Be Careful When Shopping Online

by loopdedoop

"Always look forward. Know your part, put your all into it, and trust your band members to keep up with you. As long as you're still standing on the stage performing, we all are." In which the Joui 4 put aside their differences (sort of) and form a (girl) band. Follow Edo's hottest new band as they revolutionize (destroy) Edo's music scene! [Joui4, Takagin, Ensemble Cast]

4. Idols are different people off camera

Tada. It's been a while. To make up for it, this chapter is frickin loooooong. Lots of scrolling awaits.

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part four. Idols are different people off camera

.-.-.

As a child, Sakata Gintoki had a rather high-pitched voice. All little boys did, really, which is part of the reason why the roles of young boys are generally given to female voice actors.

Now, for a bit of backstory: there was a weekly tradition at Shouyou-sensei's little village-side school where the children would gather 'round at night and share ghost stories. Each week, it would be a different person's turn to tell a story combining both hearsay and imagination. Everyone always looked forward to them, and you can imagine it was a great honour to have one's ghost story acknowledged by all of the other students for being the spookiest yet.

This had been in place before Gintoki's arrival and subsequent enrolment at the school. The first week he was there, his nosy classmate Zura (though he was only known as Katsura then) had pulled him along to join the event in a darkened room, and frankly most of the boys there were more on edge due to the strange silver-haired creature's presence than the story about undead space monsters named Stefan eating all of the nmaibo in space.

It had been horrifying to young Gintoki, though, after he was told that Stefan would be eating dango after depleting the galaxy's nmaibo. He let loose a shrill, long scream that even woke Shouyou-sensei, and Katsura's haunting story had had to be cut short.

Nevertheless, Gintoki was introduced to all sorts of ghouls over the next few weeks, and though he'd learned to muffle his screams, no one could say that they ever expected the rumoured corpse-eating demon to scare so easily by stories about spirits. It was a trait that evidently carried to today, and along with it the pitch of his screams never diminished even as his voice deepened through puberty. And clearly all of this is pointless exposition to waste three hundred words while leading back to the point of the story we reached last time.

Gintoki's scream is every bit the same as the ones in Takasugi's most distant memories. Never change—those had been Zura's words as they fought against him on the Kiheitai decks, and Takasugi had scoffed at those ironic words. Don't change? Takasugi was not the one who had deserted the Joui movement; he himself had not once wandered from the vision of his initial goal. They'd simply been aiming for different things since the very beginning. Zura had always held naïve ideals in the spacey head of his. And meanwhile, Gintoki—

"Oi, your body is wide open," Takasugi comments evenly at the body sticking out of the futon for which Gintoki had hastily dived and currently had his head burrowed into. The distinctly one-eyed, definitely alive man swallows a sigh and ponders where he'd placed his pipe. His random dramatic appearances were always punctuated with the dramatic exhale of smoke, but he'd probably left the pipe at Zura's earlier.

A pity. He feels almost naked without it. Almost as naked as Gintoki, who was very naked indeed.

T-that voice… "Taka..sugi?" Gintoki pokes his head back out from under the covers, and sure enough it's his childhood rival sitting on the windowsill. Not like it could have been anything else. It certainly couldn't have been a g-g-ghost. Those unscientific things don't exist. Obviously.

"Yo."

There were many things Gintoki wanted to say at that moment. Something along the lines of, "What do you think you're doing, showing up in someone's room in the middle of the night with such a scary face?! Haven't you ever heard of knocking, aah? Don't 'Yo' me, bastard!"

The pounding on his door prevents him from going on the rant. "Gin-chan, what's happening?" seeps Kagura's sleep-laden voice through the screens. She's much too sleepy to think about tacking on her accent, so the result is Japanese more perfect than Gintoki's ever heard it. "Are you doing dirty things in there? Insolent child!" she cries, repeating one of the cool-sounding phrases from the Thursday evening soap opera, "Mommy's going to break down your door! HI-YAAAAA!"

With no time to spare, Gintoki reaches out to grab a mauve sleeve and tugs it down harshly. A body topples forward, having been taken by surprise; Gintoki shoves it into his futon with little resistance and then clambers in himself just as the door breaks away from its hinges.

Kagura's a bulldozing tornado, a Tasmanian Devil™ knockoff made in China that ferociously sweeps through Gintoki's bedroom just the same. There was no stopping her on a rampage when she was out for blood. Incidentally, she had been having a gory dream about beating her stupid elder brother's face in, and now that she had been awoken from it she had to beat in someone else's.

"Gin-chaaaaaaan," she shrieks, punctuating every extra 'a' with a heavy pummel to her father figure's face before he can even get a word in. "There was blood everywhere! Like this," a heavy blow to the left cheek sends forth a warm spray of crimson; "and this," a center hit that knocks his head into the floorboards; "and my blood was pumping like Pulp Fiction! And—HAAH!"

The last hit crushes an unexpected spot. Kagura strikes the closest Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon on pure instinct honed from lots of practice with First Division Captains, which under the ball of blankets happens to belong to the wrong target.

To his credit, Takasugi doesn't even flinch. He's thrown away such physical ties to being alive like the feeling of pain, so it… doesn't… hurt… one… bit. He instead whams an elbow into where he knows the other Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon lay, on the body pressed snugly in his side.

The futon really wasn't meant for two people. And it stunk of curry. A ticked-off Takasugi (...you know, more ticked off than normal) drives his elbow in deeper, and Gintoki's second scream of the night echoes into Kabukichou and beyond without so much as skipping a beat that Kagura doesn't notice anything amiss.

Bloodlust temporarily sated, the young Yato easily calms back down. She sweetly wipes the blood on her hands onto Gintoki's pillowcase. "Goodnight, Gin-chan," she calls on her way out of the room, and closes the door like a timid girl who'd had a nightmare and was going back to her room after being comforted by her doting guardian rather than having pounded said guardian's head into the panels.

