part six. The part with a lot of plot holes
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Gintoki blinks at the text message on the screen. It sure was… long. He had half a mind to just delete it without reading because, well, who in their right mind would want to read a ZuraLecture™?! He could already see the bracketed emoticons and random inserts strewn around the message just like how the man himself discards his brain all about.
But he finds himself reading it anyway. Che. The thought of possibly getting old and sentimental causes shivers down his arms and maybe he really should delete Zura's stupid spam message like the fate of the flood he got yesterday from the Mimawarigumi's commander (how did the monocle-clad man get his number?), but by then he's already realized—
[Um… Paako-senpai…
Th-this is… I'm a great fan of yours (blush)
If it's not too much, I have a favour to ask!
(wink) Can we meet up at your favourite
parfait place? (not a stalker) The day after
tomorrow, 12:00! I'm a woman, by the
way~! I'll be waiting while holding in my left
hand a D-
(message truncated over character limit)]
—that it wasn't Zura after all.
Gintoki stops in his tracks. He has to reread it twice, fighting the blush creeping up his cheeks at the provocative message addressed to him. Or her. It did say Paako, after all. Would he have to dress up yet again in order to meet her the next day? He'd been looking forward to a lip gloss-free break… those things were sweet smelling but never tasted right.
The message was incredibly tempting, though. Gintoki can read it in a meek voice first and hear it dip into coy tones the second time around and he's at a loss for what to expect. And in her hand would be a D—a what, exactly? The possibilities fly by.
Perhaps a… Doberman? He shakes his head to clear away the image of a dominatrix with a leash in hand and a Doberman by her feet. Dalmatian? The image of the evil woman clad in fur coats and bicoloured hair is no less startling. Dachshund? Why were they all dogs in the first place?
Then, maybe: a D-cup bra?
He gulps. Ah, what kind of action are you supposed to take if you receive a text from a well-endowed woman out of the blue? Calm down, he tells himself. She probably just wants my autograph. Yes, he'd go there tomorrow to meet his biggest fan, grab a parfait, sign her bra, and maybe get his number changed after. It was kind of nice to know that he had some female fans instead of just a horde of Tosshis.
See, this was Gin-san's type. Assets on the chest rather than between the legs, soft curves, pale skin, cute. AKA the complete opposite of the rigid and bony, tanned and toned Takasugi who was not cute at all.
But he's already aware of what he actually wants. It comes with being the main character and having to know enough to drop cheesy motivational speeches at the right moments. Truly, it's a privilege and a curse.
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A screech can be heard through the decks and halls of the Kaientai ship as a man is dragged through them by the scruff of his ear. "Ow-ow-OWOWOWOW! Ahaha Mutsu where are you leading me-owowowowowowow!"
She doesn't say anything until he's tied up and hauled to the gangplank, his back facing the sea and his hands deadened with weights.
"Now, Captain, will you explain how you incurred these bills?" Mutsu asks– no, sneers. "Who worked for a week while their captain wandered off somewhere only to find that her captain spent all the money she made during the time?"
"Ah, Mutsu, I explained everything already! It's at the end of the first chapter, ahahaha..ha…"
Sakamoto gulps as she takes a step toward him, probably intent on finishing him off then and there. He'd like to boast that his self-preserving instincts kicked in at that point, but the ship was getting woozy, too. Whatever the cause, he promptly throws up in her face.
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"Shinsuke, what have you been up to?"
"It's none of your business."
"Your song is different." Takasugi makes no move that he's heard the other man at all, but he comes to a halt by the door.
"Oh?" He murmurs. He briefly entertains the thought of his soul blasting on bubblegum pop – idiots were contagious, no? – before his katana slices the idea into clean halves. "Do you like what you hear, Bansai," he asks, head tilted back to stare unseeingly into the cold face of the moon lighting dark contrast on his face, "..Or have I disappointed you?"
For a minute, neither of them move; the stillness of the moment echoes in the breeze from the open window. Then:
"The darker than black blazes of Hellsing spiking in your murky Psycho-Pass until you went Berserk and the melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi behind your every move; that was what I said you sounded like the first time we met."
