part three. People who don't believe in their banana sensors deserve to have them cut off
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"Welcome to today's Edo Music Countdown! We bring you all the newest updates on music charts nation-wide, in absolute real time! I'm Hanano, your host, and beside me I have the sensational God of Cardboard. I'll be interviewing him shortly, so you'll have to stick around if you don't want to miss it! MADAO-san, do you have any words to say before we begin?"
Hasegawa Taizo is an inspiring man. Having gone from riches to rags in one swift move, he rose to stardom with nothing but cardboard and an acoustic guitar to his name just as spontaneously. He may still be a MADAO, but he's a More Attractive Dude Attracting Officeladies now—a true MADAO. Encumbered by his newfound wisdom and unsure of which piece to showcase first, he opens his mouth to speak. "Um," he says intelligently.
He's already cut off before he has a chance to gather his thoughts together. "Right," Hanano quickly continues, "And here we bring up the music sales chart on the screen behind me. At a secure third in sales volume is the hit singer-songwriter who has proved his worth with a shelf life longer than the newspapers of yesterday. MADAO, who is also leading the current spike in cardboard shortages with his new single, 'Fantastic Cardboard and Where to Find Them'. Since we have the MADAO with us today, how do you like your cardboard prepared?"
Ooh, was it time for his interview now? Hasegawa touches the smooth top of his newly shaved head nervously and clears his throat. "Um, I—"
"What's this?" Hanano exclaims, eyes following sudden shifts in the monitor reflecting the music chart beside the cameraman and waving Hasegawa aside. Something remarkable was taking place on the charts. At a remarkable speed to match the speed of the new entrant's movement on the chart, she reports excitedly, "There's a new rookie on the rise! Their debut album is wreaking havoc on the charts, jumping from 30th to an astonishing 8th within their first ten minutes of release and they're still not out of steam. They're 4th now, bumping down DOESN'T's 'Sunny Skies' and oh, they've now overtaken 'Fantastic Cardboard and Where to Find Them'!"
Behind the scenes, the studio is in an uproar with a flurry of outbound calls, the staff in charge of the show being in various states of confusion and panic. The director is already on his feet and barking orders: "Call them! Which company are they under? Whose eggs did they pop out from? Find out and get them onto our show immediately!"
In the midst of all of this, Hasegawa is ignored, much to his growing dismay. "Hey, what about my interview? Do I still get an interview? Hey, Hanano-chan!" He tries to protest.
And Hanano spares him a quick glance and a disarming smile to say, "Oh, MADAO-san, you're still here? We won't be interviewing you anymore… Who'd be interested in you now?"
"We've contacted them! They're on their way!" One of the staff yells, and Hanano turns away to look straight at the camera.
"Yes, this is Edo Music Countdown, and we're happy to introduce Houkago Happy Hour, who will be joining us for their first time ever on TV. Right after this commercial break, so don't you go changing the channel!"
It would be another short-lived career in the life of Hasegawa Taizo. In the end, he supposes, a MADAO will always be a MADAO. The steps leading out of the building weigh like lead on his legs; the cheap cardboard box digs coldly around his waist; and he stumbles out of grey concrete ceilings straight into the overcast ones outside wearing an expression darker than his shades.
Four young brides brush past him on the other side of the doors and head in the exact direction he'd come from. Oddly, he doesn't even feel any surge of jealousy or resentment at the loss of his place or the embarrassment of being cast aside for a group of younger new stars. Even someone like him can discern their light.
No- perhaps it's precisely because it's someone like him that he sees it. Because he'd seen the same kind of light like the one emanating from the woman with the mess of silver pigtails on her head. It reminds him of Gin-san, this light that had entranced him in the first place and led him to where he is today. He can't say he's completely happy with the turn his life took after that one impulsive knockout of the idiot prince, but there are new things he's learned to treasure now.
That similar dull, mouldy silver is here, albeit in a gentler, younger tone. Either less burdened by fewer losses, or rejuvenated by things lost and then found again. The group of interest has already turned around the corner before he can get another look.
