Instead, she said as brightly as she could, "Good evening, Sunglasses Samurai-san. You're letting in a draft, make up your mind and either leave or come in."
Katsura shot her an incredulous look, but the man bowed slightly as though nothing was out of the ordinary, closed the door and crossed – perhaps lighter on his feet than usual – to the counter.
Only after he had settled into his usual spot and offered a suitably carefree greeting did he acknowledge the fact that he wasn't the only customer. "I had worried the shop would be closed at this hour, but this is rather a pleasant surprise." He cast only a sidelong glance in Katsura's direction. "I did not expect to see one such as yourself here."
Yes, you did, Ikumatsu was about to correct him, but Katsura replied first: "I could say the same to you."
"Katsura Kotarou... is it not terribly dangerous for you to be appearing in public at all, let alone visiting a shop you have been seen in before while it is still open?" The words seemed as much directed at Ikumatsu as Katsura, and it didn't feel quite like a simple friendly warning.
"Sometimes, we must take risks." Katsura's voice was as stiff as his posture had become; however slow he could be at picking up on things, he must have realized from the start that this man wasn't just here for a meal. "There's no need to worry, I know exactly what is at stake."
"Oh? Do you now?" This of all things seemed to be amusing. The man got to his feet – Ikumatsu tensed, and he noticed it, turning to smirk at her. "Ah, that is right; I forgot to order. Surely you should know by now without my saying as much... just the special will suffice. If that is not too much trouble for you?"
Ikumatsu scowled, but before she could make a cutting remark Katsura stood up as well, apparently to defend her. "I don't know how you two know each other, but you should not be talking to Ikumatsu-dono like that."
"Oh? Shouldn't I?" This prompted an unpleasant laugh. "It is improper, I suppose. But, how curious... she has not told you a single thing? I had assumed you would be fully aware of the situation and confront me the moment I walked in. No, I cannot lie, I hoped for it."
As he spoke, he slowly reached for his hidden sword – no, no, no.
"I won't tolerate this," Ikumatsu said, painfully aware her voice was shaking. "If you two are going to fight, the least you can do is take it outside."
If only that were really what concerned her.
With an almost leisurely motion, the man with the headphones drew his blade and struck.
In the same moment, Katsura drew his own sword and blocked the blow. Ikumatsu started toward him but he shook his head at her before moving into an attack of his own.
This, too, seemed only to be a warning, and was avoided easily. Neither of them wanted to be caught making the first drastic move, did they? But just as she thought that, they both proved her wrong, throwing themselves into more violent attacks. Those could be killing blows if they landed as intended, someone was going to die... the unreasonable part of her brain panicked, but she refused to accept that as the only way this could end.
Still, it was hard to feel relieved at Katsura seeming to gain the upper hand when he was just as often the one being pushed back – one time hitting a table, knocking it over, but not hesitating for a moment – and harder yet to cheer him on with the thought in mind that he'd be willing to kill someone for her sake.
She could hardly watch. Not only was she so disturbed by this she nearly gave in to the instinctive need to look away, but their moves were becoming difficult to follow. She knew from her own pathetic attempt at fighting that man that he was quick, but from a bystander's perspective he seemed impossibly so. Yet Katsura could keep up with him – something she'd never doubted, however frightening the implications were when she considered it. They looked to be fairly evenly matched, in an unsettling way.
It didn't take long for them to notice their similar skill levels, either: something which made Katsura uneasy while the other man seemed to become more confident. As though this was what he wanted the whole time.
No, without a doubt it was. She wondered what he would claim to hear now.
Ikumatsu felt herself shifting toward the end of the counter, though she knew there was nothing she could do and it would be safer to stay in the kitchen. Her eyes remained fixated on the battle, but she knew nothing about how a sword fight was supposed to go, what sorts of techniques they used, or how effective any of this was. They'd become little more than flashes of colour, jumping and dodging, lunging at one another or twisting around, swords crashing together but not causing any injury that could slow either of them down.
In truth, it was starting to look like a lot of showing off to her, more a strange dance than anything with lives at stake, but with a mutual understanding that it could change at any moment. The slightest mistake or opening could bring an immediate end to this. And when that inevitable point came... she could only hope it wouldn't be one of the worse outcomes she could imagine.
They were fighting because of her, the thought hit suddenly. Surely this had been planned in advance on that horrible man's part, but this turn of events would never have been possible if she hadn't gotten involved with them both.
What a fool she'd been, reading so far into things.
After what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a few minutes, the two came to an abrupt stop: their swords clashed, but rather than quickly spring apart again they both stood still. Breathing heavily, bearing no more wounds than a few shallow cuts, silently daring each other to move, or else trying to push past each other's defenses. It seemed that would be impossible as well, they both held their stances so firmly...
Katsura seemed suddenly to give up, allowing his blade to be pushed back only to force it forward again, at a different angle – the other man's grip slipped.