Takasugi throws the covers off of him and regards the closed door with faint interest. "She's her brother's mirror image."

"Ah, right, you've got the other one now," Gintoki nods slowly, wincing as he touches the many bumps on his head. Thankfully, Kagura assault hadn't reached his eyes; swollen black eyes were such a pain to deal with. Now for his other, more grievous injury… sitting up is painful, so he flops back onto his futon and swings his arms around a bit. "I've got to admit, I never thought I'd see the day you take a kid under your care."

"Care?" Takasugi rolls the word gingerly around his mouth, unwilling to melt the frost. "We're carpoolers on a road trip to hell. The moment he decides to get off, our alliance ends. If he rigs my car, his life ends. There is no room for care."

He's briefly surprised when Gintoki's body trembles, face turned and giggles muffled into his soiled pillowcase. When he lifts up his head, wine-red eyes finding green in the dark, there's still an easy grin on his face; blinding. Stupid. Why did Gintoki still look at him with camaraderie in his eyes?

"Man, I see your analogies are still shit. Please, don't even bother." Gintoki is slowly sitting up now, reaching for the yukata he'd dropped in his panic earlier.

Takasugi turns away; the moon is bright outside the window he'd come from. There's a rustling somewhere, some grunting, which means that Gintoki is finally tying his obi. His keen eye hadn't missed the scars adorning the perm-head's body earlier under the faint moonlit glow. Some were immediately recognizable, like the jagged one on his lower back from mischievous days in their childhood or the half-faded one the shape of a star from an amanto weapon during the final months of the War. He had been beyond furious upon hearing the chaotic reports of 'The Shiroyasha's been injured at the front line!' and when they brought him in on the makeshift stretcher and it looked like he was already—-

Gintoki sits alive in front of him ten years later, clumsily fixing his yukata and no longer a brother-in-arms. The jarring images quicken Takasugi's breath; he refocuses his gaze to the full moon to regain an earlier train of thought, wishing again for his pipe and the reassuring haze of tobacco on his senses.

Crisscrossing those pale scars he could recognize were fresh ones that he could not, ranging from the faintest to the deepest that tore muscle and organs apart. How, he wonders, could a lazy bum who'd abandoned his cause in favour of taking on odd jobs and pachinko still get into this much fucking trouble? Granted, as the Main Antagonist, he had been the catalyst for a number of events leading to the protagonist's injury, but he really couldn't be blamed for over half of the idiotic things Gintoki got himself involved with. Gintoki would be dead, and the world would be dead, but that would only be after Takasugi was done with it himself.

Yes, that was his only concern. Dying earlier was unforgivable, like knowing you have a full fridge stocked with Yakult in the galley of his ship and, after a distasteful day at work (plotting to destroy the world and all that pizzazz), you find that the galley had been blasted during the last run-in with some Bakufu grunts and the Yakult stash was in smithereens. What was he to drink for the rest of the night?

Who was he to settle the score with in the decisive battle upon Earth's last moments? The only way to achieve a complete victory to satisfy a beast that would finally quiet, and maybe then Takasugi Shinsuke could find peace. Would Sensei welcome him then?

"You know," Gintoki starts softly, stops, and tries to start again. "You should give yourself more credit. For someone who has a patent applied for 'I simply destroy'… you've saved more people than you know."

Takasugi whips his head around with speed to cause whiplash, intensity rushing through an emerald eye and a disbelieving turn of the mouth as his humane side is shockingly brought to light:

"Let's see, there are the workers at Yakult factories, and the managers at Yakult factories, and the CEO and COO and Directors of the Yakult corporation, and you could probably count the NEET sons freeloading at home off the family's wealth and all the servants and butlers and chauffeurs they hire and Mayoratis they buy."

Crunch, crunch.

"Why is my kintama in your hands?" Gintoki pales upon realization and tries to scramble forward only to lose his balance from the missing limb. He catches himself and, remembering Kagura, lowers his voice to fierce whispers. "You knocked them off! They came off again, oi! Handle the main character's soul (balls) with care! They're practically the title of the show! The point of the show! If the anime doesn't return with another season, it'll be on your psychotic head—-"

Snap.

Gintoki throws his hands up in surrender as blood begins to seep through fabric in his most treasured region. "Okay, okay! What are you even here for? All you've done here is wake Kagura and crush my balls! If you wanna fight, let's take this outside. We'll handle it ball-less man to ball-less man."

"Shut up, idiot." Exhaling harshly, Takasugi withdraws a small object from his sleeve and tosses it onto the mess of blankets on the floor along with Gintoki's prized, and now rather bruised, jewels.

In a nonsensical moment, Gintoki panics over the possibility of a bomb; but Takasugi doesn't move away and Gintoki is sure he's not nearly desperate enough to get himself caught in the explosion, too. Easing tensed shoulders, he quickly reattaches little Gin-san between his legs and makes a surprised noise in his throat when he sees the cell phone. Ah, that was his.

"Quit leaving things behind. Zura sent me to tell you there's a variety show in three days… Fix up your face before then."

And Takasugi pushes up from one knee to stand, teetering a bit as if in hesitation. Whatever hesitation is smoothed over in the next second, but when he makes for the window he finds his left sleeve held back and one word halting his steps.

"Stay."

Incredulous, Takasugi turns.

"It's dark outside and now that Kagura turned you into a girl down there too, you shouldn't walk alone in the dark, you know?"

Gintoki brings his bokutou to meet the open blade midair. They strain a bit, neither sides relenting, forces equal and cancelling. "So quick to turn to violence, Takasugi-kun," Gintoki chides, grinning just a bit maniacally. That was the two of them, always clashing and each trying to get into the other's skin as annoyingly as possible.