It's enough to give him hope, regardless. Well, it wasn't a total loss; he'd still made enough from this endeavour to tide him over for a few weeks before hunting for another job would be a necessity again. In fact, maybe with the last few bits of his savings he could even treat Gin-san and Zura-cchi to a couple rounds of drinks. As the walk back to his park becomes less daunting along the way, he notes that, hey, Gin-san finally wasn't involved in his loss of a job this time around.
If only he knew….
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"We've all known each other for a really long time," Gintoki finds himself saying in response to the question that was posed to the group.
It's been about five minutes since their introduction to the viewers of Edo Music Countdown and so far their first time being interviewed together is going pretty well. The invitation to guest on the show had come out of the blue, after all. At the adjournment of their last meeting, they'd agreed that cell phones would be necessary for instant communication if anything ever came up, and they'd gone their separate ways after teaching Katsura how to use one (along with how not to use one, so as to prevent an Isaburo in the making). That way, they could quickly gather together for public appearances. Gintoki didn't own a cell phone either, and considering how he couldn't even fork out enough money for a cell phone charm, the other three had been forced to chip in.
"I would gladly pay for both my phone and Gintoki's, but I don't have my wallet anymore," points out Katsura, who'd been initially hesitant with the idea of cell phones but was now launching birds with deadly accuracy on one of the sample phones on display. "I read the last chapter, Tatsuma, and you never returned my wallet."
Sakamoto rubs the back of his head. It's a gesture that looks apologetic but is really just because his curls are fluffiest back there. "Oh, I didn't? I don't have it anymore though. I don't have mine anymore either, hahahaha.."
And so there was only one person left to foot the bill, and this person's Word document, appropriately titled 'List of Reasons to Destroy The World' and last updated ten hours ago, gains a new line already. The world is accelerating to its end. With it, so is he.
That grandiose end is not now. We move back to the present timeline, where half an hour prior, record stores all across the country along with countless online music portals released 'Houkago Happy Hour The First Album: First Love'. Billboards popping out of nowhere flashed Tatsuko's bright smile and their CD cover; subway stations were plastered with Paako and her overstuffed and ticking time boombs; city walls and bulletin boards displaying posters of wanted terrorists were covered up by posters of Zurako and her favourite hair conditioner; and in every convenience store where Yakult is found stood a life-sized cut-out of Shinsuko drinking Yakult. (Sakamoto's tsukkomi attempt of "Wait, aren't I the only one advertising the album properly?!" is ignored.) The entire city of Edo was in a tizzy about four dashing maidens who'd suddenly appeared overnight.
At this instant, the camera is still focused on Gintoki's candid response. "I can probably recognize them by the shape of their nostrils," he adds as an afterthought.
"Anyone would recognize yours since you pick it all the time," Takasugi says with unsmiling sincerity.
Everyone looks at him oddly. Gintoki's eyes are twitching. …Perhaps that wasn't a good thing to add to the discussion. It was hard to remember they were pretending to be sweet women when he could clearly see through their own shoddy disguises and Gintoki still looked like the stupid, lazy, nose-picking freak he was.
Damage control, damage control… "You're disgusting," he adds, and sticks out his tongue- two parts playful and one part seductive. Let's just say he didn't pass the audition for the show's lady-killing main villain without the skills to back it up. The interview marches on.
Gintoki really hates Takasugi's getup with a passion. It was incredibly unfair, how nice the bastard's slim legs looked in—what the hell? Gin-san isn't a goddamn hormonal teenager, so stop writing him as one, you shitty author! This is Takasugi we're talking about. Takasugi! Asshole of all assholes! With the obscene addiction to Yakult! How could he ever get it up for a guy like that?
Thoroughly aggravated now, he snaps back with his default retort in a sloppy higher pitch, for once thankful that he's in a rather loose wedding dress. "Hah, that's rich, coming from the one bringing down our group's average height."
"Say that again. I dare you." Fuck damage control. The glint of bloodlust in Takasugi's eye will soon be less a glint and more an action. The world trembles.