"But now... those elements are still there, but there's another layer, thin and Free! Piercing the heavens with a drill and a whimsical side of high school host club x bizarre adventures forming an uneven, sporadic weaving in your soul."
Bansai trails off, and speaks directly to the same moon his boss so desires and despises at the same time.
"It suits you."
In many ways, Shinsuke is like the moon with its raw, unyielding glow, in the shadows and alighting the night. Eternally present and perpetually alone.
But Bansai knows better now.
He's still caught by surprise when what comes out of Shinsuke is a short laugh rather than his signature high-pitched giggle. (Bansai also knows that Shinsuke spent quite a bit of time in front of a mirror perfecting that, too.) Even more surprising is the fact that he isn't angry about it. Bansai knows he's treading ground he has no right to be on.
"..I see." is all Shinsuke says, before he turns back to sweep out of the room. Just beyond his reach, the door slams open from the outside where a fully armed Matako appears with the lolicon in tow.
("Feminist," he corrects, though no one's listening.)
Matako has a bigger concern. "Shinsuke-sama and Bansai-sama, is everything alright in here? I thought I heard the sound of anime titles being ripped off in this room."
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It's a slow day at the record store when Kagura begins her infiltration. There is only one other customer standing by the sample headphones while she scans the rows for her target. 'H' should be those shelves near the wall in the same vicinity so she moves closer, and it's then that she sees… him.
His eyes are closed but the chilling song of murder in his smile has not exposed itself. Instead, his expression is serene. He hasn't noticed her yet, still hasn't when they are only three metres apart and she could leap for his throat at any moment. How loud was his music? Even the voice in Kagura's head is disgusted as she eyes the pair of headphones on his head. Does he want to be deaf? Idiot!
The distance between them shortens by another foot. Kagura doesn't like being ignored, especially not by— "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE YOU BAKA NII-CHAN?" she yells. Her voice carries through the entire store and she doesn't miss the way his shoulders stiffen or the Houkago Happy Hour album between his fingers.
She doesn't know if her gasp is due to the intensity of his opened eyes or the scandalous situation but she is already staggering back. "You've been brainwashed by the evil space villains trying to take over the world too!"
Honestly, Kamui had no clue what his darling sister was going on about. He points at his face and tries to be helpful. "Yes, I'm an evil space villain trying to take over the world…?"
"No!" Kagura seethes. His brows furrow as he tries to trace her line of sight.
He has always been proud of his solid instincts, like how he can tell that Kagura is cursing him inwardly with some kind of 'Baka nii-chan!' mantra. The weight in his hand and the direction of her gaze clues him in.
"Ohohoho, could it be that you actually don't know~?" He dangles the album between two fingers and grins. The way his lips stretch is mostly teasing and almost sincere.
"What don't I know? If you're messing with me, Kamui, I swear…"
She trails off, blinking when Kamui brushes by her and leans in close. "Aah, but you see, if you don't know then it's not my place to tell you, dear sister of mine. Keeping the secret this way is much more exciting, hm?"
His breath is near her ear and her fist yearns to be thrown. But his hands force her fingers apart and they're pressing the CD into her palm.
By the time she finds her grip on it he's already moved away.
Her eyebrow twitches. "Why you!" She was Kagura, Queen of Kabuki-chou!
Kamui dives to the side in time; the shelves he'd been standing next to collapse as Kagura thrusts her umbrella forward and ends up demolishing the entire row. Albums of all types are clattering to the ground, caught up by the flurry of Kamui skirting around the corner and he ends up knocking into another display. Oh, thank goodness. He lifts the cardboard cutout of idol Shinsuko to block the round of bullets from Kagura's umbrella and notes the fact that it's just enough to block everything; life-sized, he thinks cheekily.
He spares Kagura a backwards glance. She still hadn't learned to contain her strength, leaving the storefront to look as if a tornado had just razed through.
"GET BACK HERE!"
But she won't catch up to him.
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Space Captain Katsuura sips a glass of iced tea, half sugar, light ice, with a wedge of fresh lime hung on the rim of the glass and a straw without the bendable part so that it stood straight like the soul of a samurai, and could the ice cubes be star-shaped to match my outfit of the day, and please make it quick, waiter-kun, I am a busy man with a country to change, thank you.