"It seems you have a death wish," Takasugi sneers back. "I could slice you apart right here, right now."

"You could try," concedes Gintoki, leaning in, "Or you could sleep over." With a sudden sweep of his foot timed with his outlandish suggestion, he manages to distract Takasugi enough to disarm him, both swords falling to a clatter on the floor. "C'mon, I have an extra futon and you're a sucker for sleepovers."

Gintoki wasn't sure about the words coming out of his mouth himself. It was a stupid idea, but he was a spontaneous sort of guy who pulled ideas out of his ass and rolled with them (or he was just channeling Sorachi Hideaki now) and there was a strange pounding in his soul that told him he would regret it later if he didn't at least try now. Takasugi was hesitating today in a way he probably wouldn't hesitate again, and to hell with regrets. Gintoki already had enough of them to last several lifetimes and he wasn't about to pile on another if he could help it.

Takasugi straightens and watches his sword clink and roll to a stop just beyond his immediate reach. "Not afraid I'll suffocate you in your sleep?"

"Hah, you're still a hundred years too early to catch me off guard in my sleep."

He's not so guileless to think he could reform the bastard; one day they would stand atop Edo Terminal and duke it out to the death. That part at least was written in the script. That was as official as it could get, setting their fate in stone, and Gintoki can accept that.

He heaves the spare futon onto the floor and the pillow at the person he's known for more than half of his life, and tries to picture an alternative world where they could duke it out in the bedroom instead.

It's a foolish thought he immediately dismisses as he settles into his futon.

(Sometimes the kid with the pair of bored olive eyes that never focused on lectures but focused on Sensei every time visited him in dreams. "Why didn't you stop Sensei?" He would ask unforgivingly. "Why didn't you stop me? Why did you leave when I needed you, Sakata Gintoki?"

And then the boy would morph into the adult he'd become, a puppet of unquenchable revenge. "Watch me destroy the world we were supposed to protect together."

Gintoki wakes up with Takasugi's soulless smile still haunting behind heavy eyelids.)

"Your pillow reeks. And your room reeks. Screw that, your whole apartment reeks."

Clearly, the other thing that hadn't gone down over the years either was the difficulty in impressing the green-eyed boy.

"Also, get me pajamas too," he demands, probing the lump that was Gintoki with his foot as he sits down. Staying over for the night wouldn't be too bad, he supposes. He was only considering it because his ship was docked at the port on the other side of Edo. It had nothing to do with the fact that maybe he did enjoy sleepovers more than he let on, sensing another person's warm and kind presence without needing sight, nothing to do with how he may have deliberately fashioned his quarters on the Kiheitai's ship to be expansive and cold and empty to drive the memory away.

"Get it yourself, princess," Gintoki retorts, voice slightly muffled from under the blankets. He sticks a hand out from the side to gesture vaguely at the direction of the closet before hurriedly bringing it back into the warmth. "Close the window while you're at it. And by the way, people want to read your monologues as much as they want to eat a Hijikata Dog Food Special, so stop pointlessly extending the word count and go to sleep if you're not going to entertain readers."

Gintoki rolls around, his back facing his fuming guest who snaps, "Awfully close with the Bakufu's dogs now, aren't you?"

He lets those words ring in the silence of the night. Gintoki doesn't turn back, doesn't see the anger and spite written on the other's face, but hears it just the same.

"They're decent people," he says, eventually.

Takasugi's reaction is entirely expected. Gintoki can hear the disgusted scoffing and knows the rant that follows by heart; the Takasugi in his mind and the Takasugi in his room join voices that echo in dissonance. "Disappointing. What a disgrace, the great Shiroyasha made friends with the Shinsengumi's spineless, inept Commander and the unskilled and equally-incompetent Vice-Commander who—"

"—Reminds me of you."

…Okay, so Gintoki hadn't actually meant to say that part aloud. The similarities had been there, and Gintoki did think about it sometimes when he annoyed Oogushi-kun here and there and found a spark of an old flame reignited. They were nowhere near similar enough to be replacements for each other, but the banter falling into familiar territories of food fetishes and stubborn competition did bring food for thought.

You know, things like what would a Takasugi Shinsuke living an ordinary life in Edo look like? What would he do if he ran out of toilet paper, or if Yakult were placed on the top shelf in Oedo Mart? Of course, the latter would be due to Gintoki getting a job there just to screw with him, but the possibilities were there and Gintoki would pay 300 yen to see it.

As it was, Gintoki doesn't think he'll even see the leader of the Kiheitai again, who was looking like he'd get up and leave once more.

He was also looking like he was having another monologue in his head to convince himself to leave, because, well, he could just leave. Yes, he could. This was a shitty sleepover with a shitty host that couldn't be bothered to actually host his guest, and once this fact spread Gintoki would quickly be banned from everyone else's sleepovers. Not to mention the whispers behind his back at school and the plummet of his social status, and eventually he would be banned from everyone's birthday parties and Christmas parties and then he'd come crying to Takasugi, who was Heartless and Hardcore and would laugh in his face—

"You're the one who will be banned, Takasugi-kun," Gintoki interrupts, because this wasn't a 3-Z AU. "Who talks about this depressing shit at sleepovers? You're totally ruining the mood. At the very least, you could paint your nails or talk about the latest dramas. You terrorists have nothing better to do than watch Korean dramas, right?"

"Don't lump me in with Zura. My radical Kiheitai go through rigorous training every day," its leader boasts, rummaging through the closet for a pair of pajamas that didn't smell like red curry. Or yellow curry, he gripes, tossing another one aside. "We never avoid tall grass on our way to extract prize money from the Heavens Arena. Just how much curry do you eat?"