It is evident to anyone watching that things are about to spiral out of control soon. Just what kind of first impressions were they currently making on Edo's populace, anyway? With a deliberate cough, Hanano tries to drag the group back to the topic at hand. "Um, we'll move on now to the last segment of our interview, where we ask viewers watching this right now to tweet us a question you've all been dying to ask! We'll pose the first question we receive to the lovely ladies of Houkago Happy Hour."
The momentary pique of interest is enough to calm our Joui down. They settle back down to prim positions and brush soft bangs out of their faces, reclaiming and reaffirming their ladylike dignity on the screen. That is, until Gintoki's stuffed boobs cause an itch and it's his immediate reflex to scratch at it. Katsura sends a bony elbow to nudge him in the side, but not before Sakamoto sneezes with the force of everything else he does and effectively freezes everyone in their places.
There's no need to worry; a member of the staff has already rushed on to the set to hand Hanano a cue card, a question having been inscribed upon it. "Wow, we've received a question already!" Even Hanano's cheerful demeanor is vanishing by the minute as she reads, "This is directed to Katsura Zurako-san. It says: Zura Zurako, you're Zura Zurako. How does it feel to have two Zuras in your name, Zura?"
Katsura pauses to consider this worthy question. And then his screeches fill the studio and ring through the rooms of every citizen in Edo currently tuned in to the channel. "Okay, which one of you sent that in?! Divine retribution!" he shrieks, pointing hysterical fingers in the direction of his angelic bandmates who would never do such a thing, nope. In fact, he wounds them with such baseless accusations, and they must share a secret high-five to console each other while Takasugi slips his phone away. "It's not Zura Zurako, it's Katsura!"
Hanano tries to calm him down. "Zurako-san, I'm sure it was just an honest question." Her voice falls on deaf ears as the noblewoman straightens up and smiles.
"I hope you all realize that this means war."
The last word elicits a different image in each of their minds. It momentarily stuns them and Katsura's next lines don't sink in as quickly as they should have.
"Ah, wait, cameraman-dono, you must be sure to capture the left side of my face. They say the left side is prettier. You will want to stand over there and I will tilt my head this way… ah, good. And Shinsuko has a scar on her butt that serves as a topographic map of the area around Mount Fuji and it—" He's cut off when the air gets cut off at his windpipe, Takasugi having wrestled him into a painful headlock.
The silence that ensues in the rest of the room ('Ow-ow-ow-ow NOT MY HAIR, SHINSUKO,' Katsura is screaming. No one really feels like rescuing him at the moment.) is not the least bit comfortable.
Gintoki is left gaping, his mind having drawn a blank. "Wait, Takasugi, you… you…"
Takasugi cranes his neck to look at him, all the while keeping a tight grip on a fistful of Katsura's hair. "I..." He pauses. A faint blush warms Takasugi's cheeks as this story takes a shoujo turn. "I…"
The illusion shatters as quickly as it had come. "Don't be ridiculous," he snaps, green eye managing to glare violently at everyone in the room all at once. "Are you going to believe Zura? How the hell would Zura know anyway?"
"Yeah, Zura wouldn't know…" Gintoki trails off as a nauseating image occurs to him. It involves Zura, Takasugi, and a position leading to a possibly naked backside. "Unless… the two of you…"
"Tell them how you were joking, Zurako-chan."
There's enough sheathed malice in the suffix appended to Katsura's name to melt an Excaliber. The pressure around his neck loosens enough for him to gasp out, in one quick breath, "IwascompletelyjokingShinsuko'sbuttcheeksarebareandsmoothandshinyAGHMYHAIRISFALLINGOUT."
Really, Sakamoto can't contain his guffaws any longer. He's tearing up and probably ruining his makeup, but he thinks he might still be the most normal one here. He spends a good minute laughing at that thought before saying loudly, diplomatically, "Now, girls, let's not fight, hmm~ we're still on air~ hahahahaha~"
"Thank you, Tatsuko-san," Hanano cuts in before anyone else can get in a word. "If everyone could just proceed to the little stage on the left, we've set it up for you for your debut performance of 'First Love'. Right after the commercial break!"