"Hello, Leader, Shinpachi-kun. Have you called me out today to tell me you wish to join the Jouishishi? I am most glad to see you two not following in that good-for-nothing Gintoki's good-for-nothing footsteps. The way of the Joui is bright if I have Leader and Shinpachi-kun by my side!"
Katsura gives a teary smile and takes both of their hands, and shakes them with much vigour.
"You must come to the meeting tonight! I will host icebreaking games in your honour and there will be refreshments. The vending machine in our base of operations may have eaten my money yesterday and I may have had a short loss of temper with it, but now we have lots of Pocari. Have you had a Pocari, Leader? I don't suppose that good-for-nothing Gintoki would appreciate a fine drink such as Pocari. Excuse me, waiter-kun, I will have two Pocari here. What do you mean you don't serve Pocari, I'll have you know that that is unacceptable in this day and age, did you know that back when I was your age, they already sold Pocari in vending machines out in the woods, we are in the middle of a metropolitan city and you tell me you do not have any Pocari—"
"Um," Shinpachi nervously fiddles with his plain glass of water and tries to get in a word before Katsura could get them kicked out of the café. When the Joui leader doesn't seem to be relenting in his tirade anytime soon, his patience snaps. "Katsura-san!" he all but screams.
He falters under the gaze of the entire café's patrons turned his way. Ehh? Had his voice been that loud? The waiter at their table takes the opportunity to slip away as Katsura's attention is momentarily distracted.
Beside him, Kagura and her emptied glass of orange juice sits unfazed. She shakes her head at Shinpachi's incompetence and assumes her professionally manly Gura-san expression. "Let me handle this, Shinpachi."
Three CDs are dealt onto the table under the queen's masterful hands. "Zura, have you heard of them?"
Being the genius actor he was from experience of acting out his random tales of woe, Katsura is able to remain emotionless at the sight of the very familiar CDs laid out before him. He pretends to consider them for a moment, fingers resting his chin above the table. "It's not Zura, it's Katsura. And no, I haven't. Is this by any chance Leader's favourite band?"
Kagura silences the Shinpachi that was about to go on a rampage at the thought of anyone's favourite band being this group that was their enemy. Usurping Otsuu-chan's position was bad enough, and then to brainwash Gin-san, too; Shinpachi was not going to let this slide. Also, this meant that Shinpachi of the second most screen time in the show was the hero of the story now with Gin-san out of commission. If he was to break free of his eighth place curse then it was his time to save Otsuu, save Gin-san, save the readers—
But that was hard to do with a slice of toast folded in half and stuffed into his mouth.
Kagura moves on. She'd drawn up a list of interrogative questions to ask in rapid-fire like those cool scenes in movies.
"Does Gin-chan know anyone who drinks Yakult?"
…Just where was this interrogation headed? Katsura gives a light shake of his head in dissent. "No one in his old circle of acquaintances, at least."
Shinpachi sees his chance. With much difficulty, he finishes the bread in his mouth and jumps up before Kagura can add more.
"Aha! Only one truth prevails!" he exclaims, once again garnering the attention of everyone seated in the vicinity and then some. He hurriedly sits back down to explain his detective deduction in a hushed tone.
"We found these CDs in Gin-san's drawer," he tells Katsura, who is trying to flag down the waiter again for a refill and slumps down in his seat when the waiter nimbly avoids looking their way. "And there was Yakult in the fridge. From what those traitors who left the ranks of the Imperial Guards to pursue that," he jabs his finger at the CDs, "have told me, the purple-haired Otsuu-chan-overlap character likes Yakult."
"And Gin-chan hates Yakult," Kagura chimes in. "He calls it a disgusting drink that only short emo terrorists would ever drink whenever we go to the supermarket-aru."
Katsura's eyes instinctively dart around. Well, if Shinsuke heard this, he would not be happy. Did Gintoki think of the other often, then? He files away this piece of information for later and tries to reason, "Perhaps there was a sale at the supermarket. Gintoki cannot resist the lure of discounted food. His title as the Shiroyasha also stems from the nightly brawls for half-priced bento."
By now his two young compatriots are too deeply immersed in their own tangents to listen to his words.