Gintoki hums, still trying to find the comfortable sleeping position of the night. "Kagura eats all the curry and Sadaharu knocks it all over the place, and then when Shinpachi does the laundry, the whole load of laundry smells ends up smelling like curry," he answers with a wide yawn. "I get one bite after cooking for an hour. An hour! Okay, back to my turn: how do you handle that gluttonous appetite?"

"When did we start taking turns," Takasugi deadpans. He looks at the unchanging face of the moon outside and closes the window in one resolute move.

Lying down, watching what would be the ceiling in complete blackness, he questions why he doesn't leave.

"I'm waaaiting," Gintoki whines, rolling over to peer at the lump beside him but finding that without the moonlight, he couldn't see a single thing in front of him. "Five more seconds and I get to ask an extra question, 'kay. Five, two, one—"

Takasugi grunts and finally shuts his eye. "Not happening. Kamui came in a package deal with his mother and he cooks a lot of rice. Did you actually sleep with that MADAO?"

"Don't even. Mention. That. Why the butterflies?"

"Pass. Is that Yakult I smell in your fridge?"

"No, you're dreaming. Are you sleepwalking, oi, get back here."

Neither would acknowledge this fragile night come morning. Nothing would change. How could it? There was a script written already. A resolution.

But in staying, something in the universe shifted.

.

.

.

Shinpachi blinks. Ah, had he fallen asleep..? And with his glasses still on his face, too. Luckily, he'd kept relatively still while he slept and they hadn't been warped out of shape.

He looks up when the door to Gin-san's room slides open. Gintoki shuffles out with the grace of a drunkard but Shinpachi has been with him long enough to tell when he's actually drunk. The whole apartment would smell like vomit, for one thing.

"Oh, Pattsuan, you're up."

As Gintoki makes his way to his usual chair, the light in the room reveals the heavy shadows under his eyes. Shinpachi deigns not to comment on the dried blood crusted over the silver curls on the back of his head. "Couldn't sleep last night, Gin-san?"

"Yeah. Something like that," mumbles the dishevelled samurai, muffling back a yawn. "Ah. The double issue of JUMP comes out today. Make some brunch for when I get back, 'mkay? See ya later."

Gintoki raises a hand in weak farewell and sets for the door. Oh no you don't, Shinpachi thinks. His glasses frost over in the opaque megane mode that all megane characters seem to have when they turn serious, and suddenly he, well, he certainly can't see anything in front of him anymore.

But he can still see the single most important thing. He clasps his hand around Gintoki's wrist and stops him cold in his tracks.

"No you're not, Gin-san." His voice rings true and clear. "Have you seen the fridge? It's emptier than the hair follicles on Kagura-chan's father's head. We're going on a job."

.

Later, when our trusty Yorozuya trio are hammering on various parts of someone's unfortunate roof, Shinpachi pulls Kagura aside.

"Hasn't Gin-san been acting weird lately? He's been finding excuses to go out somewhere a lot these past few weeks." He angles his hand to semi-cover his mouth in order to whisper as covertly as he can. He ends up looking like an obviously shady character instead. "Kagura-chan, have you noticed anything odd? Look, the back of his head is all bloody."

"Ah, that," Kagura nods in affirmation. "The back of your head is like that too-aru."

"Wha—" Shinpachi feels the matted hair and almost loses his footing. "H-hey! When did this happen? Something tells me I don't want to remember... A-anyway, don't you think Gin-san looks more like a zombie than usual? His eyes are supposed to be a dead fish's, but if they get deader they'll be rotting."

"Dead?" Kagura echoes. "Doesn't he look too happy? He's smiling with the hammer and he's humming some happy annoying tune. You should worry about me, Shinpachi. If I have to listen to that tune the whole day I'll claw your ears out-aru."

"That's the thing! It's creepy! Why is he acting so cheery when his eye bags make him look like a mascot character? And why would you claw out my ears? Claw out your own if you don't want to listen to it!"

Kagura kicks away a loose roof shingle and it jogs her memory of the night before. The exhilaration, the blood… "Gin-chan was making nasty noises in his room last night. I think I heard someone else's voice but I couldn't find anyone when I busted my way through. Do you think he was with someone?"

"E-eh? You don't think… Gin-san…" Highly terrorizing mental images fly through Shinpachi's mind as he stammers out, "And they did… at the Yorozuya…"

He thinks about the laundry basket back at the apartment and blushes fifty shades of red.

Kagura nods sagely. "Mhm. This is a woman's intuition-aru."

Shinpachi opens his mouth to do his straight man routine thing; the clearing of a throat causes the two of them to turn.

Lightly twirling a hammer that was probably going to fly off and hit someone soon, Gintoki looks down on his two minions with mock condemnation and drawls, "I'm not paying you two to stand around and start rumours, you know."

"You don't pay us anyway!" Shinpachi hollers. "Do your own laundry!"

"And I won't pay any of you if you don't get to work this instant!" The middle-aged and balding man who was their employer of the day and who owned the unfortunate roof they were standing on decides to speak up. "If you're going to play around, get off my roof first and let me fire you—"

So they get off his roof in the most painless and efficient way possible, i.e. there is no also no roof anymore.

Well, you know how much convertible cars cost. It's an incredible upgrade.

"Please come again," Shinpachi leaves as an altruistic parting message to the now hysterical man without a roof. He would probably feel bad about it the next day, but even Shinpachis need to blow off steam somehow. I mean, you know, the possibility of Gin-san having a secret lover visiting him at night… that's enough to throw anyone off, right?

("Hey, Kagura, hasn't Shinpachi been acting oddly?" He hears Gin-san quietly ask as they walk to the location of their next job. "Look, he back of his head is all bloody."

"He wants a secret lover, aru. He's a dirty bastard," conspires the queen of Kabukicho and goddess of libel.

She gets a whack to the head, piling on the number of head injuries in this fic. "Where did you learn those words from, you dirty child? Don't be needlessly rude. Only the glasses are dirty."