They both froze as the sword clattered to the floor. After a moment, Katsura raised his own again and shifted his stance as though readying himself to continue regardless, but continued to hold his ground.
Somehow Ikumatsu doubted his adversary, who was now adjusting his headphones and inspecting a cut on his cheek with no attempt to retrieve the fallen weapon, would have done the same. For that matter, he might still have been plotting something.
"Will you not fight?" Katsura asked, more expressing confusion than challenging him.
"There is no need; victory is already yours." He examined the blood on his fingers, returning to a more casual stance. "You have proven yourself the better of us... though I daresay that is not too difficult a thing to prove. You've a right to do as you see fit from here." When Katsura didn't seem any less uncertain, he laughed softly. "Well? Did you not wish to teach me a lesson? You intend to protect Ikumatsu-dono from me, after all..."
"She would never forgive me," Katsura said firmly, though he didn't lower his sword just yet.
"For making a mess in her shop, or for wasting your time on someone so clearly not worth it?"
"You–"
"Stop it!" Ikumatsu dashed out from behind the counter, stepping between the two of them. She wasn't willing to look at either of them as she took a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure. "I refuse to let you fight over me. To be having this argument in my presence, when neither of you even bothered to ask what I wanted? You should be ashamed."
Katsura fell silent, likely very ashamed, but the real offender only replied smoothly, "This is a ramen shop. Have you not made it your job to give people what they want without them offering the same to you?"
Ikumatsu turned on him, and before she realized what she was doing one of her hands gripped the front of his coat, the other clenched into a fist at her side. Katsura's voice sounded faintly behind her, but whatever he said didn't register. He'd been right about one thing – she wouldn't forgive his interference. This was her own battle. "If you still want a lesson, that can be arranged."
The man remained, as per usual, disproportionately nonchalant, wiping more blood from his face. "I take it I will not be having any ramen tonight?"
"Or any night after this! I'll be damned if I ever let you in here again!" She stood on her toes to yell in his face as he effortlessly resisted being pulled down to her level. "You were never welcome here to begin with, and to think after all this time you were only hanging around so you could fight Katsura-san!"
The man's eyebrows shot up; when he spoke, his tone almost seemed genuinely troubled. "Is that... really what you believe?"
"It is," the words came out almost in a growl; for once, she didn't allow uncertainty to take hold of her. "I'm done putting up with this– this–"
"Nonsense?" he offered, his usual impassive expression returning.
"I was thinking bullshit." If she looked closely, she could see his eyes. They were every bit as unreadable as the rest of his face, and she wondered why she cared to search in the first place. What had she ever been looking for? It was infuriating, every single thing about him was... "I'm only going to say this once, so listen up, you ass–"
"Kawakami Bansai."
"What?"
"That is my name. You asked quite early in our acquaintance and at last you have been given an answer. You've no longer a need to call me such foolish and impolite words instead."
"As if that was why I–" She cut herself off, realizing there could only be one reason he would be giving her his name so late: it no longer mattered, he saw no reason to be worried she'd use it against him. Which meant...
She released her grip, her feet flat on the floor once more; her hand hung uselessly in the air in front of her. "Are you really..."
Bansai, as he was now named, took a short step back and bowed deeply. "It has been a pleasure," he said, and there was not any scorn in his voice, though his face could have been hiding anything.
And then, to Ikumatsu's disbelief, he took her still-outstretched hand and pressed it gently to his lips.
In some places in the world, this would be considered a respectful gesture. The Hokutoshinken was no such place. After a second's stunned pause, she pulled her hand free and slapped him hard across the face.
This earned her an awful little smirk.
Ikumatsu could feel Katsura staring. There was no way she'd be explaining all of this to him. She couldn't say she understood it too well herself, for that matter.
Half of her still wanted to beat some sense into Bansai, but she'd known him long enough by now to understand it would be nothing but a waste of energy to try. Her anger was already gradually ebbing, replaced by a vague apprehension. She couldn't even gather the words to say any of what she wanted to express.
"I regret not being able to hear more, but..." he glanced slowly between Ikumatsu and Katsura, who had now finally chosen to sheathe his sword, and nodded. "You've enough to deal with as it is, do you not? I should apologize for..." he caught himself, seeming to take some effort in correcting his statement, "no, I do apologize for the trouble I have caused."
"I can't accept that apology," Ikumatsu said, crossing her arms, then added after a brief pause, "Kawakami-san. No, it's more that I don't believe you mean it."
"Ah, I had hoped not. It would have been somewhat concerning if you did believe me." Apparently having nothing more he needed to say, he turned to leave. He retrieved his sword almost as an afterthought, putting it away as he opened the door.
Then he paused, glancing back as though he expected something. "Do you not intend to say goodbye?"
Ikumatsu huffed. "Is that all? If you wanted me to see you off with a smile, you should have left a long time ago, before you lost all my respect."
"I had your respect to begin with? This comes as quite the revelation."