The camera stops rolling, but the expressions of the staff remain unreadable as they shepherd our group to the elevated platform. The instruments are all ready to go as the director signals that there are thirty seconds left before they go back on air.
Hanano feels like she's aged thirty years. "Just perform and then you can go," she intones. "Please do your best."
The Joui don't need telling twice. When the stage lights flicker on, they're all fired up. Tatsuko raises her hand, drumstick in the air as she screams, "Here we go!"
The first beat of the drum signals the start of their high-energy performance. Sure, Zurako's elegant fingers stumble over the keys a few times, and Paako's less elegant fingers stumble over her chords many times, and perhaps Tatsuko makes up a different rhythm every ten seconds … but they were still doing well, right?
Even when Shinsuko loses her place in the song because how the fuck are you supposed to match the pace of three instruments playing unpredictably, they're still pretty good, right?
They're not embarrassing themselves on national TV.
…Right?
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They leave the studio through the back door, faces buried into their hands in various states of deep shame.
"Well, there goes this gig. It was fun while it lasted, but we'll go back to our regular jobs now," Gintoki mutters. "Two terrorists, a businessman and a jack-of-all-trades. Who actually thought this would've worked out?" He's part relieved, which he should be because it's not like this was his life's calling or anything, and it was high time they got back to regular programming at the Odd Jobs; so why did a part of him feel disappointed?
No, he'd already known why. The Yorozuya, and Otose, and Tama and the hag Catherine and Otae… they were his family, and they were more than enough for him. More than he deserved.
But what of friends? The cool bickering, the heated exchanges, the mischief of it all; he'd lost it so long ago he'd forgotten to even miss it.
"You don't have a regular job," Sakamoto kindly reminds him. "Wait, I'm the only one with a 'regular job', ahahahaha…"
"You don't even do your job!"
The sun was beginning to set, a pastel palette of indigo and orange dyeing the blemished sky. Katsura sighs longingly. "And I had our next concept's outfits all ready."
"You know," starts Sakamoto as the four of them stop collectively in the middle of the empty street. "What say we all go over to Zura's base for his Famicom, for old times' sake?"
"My base is not a place for gaming, it is a serious place for developing strategies to reform Edo," Katsura says with much indignation, but he's already leading the way.
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Having completed (only) 200% of his paperwork quota for the day, the demon vice-chief of the Shinsengumi stretches and gets up, deciding to head to the vending machine for another few packs of cigarettes and some Yamazaki-harassing on the way before tackling the paperwork for next week.
Rolling his shoulders to get rid of the cricks in his joints, he makes his way down the hall as he keeps an ear out for the sound of a badminton racket whizzing through the air. He stops in his tracks when he hears something else instead. Something that sounded like… annoying girly voices, coming from an ajar door to his right. Kondo-san's room. It would damage the Commander's image (further) and set a bad example if someone else walked by and heard it, so Hijikata pushes the door open another inch and pokes his head into the room.
Finding Kondo intently watching a show on television, he calls out, "Kondo-san, I don't care what kind of shows you enjoy, but close your door properly."
"No, I'm worried." Kondo meets Hijikata's questioning gaze and tries to explain. "I believe Joui patriots are sneaking onto TV by cross-dressing as girls and spreading messages of terrorism."
. . . Okay. Back away now.
"I'm serious, Toshi! Look!"
Hijikata looks. He's greeted to the sight of four women in what looks like the new style of bridal gowns introduced by the Amanto. Right, Joui patriots. "Is that another new idol group? Kondo-san, it's okay to admit you like this kind of music."
"No, see, that girl, she's obviously a man."
With a sigh, Hijikata looks up just in time to see a close-up shot panning in on the girl with the black hair spilling over her shoulders. The demon vice-chief is a cold man who has locked his heart away.
Somehow, his breath still hitches and his heart rate speeds up.
He feels light-headed, almost possessed… but it's a different feeling from the one he felt when he was being possessed by Tosshi.
It was as if his heart was going…
..Doki-doki.
"Eh? Toshi? Can you hear me?"