Shinpachi walks faster.)

.

.

.

Their reintroduction to Edo's small screen television is swift.

"Welcome to your favourite variety show, Super Edo! I'm Hanano, Edo's favourite and only host because the author was too lazy to create original characters to do the job. You're all in for a treat today, as our guests are the charismatic Houkago Happy Hour who has captured Edo's hearts by storm!"

The live audience claps, banners waving energetically in the crowd as the four ladies emerge from backstage. They're dressed in once-trendy plaid blouses and skinny jeans that some of them pull off better than others, but people see what they want to see. One by one, they take their places and begin introducing themselves the way they'd discussed just prior to coming out.

Katsura goes first. "Good evening, future compatriots of Edo! I'm Zurako, the Leader and in charge of the sexy hair in the group," he smiles, gracefully flipping his hair to let it ripple down his shoulders in a smooth waterfall motion that enraptures everyone watching. A third of the crowd is already on their feet and security isn't going to offer much aid, not when the Vice-Commander that usually barks the orders out is immersed in the crowd himself.

Damn it, Zura, hair was clearly supposed to be mine, Gintoki groans inwardly. Because natural perms were superior, right? The agreement they'd reached was that each of them would claim a unique and attractive 'role' in the group's dynamics at a first-come, first-served basis during their introductions.

Well, Gintoki would just have to pick something else, then. He did have a never-ending list of good qualities to choose from, after all. The main character of a Shounen Jump manga has the power of friendship, effort, victory...!

"Everyone, I'm Paako!" Gintoki waves with a grin. "I'm in charge of the, uh, sexy-sounding voice in Houkago. I'm voiced by Sugita Tomokazu on helium, darlings!"

He passes the microphone along as the audience swoons and Sacchan's unmistakeable screams are heard from somewhere in the back. He can't even shake off his amazement at how she can still manage to stalk him when he's, well, like this. Did Sugitan need to inhale more helium, huh? Was that it? A stalker has truly never been a more formidable obstacle until now.

They were going to need to step up their game. Next on the self-introductions, we have—Sakamoto!

Oh, perhaps they were doomed from the start.

Sakamoto continues with a magnitude of voice that carries easily over the incessant screaming. "Tatsuko here! My specialty is the sexy brains of the group. With an MBA in Business Intelligence and fifteen years of intergalactic industry experience on my resume, I hope to start a long-lasting relationship with all of you. Please treat me well."

There was also the fact that our lively group cannot withstand two minutes without interjecting their lively commentary.

"What's so sexy about not having a brain?" Gintoki angles his head and stage whispers to the Katsura standing beside him.

"Probably the same as how they think not wearing bloomers or not eating is sexy," Katsura whispers back, always up for housewife-style gossip. "I'm wearing bloomers right now. Want to see?"

Unbeknownst to our conversing Joui on stage, the microphone was picking up all of their hushed tones and amplifying it with quite the clarity.

(The Demon Vice-Commander is immediately knocked out with blood spurting uncontrollably from his nose. B-b-bloomers, he thinks, and conjures up an admirably censored picture just before his consciousness ebbs away.)

"What are bloomers? Who wears bloomers anymore? Are you trying to destroy man's fantasies?" Gintoki cries in outrage. "Real women wear dainties."

(Another section of the audience goes down, bathed in a sea of their own blood. This is by far the Jouishishi's most effective attack.)

Think of payday tomorrow think of payday tomorrow think of— "Oh, that's surprising!" Hanano exclaims loudly, trying to sound impressed and faltering when she realizes, "Wait, just how old are you, Tatsuko-san?"

"Ahahaha, haha, hahahahaha, it's rude to ask for a woman's age like that," Sakamoto brushes it off with a long laugh, "And it's rude to talk about a woman's knickers on air, Paako. Or their panties, no matter if they wear thongs, g-strings, v-strings—"

"You're talking about them right now, Tatsuko-san!" The host snaps, unable to control herself any longer. "The last member of Houkago, please introduce yourself."

Takasugi steps into the limelight. He briefly runs through his character profile in his head and, in a moment of epiphany, reaches a stunning realization that "I'm Shinsuko, standing at one hundred and seventy centimetres tall. I have the sexy height."

A good three minutes later, our Joui are still bent over in hysterics, much to poor Hanano's chagrin. There's a pillar on set some feet away, and it's sturdy and drawing her in as she thinks about how blissful it would feel to bash her head against it repeatedly.

"Pftahahaha he admits he's at a sexy height—as a woman—" Gintoki wheezes between high-pitched giggles, and dissolves into another fit of them before he can get out anything else.

Katsura, having lost his usual composure as he rolls around on the floor, is unable to muster the strength to chide Gintoki about using the proper pronouns or worry about being overheard.

"Do not forget that in this arc, we are women. I am tall," Takasugi huffs in response, arms crossed as he grimly scans the audience for signs of laughter there. When he finds everyone looking at him with blazing admiration for his sexy height, he draws up to stand proudly and imposingly. Perhaps there was still a sliver of hope for this broken world, however slight. It should then begin to redeem itself by hearing the last phrase again, so he repeats, "I am tall."

This stunning feeling pounding alive in his veins… how should he begin to describe it? All the short jokes he'd suffered throughout the years… All the jabs at his height he had to endure even from his fans and then all the times his stature was brought up in this story alone… Takasugi, for the sake of the kanji in his name, was not going to let this moment go, any implications about his height in normal situations be damned.

"Stop it—you're killing me," Gintoki cries in an unladylike heap on the floor. "M-my s-s-sides, health me, health me—"

"A leader must be a dignified example on TV," vows Katsura from a similar position; those are tears of steel in his eyes.