"Who do these people think they are? I bet that's not a natural perm," Shinpachi mutters at Paako's curly silver-white hair. "She looks like an old granny."
"Hear, hear!" Kagura joins in vehemently. "That one with long black hair, she's going to be bald in the future. Papi had a lot of black hair and it all fell out one day."
He had been nodding along at Shinpachi-kun's words, but now Katsura had heard enough. Sputtering, he stands up and points a dramatic finger at the source of the impossible prophecy. "LEADER! That will not happen! Zurako is blessed with the best hair genetics in the galaxy!"
Err. He realizes he may have blurted out too much when Kagura meets his eyes with narrowed ones. And Shinpachi is looking too horrified, and the two of them are probably drawing terribly wrong conclusions—
"Why, look at the time! I must get going now. You are always welcome in the Jouishishi," he reminds them again before he makes a break for it.
At the table, Shinpachi speaks up first. "Even Katsura-san…"
"Zura's been brainwashed too! Obviously I can't depend on the idiotic men in this show-aru," Kagura says, giving her satisfied belly a pat as she stands up. "In Edo's time of need, the great Kaguura Jasuanto appears with sidekick Megane to save everyone from the wicked brainwashing girl band from outer space! Kaguura Jasuanto will send them blasting off again!"
She's still experimenting with various heroic lines on her casual stroll out of the café. Shinpachi considers the emptied cups and plates on their table and the vacated seats by his side, and his chair scrapes the floor when he suddenly leaps to his feet.
"E-Ehh!? Wait a minute! All I had was water!"
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"I know what you're up to, Samurai-san," Kamui comments, his signature cheery smile unmoving on his face. "You and the other Samurai-sans. All you samurai are so very interesting. The music is also very interesting."
"Glad to know I amuse you," Takasugi replies drily after a minuscular pause that gives no hint to the wavering in his soul. "We're heading back to space next, if that's interesting enough for you."
Kamui sighs. "Haaah, that's not very interesting, Samurai-san. He wasn't lying, you know. Headphones-san, I mean." He leans forward so that their shoulders touch and Takasugi can feel the Yato's breath on the side of his neck. "You're very interesting when you're with Samurai-san. I want to see more of it. Samurai-san's bond with Samurai-san. Samurai-san can try to sever it with all your might, but it won't break so easily. Well, I think you already know that." He moves away and pats his Earth-dwelling ally on his shoulder.
"You…"
The grin flits back to Kamui's face. He doesn't think he's ever seen such an expression on the samurai's face, and it's even more exciting up close. If he didn't know better, he would think the other man was unaffected; but the slight widening of the pupil in his good eye is enough to show that Kamui's words are being weighted. Well, he's done his part, then. Kamui's a guy who always pays back his benefactors ten-fold. If getting one punch in meant receiving ten of Kamui's punches straight to the face, then saving his life would mean… that he would stop his saviour from being stupid.
In Night King-san, he saw a foolish old man with bonds that made him weak. Such a weak man could not offer him anything, was no benefactor in his eyes for he had been surpassed long ago. Samurai-san—the other one, not the one in front of him—had been quite the eye opener, to say the least.
Then he met this Samurai-san, and in this small world the two interesting people he happened to come across had once had a most interesting bond. Rusted as it was now, Kamui thinks it could still be salvaged, if this stupid Samurai-san wouldn't try to run away. Besides, he'd said it already—this was interesting, and he wanted to see such a good show through to the end.
"You… should learn our names first before you try to give me advice, antenna brat."
The antenna wiggles. Then pleasantly, murderously: "I'll kill ya."
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Gintoki does get a message from Zura not long after. It's the next day and he's lounging at home with his best friend Ichigo Gyuunyuu. Shinpachi had dropped by earlier, shouting something about 'Justice for Otsuu' and dragging Kagura out for the day. Since Katsura's wallet was still ridiculously full he'd told them to have fun.
So he'd stuck a hastily written 'Yorozuya Gin-chan on vacation, come back tomorrow' sign on the front door and sat down to catch up on the newest issue of Jump.