Hijikata tries to remember how to breathe. "How," he rasps out, unable to peel his eyes off the screen, "How is she not a woman? She's a 100% woman. A 105% woman."
"Impossible!" Kondo is exclaiming, but Hijikata can't hear anything but the soft, soothing voice of the girl whose name he's caught as Zurako. She's screaming, but it's a melodious sound and he's been entranced.
It may be cliché as hell, but Hijikata Toushirou believes in love at first sight. He's believed in it since the first time he met Okita Mitsuba and he believes in it now.
"My banana sensor is never wrong!" Kondo continues with absolute conviction. "We have to go arrest them!"
Houkago Happy Hour, huh.
"Leave it to me, Kondo-san. I'll go arrest their figurines—uh, them, right away."
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"For someone who likes to look clean and refined all the time, your room sure is messy."
"You would never understand, Gintoki. A man wishing to revolutionize the country must begin by revolutionizing his own room. Now help me look for the Smash Bros disk card."
Katsura's current base of operations was the back room of a mayonnaise factory. It was a brilliant plan, which he eagerly explains as, "The Shinsengumi would never suspect a mayonnaise factory, and even if they did, they would have to close it down in order to inspect it fully. There would be a shortage of mayonnaise. It's all thanks to you, Gintoki. If you hadn't gotten close with the Shinsengumi dogs and exposed their weaknesses, I would never have thought of this."
"Eh, why are you making it seem like I've been working for you all this time?" Gintoki pauses to flick some snot away into the many piles of junk in the room. "Shouldn't you be paying me for the information, then?"
"I'll let you take Mario," consoles Katsura, brandishing the dusty copy of Super Smash Bros he'd finally found. "There, let's go."
"I don't even want Mario," Gintoki starts to say, but a shout sounds from the other room and the two of them spare no time in rushing to the scene.
Sakamoto and Takasugi are sitting cross-legged in front of the old television (having changed into spare yukatas), and Gintoki realizes what's wrong when he looks at the news headlines flashing at the bottom of the screen. And the horde of otaku being filmed.
New idol group Houkago Happy Hour explodes in popularity after debut broadcast, it reads.
"Seriously?" asks Gintoki.
"Seriously." Takasugi echoes gravely.
"Shush, I can't hear what they're saying." Katsura gestures to the two on the ground to scoot over and make room so he and Gintoki can join them. Together, they watch as their interviewer from earlier begins interviewing the people on the streets.
"Oh, it's Hanano-dono," he comments out loud. "You know, the whole time during the interview earlier I thought I'd seen Hanano-dono from somewhere else before, and I think I've finally got it now. A long time ago, we may have eaten a bowl of overly salty ramen together."
"I thought you said to shush."
Katsura doesn't have to, though, in order for them to hear the piercing yell of, "I ship Shinsuko slash Paako!" through the television's speakers.
What ensues is a temporarily standstill, the so-called calm before the storm as our four heroes stare at the group of fujoshi on screen waving a blown-up poster of crudely drawn fanart depicting the two subjects in a very crude position. The two halves of the ship slowly turn, disbelievingly, to each other, and then all hell breaks loose.
"What the fuck—"
"No no no no they can't ship us—"
"Why."
"No no I'm sure we must have misheard it, they said shit. Shit! See, they're shitting us right now!" Gintoki's standing up and pointing fingers to hide the embarrassment flooding his own face. Jeez, he was completely unprepared for this! Scratch that; he'd never be prepared for this.. this shipping thing! It was already bad enough that fangirls following the original manga and anime liked to pair him up with the mayora, but even fictional otaku Inside a piece of fanfiction where he's crossdressing were going to start this shipping business too? And with an equally crossdressing and abominably violent asshole?
So Gintoki had found the other attractive at some point or other. Sure, attraction was something he could admit to. He was attracted to a lot of things, like free parfaits and free dango and even violent Hyakka leaders from a freed Yoshiwara. But Sakata Gintoki hated Takasugi Shinsuke; and, even considering the possibility that he didn't, it was evident that Takasugi at least hated him. Those girls were just boarding a ship that would never sail. Or crumble on first voyage a la the future Titanic. "Wait, you can simply destroy them, right? Then this never happened. I choose you, Takachibi! Rain Destruction upon those girls!"