Sakamoto is slightly miffed at the change in what their heights meant. Was he the odd one out now? "Oh, let him be, Paako. There are only two or three more chapters to this story anyway, and then he'll go back to using shoe lifts, ahaha-ahaHAhaha."

"Tatsuko-chan, you'll never be able to wear high heels," Takasugi goads. Nothing could bring his mood down today, nothing! Sakamoto, who had always been their tallest, was at his all-time low today.

Oh, what an agitating little shit. "Why you agitating little..."

"MOVING ON!" Hanano shoves her way to the front to scream over the muddled crowd in front and the disorderly guests behind her. "IT'S HIGH TIME FOR A COMMERCIAL BREAK, DON'T YOU THINK? HELLO, BEAUTIFUL PILLAR. LET ME BORROW YOU FOR TWO SECONDS."

"..H-hey, Hanano-chan? Watch where you're swinging that arou—"

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"Kagura-chan, is it really okay to be snooping around like this?" Shinpachi hesitates by the entrance to Gintoki's room. "Shouldn't we just ask Gin-san directly? This feels like an invasion of privacy, no, it is an invasion of privacy."

It doesn't stop him from looking around when Kagura shoves him into the room. "Man up, Shinpachi. We have to do this before Gin-chan gets back. You look over there and I'll sit down here and supervise you-aru."

"Why should I be the one searching? This is your idea," he grumbles. He admits that he is kind of curious, so he'll just poke around for a bit. That shouldn't really count as a crime. He would only look at whatever's lying out in the open, like the half-unrolled futon by the wall and the strands of hair all over the place. Gin-san sure has a high rate of hair loss. And the darker strands of hair by the window from—

Wait. Darker strands?

Shinpachi gathers two suspicious strands of hair and holds it up to the light. It shines a smooth, rich, luscious, undeniable purple.

Purple.

He turns slightly to see Kagura stare wide-eyed at his fingertips.

"Kagura-chan, the only two people in Gintama with darker purple hair are Otsuu-chan and Takasugi-san, right?"

"..It could be a new character," suggests Kagura. "The author could have created an original character, yes?"

A new… original… character…

The idea slowly sinks in.

In the next second, Shinpachi finds himself being strangled with Kagura shaking him back and forth vehemently. "What if Gin-chan did it with a Mary Sue?" she cries, very much distraught, "I don't want a Mary Sue mami, Shinpachiiiii!"

Shinpachi has his own troubles to worry about. "Otsuu-chan's the only girl with medium-to-dark purple hair in the entire cast of Gintama. As the captain of Otsuu's Imperial Guard, I won't allow anyone else to overlap with her character!"

"What should we do, Shinpachi?"

Otsuu's number one fan touches the bridge of his glasses and they flash with the seriousness to suit this very dire situation. "We should do some more reconnaissance first and get to know our enemy. They must have left behind more hints. Search the room! Search every nook and cranny and leave no stone unturned!"

"Hai, hai!" Kagura whoops in a battle cry. Her fist launches in the air and strikes Shinpachi in a harsh uppercut that sends him stumbling back.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Shinpachi. You take orders from me. Search the room!" she orders, and proceeds to take apart half the room.

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I love my job. I love my job. I love my— "Welcome back! In the second segment, we'll begin the highlight of our show, the groundbreaking, heart-pounding, bloodstained Test of 007. Are you ready, Edo? Are you ready, Houkago Happy Hour?"

The temperature in the studio drops several degrees as a collective gasp shudders through the audience.

The revived Hijikata, bloodied like he'd gone through a dozen battles, takes a drag from his cigarette to still his nerves. "I-Impossible," he breathes. "To be tackling 007 already. Zurako-chan…"

Just what was this dreaded test? Should Gin-san be afraid? It didn't involve things like g-ghosts, right...? Because he doesn't believe in unscientific things like that. Watching ghosts scare other people when he obviously knew they were faked wouldn't be very fun. Yeah.

Hanano claps for attention. Every fan and every following in the crowd comes to a dead silence. In every room, every family, every television tuning into the show, not a single sound can be heard over Hanano's eerie tone from the speakers.

"Tremble where you stand, Houkago. Together, you may have the height, the brains, the voice and the wigs, but tonight we will be testing… your Bonds."

Gintoki and Takasugi exchange an impassive glance. Right, they hadn't yet designated who would take the straight man position while they were posing as a girl group. After learning from last time's disaster, they should be as prepared and organized as possible. A game of rock-paper-scissors should settle it, then.

A stealthy game held behind their backs later, Gintoki yells, with a fresh intake of helium, "That's lame! So lame! What are you doing in Bond's name?"

"Ah, it's not wigs, it's Zurako."

"All you're doing is tacking on a -ko now, ahahaha."

Katsura gives an airy shrug in his brown-haired bandmate's direction. "Silence, six-foot."

The grin drops from Sakamoto's face and he gasps, heavily wounded. "Five-foot-eleven! I thought we were friends, Zurako. How could you side with Shinsuko and betray me?"

He may stand out amongst the ladies of Gintama, but six-foot women in other shows were regal and eye-catching and he was sure that it would be a pleasure to do business with them. And what if any of the readers are six-foot tall women? Warnings should be inserted, like 'the opinions expressed in this story do not necessarily reflect the views of the author' and 'please flame Takasugi Shinsuke instead' and 'come into Sakamoto's embrace, ahahahaha'.

"Wait a second! I'm the only cool character left, are you guys sure you want to ruin me? The audience wants a cute and normal Tatsuko!"

"Silence, perm." Takasugi, that little bastard, is simpering.

"Yeah, silence, perm," Gintoki quickly jumps into agreement before he realizes he'd just said. "…Hold on, I have permed hair too. Is this considered hitting two birds with one stone? Are you trying for two perms with one stone? You're comparing my dazzling silver with this poop head here?"