Naruto was no more. Gintoki was not yet over that depression. Now he was left with crap like Gintaman to read, which he makes through one page before his phone dinged. It was a good thing in hindsight because the manga had gone into an unprecedentedly tragic arc and some stories were better left unravelled.
He had his own things to protect in this universe, already.
He tosses his empty carton of strawberry milk into the trash on the way out.
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Being the last one to arrive, he is subject to a multitude of greetings all at once.
"It's Kintoki!"
"You're late. I was sick of waiting for you, Gintoki."
Gintoki huffs at the ever-cheerful first speaker and makes a show of picking his nose at the latter. "Up yours, Takasugi."
"Mature as always."
"Only for you. So why're we here again? What happened to us taking a break, we had a cool exit and now we're back at this very familiar situation."
From his spot on the couch, Katsura cleared his throat and for once looked oddly serious. He'd gotten wind of interesting news and holding it in while they waited for Gintoki to arrive had been difficult. So now he jumps right in to the topic. "There are rumours of that Nakura-dono planning to announce something big during the awards show. People are speculating a new album as well, meaning our comeback date will be clashing coincidentally…!"
He waited for the stunned looks, the indignant gasps; how could this happen!? Instead the responses were appallingly mild.
"Okay."
Katsura bristles. How could they not see the problem? "I don't like what she seems to be planning. The blackout and challenge during our show, the alignment of our comeback dates. We're being targeted, and she will be performing before us during the awards ceremony."
The shadows slithering in Takasugi's wide-eyed grin proves he has not lost his evil touch. "Even better. We're going to wipe the stage with her."
"Yeah, what he said," Gintoki waves a hand airily. "Have some faith in us, Zura. A band is built on trust and all that."
This most touching moment dawning upon them dispels three seconds later when his stomach rumbles. "Damn. Might have had some bad strawberry milk," he mutters, and disappears down the hall for the washroom in the blink of an eye.
A comfortable quiet falls upon the room in his absence.
By now we are sure that this will not be lasting.
The buzz directs their attention to a phone left on the vacated seat. Sakamoto leans over to read the text message on the screen. The four of them were gathered in the same place anyway, so who else was texting Gintoki, hmmm….?
"What's this? Kintoki is meeting with somebody tomorrow? 'Yay tilde tilde, exclamation mark, 12PM at the usual restaurant, heart, heart, heart, tilde'," he reads aloud, and wiggles his eyebrows.
"Don't look at me when you say that—who the hell cares what that moron does?"
There is some fumbling around as Takasugi forces the topic to drop. Gintoki comes back to see him wrestle a sniggering Sakamoto into a headlock. He moves to retrieve his phone with a cursory glance at the screen before taking a seat. Zura gives him a suspicious once-over that he doesn't miss.
"What?" He asks, the epitome of unfazed. "I flushed the toilet."
"No, it's nothing."
There was something, but. Katsura chews on his bottom lip. The truth was that he hadn't only gotten wind of one rumour, but the other rumour was absolutely preposterous.
"Since we're all here, let's run through our song again~!"
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The time is sometime before noon, the next day; we follow our gang of inconspicuous characters as they follow someone of their own.
"Ahahaha, I thought you didn't care about what 'that moron does'," Sakamoto recalls with much amusement.
"I don't." Takasugi finds no need to elaborate further. So he doesn't.
"And what about you, Zura. Why are you here to spy on Kintoki too?"
"It's Katsura. I will not allow you all to hog the screen time. Did you think you could leave my presence out of another Joui-centric arc? Mada mada dane."
In fact Katsura's Disguise of the Day consists of a familiar tennis uniform and cap. He brandishes a racquet red as the blood of the Shinsengumi and the sunrise of a new era.
Sakamoto claps. "Okaay! Operation Tsunderesugi, START—guh!"
Red as Sakamoto's disembowelment fluid, Takasugi thinks gleefully.
And thus the Joui Four minus Gintoki weaves through alleys and creeps upon roofs and hides behind vending machines and garbage cans as appropriate while Gintoki himself strolls through the streets of Kabuki-chou unaware.
Or, that was the plan anyway.
"Quick! He's turning around!" Katsura screeches, and with the reflexes of a cat he hops onto the nearest store awning to hide.