He grunts when his legs are kicked out from under him, sending him toppling backwards. "Then shut the hell up so I can memorize their faces."
("I can feel the complicated tangle of passionate love and hate from a long history beneath the surface and the sizzling chemistry in the air when they stand next to each other," proclaims one girl who will soon be caught in an innocent explosion.
"They look nice when they stand next to each other," explains another girl more simply who will still not be spared.)
"Hey, guys?" Sakamoto finally speaks up, scratching his head sheepishly, "What's this 'ship' thing, besides the thing I captain?"
"Wuahaha," says Katsura in a mysterious, sagely voice and fake beard. He rummages in his sleeve for the smartphone he's grown proficient in using and begins to quote Urban Dictionary: "Short for romantic relationship, popularized in fanfiction circles, where the verb form is to endorse a romantic relationship. For example—Bakasugi, don't throw my remote at my TV! Gintoki, control your partner in the Gintaka ship."
The nobleman's fake beard is knocked off when his remote changes course and flies at him instead. "Now, now, settle down. Hanano-dono is still interviewing our insightful fans. Ooh, this one is holding four figurines of me!"
A faintly familiar man with a red headband and ragged sleeves is being captured on screen. Behind him are the highly disciplined army of Zurako's fanclub. "Listen up!" Barking orders as if he'd been doing so for most of his life, he yells, "We are on a mission to sweep all of Zurako-chan's figurines! I decree that each person must buy at least four. And if you can afford it, buy forty. Bring me your receipts or it's seppuku. Don't worry about having no room to house them, there is plenty of room in the barracks…"
That's when he sees Hanano and the crew of cameramen watching him. "Oh shi—" Paling, he hopes for the first time that Sougo actually is taking a nap somewhere. He'd never hear the end of it if the brat ever saw this.
"Err, excuse me," ventures Hanano. "I'm interviewing all sorts of Houkago Happy Hour fans and if you have some time to spare, could you answer a few questions? First of all, what turned you into a fan?" At this rate, I'm actually really curious, she thinks.
"I watched your show," Tosshi, or rather, Hijikata dressed up as Tosshi, hesitantly answers.
How could that dismal performance turn you all into fans?! Hanano subtly coughs and tries to think of a gentler way to phrase her next question. "How could that dismal performance turn you all into fans?!" Woops, it was already the gentlest she could go.
"They're cute," Hijikata retorts in defense. "Of course, Zurako-chan is the cutest, and the silver permhead is the least cute, but the point is that they're completely natural unlike idols that care too much about their image. See, they don't bother with an image at all, and that gives them the best image." The Zurako fanclub are all nodding in unison in the background.
On the other side of the screen back at our terrorist's hideout, Gintoki's brow is ticking. "Hey, you bastard mayora, who'd you say was the least cute..?"
"Hey, bastard Hijikata-san, who'd you say was the least cute?" drawls a voice that sends chills down Hijikata's back. It.. It can't be…
"S-Sougo!" Sure enough, on the screen appears a pair of newcomers, namely one Sougo and one leashed up animal on the ground. "What are you doing here?!"
"My, shouldn't I be asking you that, Hijikata-san? Offering to use government grounds for your figurines and neglecting your Vice-Commander duties, tsk tsk. Don't worry, I'll put you out of your shame right now." With practiced ease, he takes out his bazooka and yells, "Vengeance for Paako-san!"
Our two thornies stop and stare, one wide-eyed at the screen and one in the scene itself. "Vengeance for who?" Hijikata repeats dumbly.
Sougo sighs. "Okay, let's do the introduction before I kill Hijikata-san. Prepare for trouble!"
"And make it double!"
"To prepare the world for domination!"
"To unite all peoples into submission!"
"To denounce the evils of Fukuchou!"
"To kill Master's enemy, Hijikata Toushirou!"
"Master!" smirks Sougo, eyes glowing a demonic red.