"Am I poop head now too, ahaha-haha-HAHAHA?" All former traces of humour vanish as Sakamoto looks from one familiar face to the other and tries to recall the side of the bed he'd woken up on. What exactly did he do wrong today?

"Do not cry, Hanano-dono. You must find strength. Let us do breathing exercises. Everyone, open your textbooks to the Way of the Jouishishi Lesson Forty-Nine. We will have to skip the forty-eight lessons before this, but do not worry if you find it challenging. Practice is key," Katsura says encouragingly. "Now, everyone, let's breathe in. Wheee. Huuuu. Wheee. Huuuu. Wheee."

Gintoki kicks the labouring Katsura aside. "Silence, straight-haired. What kind of lesson is this? What are you teaching the kids? The order is all wrong, all wrong. Breathing should obviously be lesson one."

"That's not the problem here," Hanano interjects faintly. Oh, whatever. The audience still looked like they were enjoying themselves, so perhaps going off the script for a while was acceptable. She'd never really understand it, but even then she had to give the group in front of her the credit they were due. The four of them had charisma oozing out by cement truckloads. The way they could turn heads and dazzle the most hardened of hearts was sheer evidence of their star quality.

Star quality, she thinks, as Shinsuko tilts her head back to down a Yakult with utter grace and Tatsuko leans in to knock it over and it spills on the both of them rather disgracefully. Cue a little brawl. It's a good thing neither of the two are the ones wearing the wigs.

Katsura, having produced a coiled notebook and a pencil, begins to take notes in a flurry. "Ooh, sensei, I'll change that for the next edition of the textbook. I knew I could count on the great Shiropaako. Do you have any more suggestions to make into a third edition, sensei?"

"Who's Shiropaako? I suggest we start splitting the profit from your stupid course 50/50."

"You drive a hard bargain, Paakoyasha. I'll give you 40 percent if you sign all the copies."

"You just revealed my whole alias, didn't you. For 80 percent I'll get Sadaharu to sign them."

"The Shinsengumi are our fans. As fans, they should love every side of their idols, even the terrorist side. Ah, it's a deal, then."

Hands are shaken to seal this win-win deal. Hanano waits until the unruly guests settle down in their seats facing the audience in a row and the author runs out of ways to derail the plot before she continues.

"As I was saying," comes the explanation, "The first game open bracket that was supposed to have started ten paragraphs ago, by the way closed bracket tests your knowledge of each others' thought processes. What would a member of Houkago Happy Hour say in a hypothetical situation? You've each been given a board to write on, and you'll have a minute to write down the answer. A correct answer will get you points. The winner with the most points will get a prize. Are we clear? I'll start with Zurako-san."

She'd won Gintoki over already with the word 'prize'. He leans forward in his chair, spaced a meter away from Katsura on his left and Sakamoto on his right so as to make it hard to reach each others' signs, and gets ready to write whatever idiotic response would surely come out for the long-haired samurai-turned-idol. On Sakamoto's other side, even Takasugi is starting to pay closer attention. You can't tell from looking at his bored do-whatever-you-want stance, but he really is listening intently. The power of third-person omniscient narration tells you this.

"Okay, Zurako-san is in her hometown one day when the walls are breached and a very large and naked human-looking creature peeps over the wall. It's only a matter of time before many more of these creatures come and it turns into a battle for survival of the human race. Zurako-san joins the fight against these creatures and soon she's praised as one of the last hopes for humanity. What is her response?"

Too easy.

Gintoki pops the cap off his marker and starts scribbling already, the response already formulated in his head. That prize was going to be his… or not. His gaze turns serious. From the corner of his eye, he can see that Sakamoto and Takasugi are already writing their answers down with ease.

"Time's up! The three of you writing, please turn over your boards so we can read them," instructs Hanano as the air grows heavy with intensity.

They reveal their signs in unison. The same line is written on all three:

IT'S NOT LAST HOPE FOR HUMANITY, IT'S KATSURA.

"Wow! It seems like the members are all convinced as to Zurako-san's response. Zurako-san, please tell us the correct answer."

Katsura closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself in another anime. The answer was clear. "Ahem. It's not Mikasa, it's Katsura."

"Oi! You're not supposed to actually use character names!" Gintoki turns to their 'leader' on his left in heavy protest.

Peering over, Katsura catches the writing on each of the signs. "Oh, none of you guessed it. I'm hurt. I see now that this is the extent of our Bonds."

"How're we even supposed to guess that? Do you know how many characters there are in there, huh?"

"But only Mikasa gets all the fanboys and body pillows. So I'll be Mikasa."

"But you just said you're not, ha, ahahahaha."

Takasugi tunes out the three morons. He narrows his eye at the small whiteboard in his hands and roughly wipes away the words he'd written down. They'd underestimated Zura, who too was aiming seriously for the prize. If we're all aiming to win… we'll aim to sabotage each other's chances. In that case, the winner will be the one who can sabotage everyone else while accurately reading the underhanded methods the others will use.

This is no ordinary game. It's not about the prize anymore. It's a battle to remain one move ahead on the board. "Keep going," he says, gesturing to Hanano directly. Things were finally heating up.

"Right. So in this round no one got the answer perfectly, but I'll give the three of you 20 points for trying so your fanclub doesn't murder me." Hanano shuffles her cue cards and continues, "We'll now move on to Paako-san's scenario. She is on a grassy hill when a high school boy comes up to her. He stands there, obviously observing Paako-san but not saying a word. His hair sways in the wind."

"What is Paako-san's response? Zurako-san, Tatsuko-san, Shinsuko-san, please start writing."

Takasugi stares blankly at his board. A shoujo setting… huh. Now, the problem was figuring out what Gintoki would say, and then what Gintoki thought they would write down, and then what he thought would throw them off, and then what he thought would throw them off the response that would throw them off—

Never mind. Sakamoto didn't look like he knew what to write, either. On the other hand, Katsura was a cause for concern with his intermittent giggling. Hm.