Takasugi doesn't inch from where he stands as if daring Gintoki to angle his head just a bit further to see him. Because reverse psychology. He has seen enough death flags (and triggered, of other people's) to know that the more one internally screams, 'don't turn this way' the greater the chance of that very outcome. Behold the fruition of his wide range of experience; Gintoki's straight gaze passes right over his head.
(Wisely, Sakamoto purses his lips and refrains from dropping a comment.)
When they later regroup, their target once again meandering a good distance ahead, Sakamoto has a pertinent question to ask. "Why are the two of you so bad at tailing people? Ahahaha, I mean, I'm a front-door salesman who never accepts shady deals in alleyways but you guys are supposed to be terrorists. Can't you pretend you're, haha, tailing the Shinsengumi?"
There are no stupid questions, only stupid people. This he will soon be forced to conclude.
"Shinsengumi!" The vigilante Katsura has already tossed a bomb into the air for a right-handed Twist Serve.
Takasugi, in the same moment, draws out his sword and conveniently skewers the bomb through its centre.
"I simply destroy."
Sakamoto turns away. Am I left to do the straight man thing now? Me? Actually? "Ahaha, let's see what Kintoki is doing. Wait, he's going in, he's going in!"
And sure enough, Gintoki (or was it Paako, swathed in what was decidedly women's fashion and wearing demure twin-tails in her hair) had pushed through the glass doors of the restaurant. Our stalker group shuffles closer to see him look around—and this was the curious part. Who was their resident silver-haired guitarist meeting with?
"He's moving! He's heading to the corner table," comes more live sports commentary courtesy of Sakamoto, but then he turns quiet.
"If you're not going to describe it, move aside," Katsura huffs, and peers over the edge of the storefront window they were crowding against.
"Which corner is he at? Ah, there you are, Gintoki… huh, that's weird. I did not think he had such acquaintances."
The corner booth sits an almost ethereal being. With a striking headful of wispy ashen hair and pallor from caking on too much foundation, Gintoki's mysterious acquaintance stood out even more than him and his silver perm. Slanted eyes rimmed with smoky eyeliner and a tacky outfit that would only be pulled off under stage lights complete the dark, almost visual kei look. From the fullness of the bust area Katsura could deduce woman, but her aura was of a different class. Somehow she exuded a mature femininity that was manly at the same time. Her expression half-hidden from view already looked purposeful, decisive.
So they all end up pressing against the glass for a better view. Hopefully the patrons seated by the window won't mind too much. Takasugi's evil eye glossing over with thinly veiled threats will make them reconsider drawing attention from the waiters, anyhow.
Gintoki takes a seat and the two seemingly hold a conversation. From afar they're watched by curious, judging, jealous eyes; all of which are taken aback as the woman feeds him… something, with her bare hands.
Takasugi doesn't realize that his own hands have balled into fists.
The President of the Gintaka fan café must salvage his rapidly sinking ship. "Ahahaha, um, ahahahah, let's not watch this anymore. I'm sure that's just Kintoki's childhood friend from, hahaha, a long time ago. But that would be you guys, I guess. HAHAHAHA! I see! It must be a customer. You know, he does run something called a Yorozuya, but this is merely a business relationship. Take it from me when I say there are definitely no personal feelings involved when he sticks his **** into her ****** and ***** her inside the ******."
Sakamoto was totally not helping in the end. With much exasperation, Katsura whacks him on the back of the head. How could he insinuate such censored actions about their comrade? Unforgivable. He forgets about the racquet in his hand and ends up hitting the unfortunate soul on the other side.
"Ah, Shinsuke..."
Of all people to collaterally damage... Takasugi's look of fury does not temper with distance but receiving it at point blank is A Whole New World. So you can't fault him for trying to divert that attention away. It just so happened that the fastest method was totally throwing their comrade back into the pot of flaming oil and fanning it a bit more.
"Look, Gintoki is doing something! How unseemly, Gintoki, to accept presents from women in broad daylight."
"I told you it was a business relationship, ahahaha! They're even drafting the contract papers!"
"Hold on, my wallet is on the table. Paying for his dates with other people's money, as expected of Gintoki!"