"And his pet, Sacchan!" screams Sacchan from the ground. The camera momentarily pans to her before it quickly spins away in censorship.
"Team Paako S&M at the speed of light!"
"Surrender now, or prepare to fight!"
("Ahahahaha, you guys have such interesting fans." Sakamoto is wiping tears from his eyes.
Gintoki wants to cry, too.)
"That's right!" Sacchan finishes rather breathlessly, "Are you watching this, Gin-san? Do you see, Gin-san? I'm not your stalker anymore! All I need is Master and Paako-san! Are you feeling empty? It's too late for you to step on me now, only Master and Paako-san can step on me—"
The weight of Sougo's boot on her face shuts Sacchan up. "Eh, did I permit you to speak after the introduction, bitch? Anyway, for secretly getting a Houkago Happy Hour CD signed by Paako-san delivered to your porch… die, Hijikata!"
"I don't even know what you're talking about, brat, but you piss me off. You die, Sougo!"
The Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi and the First Division Captain of the Shinsengumi clash swords in a mighty explosion of sparks and property damage.
.
"We've managed to get away," hollers Hanano into her microphone. "Now, does Houkago Happy Hour have any normal fans? The group there with the CDs, whose fanclub are you a part of?"
The group of normal-looking teenage boys parts to look at the cameras. "Tatsuko-chan seems so sweet," one of them ventures.
"Definitely Tatsuko-chan," the others quickly come to an agreement.
Takasugi, having finally won the impromptu wrestle for the remote, chooses that moment to turn the television off. He tosses it away the next moment and the four Joui sit in a contemplative silence. So it had actually worked out… huh.
Their designated manager, just because it had been his idea in the first place, was already on his phone negotiating some details. "Yes, produce more copies, and also make different versions of the covers, and add more merchandise," Katsura pauses and lifts the receiver away. "Shinsuke, throw me that pencil over there." He catches it before it stabs out his eye and continues to talk with the other person on the line.
"Why do you get the normal fans," Gintoki is grumbling at Sakamoto. "That's it; the next time we're on screen, you have to do something too."
Now lounging casually with his arms behind his head, the Kiheitai governor is unthreatening as he agrees with a gleam in his eye. "We'll all make fun of him."
"But guys…" Sakamoto whines.
"Reveal the secrets of his scars, too," Gintoki adds teasingly.
"For the last time, I don't have a scar on my ass, it's on my hip and has nothing to do with Mount Fuji, it's just a bunch of fucking swirls and stupid Zura bandaged it and.."
He trails off when he hears Gintoki's soft, rumbling laughter followed by Tatsuma's hearty one. Katsura, having finished his conversation on the phone and caught the last half of his tirade, joins in, his eyes crinkling, and it takes a few seconds to sink in that the bastards are laughing at him.
He has half a mind to snap at them, but it's thinly veiled fondness that he smirks back with. "Idiots," he exhales, and when was the last time his chest had felt so light?
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Halfway across the city, a glasses stand is having quite the breakdown. "DONDAKE?!" He screams, almost breaking down the door of the Yorozuya Gin-chan in his hysterical state of mind.
Kagura is reclining in Gintoki's usual seat. At Shinpachi's dramatic appearance, she flicks a booger in his direction. "What're you doing, Shinpachi? You'll scare away all the customers that want to come in and request for Gura-san's assistance-aru."
"Forget the customers! Otsuu-chan's in trouble!" Shinpachi cries. He's so distraught that the glasses are drooping down on its stand, and that at least makes gets Kagura's attention.
"Otsuu-chan's in trouble? Is it kidnappers? It's kidnappers, isn't it? What are we waiting for, let's go fight them! Gura-san is here!" Kagura jumps to her feet and is already halfway to the door in her haste. "Where is she, Shinpachi? Where are they keeping her?"
When the glasses remain immobile, Kagura's voice quiets and the next words come tentatively. "…Shinpachi? Otsuu-chan's not dead, right?"
Trembling, Shinpachi raises a finger to the battered television in the room. "Turn it on, channel 8," he rasps out, and Kagura fears for the worst.