"It should!"
"Surely you feel I've ruined everything. Perhaps you can reconsider that, now that I will no longer be here to obstruct your clear thinking."
"Perhaps you'll find yourself reconsidering some things as well." The last thing she needed was to be reconsidering any of this, especially when he seemed to enjoy her second-guessing herself. "Don't you ever learn from your mistakes?"
"Afraid not, Ikumatsu-dono." For a second there was a fleeting hint of a smile on his face, but it vanished quickly. "But I cannot stay any longer; you have made yourself very clear... and I've elsewhere to be. Farewell."
He gave another bow, then stepped out the door without wasting another moment.
He'd left for the last time, the thought sank in slowly.
"So long, Kawakami-san," Ikumatsu said quietly, then shouted after him in hopes he'd hear it, "And good riddance!"
For a moment she stayed where she was, almost expecting him to come back and tell her it was a joke, that he'd be returning next week as usual and pretending none of this had ever happened, with some inane comment about music thrown in there somewhere too. But he did no such thing, and finally she forced herself to move, quickly returning to her place behind the counter. It was about time she washed those dishes; terrorist fights weren't going to make that happen for her.
Still... that man – she'd considered him a nameless, despicable thing for too long to start properly thinking of him by a name now – may have been gone, but it would be a long time before he left her thoughts. It was hard to convince herself he could feel anything at all, so she didn't know where to begin with thinking about what he'd been thinking just now. But maybe she didn't have to. If he hadn't wanted to leave, he would have just stuck around against her wishes. Was telling him to go all she'd ever had to do, or were there other factors she wasn't thinking about? No, he'd only ever wanted to fight Katsura, and took a brief interest in her in the meantime, that was what she'd decided and he had not denied it. And as for herself...
As for herself, she'd done what she had to. Was that not what he would say of his own misguided choices? Perhaps she was no better than he was in that, but at least she hadn't hurt any innocent people in the process. And she'd actually accomplished something, finally winning against the part of herself that had kept letting him come back.
She was dimly aware of Katsura returning quietly to his seat, not touching the bowl of ramen still sitting on the counter. "...So, Ikumatsu-dono..." After a long silence, he spoke up, apprehensive.
"I'd rather not talk about it," she said. At least, not until she'd had a chance to think this over herself. Then there could be questions. She had some of her own, too.
"That was not what I was going to ask. May I have my soba now?"
Ikumatsu raised her eyebrows, but began to giggle despite herself, covering her mouth with her hand.
Did she really expect any more than this from men who couldn't even grasp the concept of reasonable hairstyles?
"You know what? I think I'll make soba tomorrow's special."
Author's Notes: And they all lived happily ever after. Except for Bansai, who broke into a run not even ten steps out the door and went and wrecked shit. Wrecking shit is his job, of course, he would have done it either way...
This chapter was originally a drabble titled "Closure", which was some thousand words shorter and written by me to end the plot between these two after Shyra gave up on her Ikumatsu blog. The working title for this version of it was "We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank", stolen from a Modest Mouse album, which I thought appropriately summed up my feelings for this whole thing. But in the end I decided on another goofy Gintama-esque chapter title pointing out that Ikumatsu has finally made up her mind.
The "Is that really what you believe?" line is a callback to Bansai asking the same thing back in chapter 4, which made Ikumatsu unsure, and then her answer contrasts with her apology in chapter 6. And you can do your own work to catch all the cross-references and echoes and foreshadowing throughout the story. I'm not that big of a show-off.
Honestly I could fill a whole 'nother... however many words this fic has, 25k without including the author's notes? words with what Bansai felt about this whole thing. He's the one I normally write, I just borrowed Ikumatsu for a bit here. But I feel like the effect is stronger if I only obliquely imply he has feelings at all, with Ikumatsu not understanding. He loved her, you know. But it wasn't the healthy romantic love that becomes a lasting relationship. This was always doomed to end like this, something he knew better than anyone.
Bansai expressed a wish to fight both Gintoki and Katsura back in the Benizakura arc. He got to fight Gintoki a long time ago but never got to go after Katsura in canon (and probably never will now, looking at the way things have been going), so I used that. It was not the premise of the Bansai/Ikumatsu ship in the first place, though we've noticed since that if you want to call this a love triangle in any way, you should consider Katsura the one being fought over. Something went wrong. Oh so terribly wrong.
Half of me wants to go on but the other half wants to let our dear readers do the commentary from here on out. Ikumatsu stopped being a reliable narrator (as far as Bansai is concerned, with some startling episodes where she can't narrate anything right thrown in there too) about halfway through the first chapter, so throughout the whole fic it's really up to your personal interpretation what Bansai is thinking. We know he's a liar too, more by omission than outright false statements later on.
Anyway, I hope you've all enjoyed this fic. Presumably you wouldn't be still here to read this if you weren't. I hope you'll be here to support me with whatever I write next.