The clock ticks down for Hanano to announce, "It's time for you to reveal your written signs once again. What do Paako-san's teammates think she'll say?"

HAHAHAHA I DUNNO, reads Tatsuko's board.

GO AWAY I'LL GIVE YOU 300 YEN, is on Shinsuko's.

THE WIND… IS TROUBLED TODAY, goes Katsura.

"Oh! All three of our answers this time around are different, so let's have Paako-san reveal whether any of those are correct."

Somehow, the scenario evokes a feeling of nostalgia in Gintoki's mind. Somewhere, sometime, he'd said these exact words. Emboldened by that, he says the first thing that he can think of. "The wind… is troubled today."

The crowd is elated. "Zurako! Zurako!" they start to chant as Gintoki turns to read what the others had chosen to write down.

"That's 80 points to Zurako-san, who is now in the lead," shouts Hanano, and even through her microphone she can barely be heard beyond the stage.

"What's that even supposed to mean," Takasugi mutters to the side.

Katsura cackles in triumph. "As expected, you common riffraff do not understand. I was cast in the same anime along with Paako. Danshi Koukousei no Nichijouuuuu, OW!"

Scratching behind an ear, Gintoki casually adds, "You only had about three lines, though."

"So that was a seiyuu joke? Do I need to remind you that we're not being voiced right now? No one's going to get the reference, idiots."

"Cease your complaints," Katsura preens, ever the inspiring, uplifting nobleman of dreams. "If you have time to be a sore loser, why not come up with a beautiful answer in the next round?"

"..Why do I feel like you ripped one of my famous lines off, oi."

"The next one is for Tatsuko-san. She's travelling on a grand ship to Mars. What's the first thing she'll say to the Martians when the ship lands?"

AHAHAHAHAHA -Zurako

WHERE AM I -Paako

BLEGHEHZFHESJZCS -Shinsuko

"Ahahahahaha where am I—bleghehzfhesjzcs," Sakamoto wobbles in his seat and throws up as the scenario spins circles in his head. "Blearghhamzeeheaiek, bleeeuhmemks!&*$ %, bregghw—"

"We get the idea, Tatsuko-san." Hanano interrupts quickly before the barf sounds could do more damage. "Next round will be our last, so to make things more exciting I'll tie all of your scores at 100 points. This next scenario will determine the winner. Everyone, are you ready?"

(The crowd resounds in cheers. Paako and Shinsuko, our poor members who have the seats beside the now foul-smelling Tatsuko, each try to push her closer to the other side. Zurako tries to appeal to the loss of her lead in the scores to no avail.)

"Right! If a meteor were to crash into the Earth tomorrow, what would Shinsuko-san say in response to finding out the date of the end of the world?"

So it has come to this, a question on a variety show that hits too close to their reality. Slowly, they flip over to broadcast their answers across Edo.

I'LL START. DRAW TWO -Paako

DRAW FOUR AND CHANGE TO RED -Zurako

TIME-OUT HOW DID YOU GUYS HIDE YOUR CARDS I DON'T HAVE LONG SLEEVES SO I LEFT MINE BACKSTAGE AHAH -Tatsuko

Hanano is making some remark; some rowdier fans are causing a ruckus; Takasugi notices it all and notices none of it at the same time. The end of the world…

…Without him playing a part in its destruction.

"UNO." Takasugi suddenly holds a single card in his hand. "With this last card... I will be the one to dye this rotten world red."

Katsura's lips lift in a soft smile behind the board he's holding up.

"It's a draw four! And with this, Zurako-san will take home the prize, a take-home-all-you-can-carry shopping spree at any participating Oedo Mart."

And with this, Houkago Happy Hour are greeted with a standing ovation. The hearts of otaku everywhere are alight with a newfound love that pops out hearts in their eyes and proclamations from their mouths.

Things like, "She's so cool!"

"Shinsuko-sama! Destroy me!"

"Houkago Happy Hour is really united!"

"I like your hair Zurako-chan!"

"I love your voice Paako-chan!"

"I want your brains Tatsuko-chan! Ah, wait…"

"Isn't this show going a bit overtime? More importantly, Toshi, didn't I hear that girl say she's going to destroy the world? Isn't she a Jouishishi?"

It's up to Hanano again to drive this show home. "We'll be back right after the commercials for the second game and you won't want to miss the action! Next up, Houkago will be… cooking!"

"Huh? I can't hear you over the image of Zurako-chan in an apron, Kondo-san."

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.

A man with a wastebasket on his head steps off the innocuous ship parked at the Terminal. He walks off amongst the lowlifes that infest the city, his gait reflecting the purpose he'd come here for.

"Mukuro or Imai Nobume, your new name does not efface your past responsibility. If I recall, you owe me a little favour I've come to collect."

"Yes, that will do perfectly."

I've come for you, students of Shouyou.

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.-.-.

/end part four

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An update just in time before the next semester of classes begin..

Thanks for the really nice and encouraging reviews, guys. :'D Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wrote a bit too much but I didn't want to cut stuff so I ended up moving some stuff around.. which means I actually have the next chapter partially written already (also because tbh writing the Joui on a variety show is pretty much why I started this fic in the first place), so the next update shouldn't take that long. But uni will kill all of my free time so we'll see...

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coming up next...

"Sensei... itadakimasu."

What cannot be saved, is this variety show, probably.
What cannot be stopped, is Houkago Happy Hour going on variety shows.
What is coming, is a mysterious man with bad hat fashion.
Be Careful When Shopping Online, Part 5, I Come Up With Titles At The End So I Don't Have One Ready Yet.
Can you believe in this?

-08/22/14 & I wonder if anyone got the preview reference u_u Maybe I should do a full reference list at the end orz