The screen is filled with a giant ranking board. They tune in just in time to hear the host say, "And the newcomers to the Edo music scene, Houkago Happy Hour, have finally surpassed Terakado Tsuu in sales to take the number one spot on Billboard Edo!"
1. First Love – Houkago Happy Hour
2. Your Mother's Second Cousin's Third Cousin Once Removed's Girlfriend is a Gumiho – Terakado Tsuu
Shinpachi doesn't register anything else after that as he slumps to the ground in a dead faint; whether from the shock or from Kagura's Yato-strength whack on his skull, we'll never know.
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.
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"Here." A cold pressure presses against the side of Takasugi's neck. It hadn't been much of a surprise as he'd recognized the weight of the strides that had been taken and knew exactly who it was that now stood behind him, but he humours the other man anyway.
Half turning to the side of his good eye, he glances up past blue-and-white swirls to look at the man in question, whose insufferable red eyes question him back.
"You bought me a phone. I don't want to owe you any favours, so take it."
Takasugi reaches up. It's a bottle of Yakult.
"That's a cheap price for a phone," he mutters, but opens it anyway. Truth be told, he was mildly surprised. When you give anything of value to Gintoki, even under the premise of lending it, you don't expect to get any of it back. The chilled, tarty sweetness of the drink clears his mind as he downs it in a single gulp.
"Sheesh, still burning through these things so fast," Gintoki mock-sighs as he settles on the ground beside him. They're just within the fence of the factory's perimeter and the stars are out. "And I spent my parfait money on you, you ingrate. Had to buy this off one of Zura's underlings. Man, we made so much money, but Zura won't let me touch any of it until he gets back the Joui funds Bakamoto wasted on those drinks. It wasn't even my fault," he whines.
For a while, neither of them speak. It's a companionable silence that envelops them now, just them and the stars and the empty bottle of Yakult. It feels like the war and yet what sits between them is peace. The demon at his side quells the demon lurking within. Such a disquieting thought makes him chuckle tonelessly, and he feels the Shiroyasha's gaze snap to him.
No, the Shiroyasha is dead. It's Gintoki; his claws have dulled, or he'd thought they had, but time and time again the other proves him wrong.
"Well," Gintoki says, slowly standing up and stretching, "It's late, and I have to get back to my kids." He holds a hand up in a lazy farewell gesture as he walks away without another word, having already bid goodnight to the other two idiots.
Takasugi watches him go. If there's one thing he is envious of, it is Gintoki's ability to keep on moving forward with not a single backwards glance.
(And his height, but we're in the middle of a serious moment here, damn it! You thought 'height', didn't you. Don't lie.)
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.
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"Eh? Shinpachi's sleeping over today?" The teen was passed out on the couch, a pile of blankets dumped unceremoniously on top of him. Gintoki tucks his feet into the blankets as he passes.
"Haphuhumumahu," explains Kagura through a mouth full of toothpaste.
"Ah, I see," Gintoki nods in understanding. He reaches out to mess up Kagura's hair to chide, "Don't talk with your mouth full," but he's soon brushing his own teeth and talking the whole time.
[Omits lines of unintelligible dialogue.]
Finally, he draws open the door to his room, sliding it shut once inside, and is in the middle of changing into the light yukata he sleeps in when he's greeted by a probably vengeful, definitely one-eyed ghost hovering on his windowsill.
He screams.
.
.-.-.
/end part three
Lots of cameos this time around. I'm on a personal side-quest to include (or at least mention/name-drop) as many characters of the cast as possible, mwahaha.
As always, please do review :D - and thanks for reading.
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coming up next… this time including a cryptic haiku, dammit- look how poetic I am!
And this is what happens when I write author notes half asleep.
The skies are parting:
The heavens see all.
This time they will come to judge,
Students of Shouyou.
What could this mean? And what is a ghost doing in Gintoki's room? Is it even a ghost? What will be the fate of our silver-haired samurai? Will he survive the apparition's attack—no, will he survive Kagura's attack after waking her up with his banshee-rivalling scream?
Find out in the next installment!
-06/23/14