"Hahaha, Zura, it's not a date, it's a business relationship. May I hit you back?"
Luckily, Takasugi has stopped listening. In fact he is two steps ahead of them and has already gone inside the café. Katsura and Sakamoto can only follow suit once they spot him discretely clearing out the table behind Gintoki and co. by kicking the body of its former occupant under.
When they've taken their seats, each holding up menus to hide their faces the way the dramas do it (Katsura feels one step closer to being a big movie star like Jackie Chan but without the big nose, thank you), they begin to catch more of the conversation (big noses don't work well with his crossdressing looks, if you were wondering). Eavesdropping is harder than in looks in a popular café (to make up for his lack of screen time he will think a lot of aside thoughts for the author to include) and with Gintoki slurping up his parfaits (thief!) the only thing they could catch was something about writing songs.
There was much laughter from both sides. Gintoki was tapping his spoon to a song that only the two of them could hear (stretching this chapter pointlessly until no one remembers what is occurring in this scene) and the strange woman was nodding along (much ado about nothing, yes we can). Sometimes they looked down at the papers spread out on the table (P.S. don't you wonder how he got the title 'Young Noble of Fury') and seemed to circle things (P.P.S. (LOL)) as they conversed.
Katsura who was so preoccupied with distracting thoughts only noticed the commanding finger pointed at him when it nearly pokes out his eye. "You. Go to the washroom," Takasugi tips his head in its direction and assumes his authoritative aura. It was hard to argue against the tone that used to control an entire battalion of recruits where a good number were their seniors by age.
Anyway, the route to the bathroom would require passing by Gintoki's corner table. Runaway Kotarou had among his great arsenal of skills the ability to slip past anyone unnoticed so he was the clear choice for this task.
He shrugs off the sense of foreboding in the air as he approaches. Something about the woman was throwing him off; maybe it was his eye for crossdressing kicking in, or simply his eye for disguises in general, that triggered such a feeling. For now, however, his focus is on the sheets of paper that are occupying our targets' interest.
When he brushed by the table, he could swear that he saw a flickering in the woman's fully lashed eyes. But that was impossible. Katsura's skill was not so dull that any odd person could see through it. Even Gintoki could only notice so much as a gentle breeze, which could be attributed to the air conditioning vents above.
He has no time to dwell on that and only a split second to steal a glance at the papers. In that second, Spy!Katsura takes note of the arrangement of lines on each page. Most of them consisted of plain text with a font size too small to read at his angle. Yet amongst the pile were pages of musical scores. Unfortunately, he was not well versed in reading sheet music; maybe Takasugi should have come along to the washroom, too. He smirks faintly. Or not. Gintoki would probably take notice in that case.
Spy duties performed for the day, he lounges in the washroom for a bit (and basks in the plenty of impatient knocks since there was only the one stall). He finds a sharpie stored in one of his sleeves and proceeds to decorate the walls a bit. The more appropriate term here would be revolutionizing, for these were horribly drab walls in need of a new paint coat and now the restaurant would be forced to repaint them ASAP. Such was the way of the Jouishishi who have once again improved the living conditions of Edo, one restroom at a time.
All that was left was to report his findings. Takasugi was definitely more curious than he was letting on, so Katsura will let him anticipate a little longer. Is that not what friends are for?
It was not only that. In the empty washroom Katsura can settle his thoughts and stop puzzling over minor details, such as the true reason for Gintoki's meeting here. Why Gintoki was talking to someone else about music. When had the lazy bum ever been interested in music, really? Honestly, after Katsura had gone through so much to persuade him to join the Jouishishi's newest musical endeavour in the first chapter of this fanfic, he has the gall to voluntarily discuss music with some badly dressed older woman with frizzy hair! The nerve!
No. Slowly, Katsura exhales. The problem was never about older women. Older women banzai. Nor was it really about Gintoki. He knows the only reason he's questioning it at all is because of the decidedly unfounded rumour he'd picked up some days ago. It's like that catchy bubblegum song you can't get out of your mind after you hear it once. Or that coffee stain on your favourite mahou shoujo outfit that won't wash off. Katsura isn't picky with mahou shoujo dresses, and everyone in this franchise owns multiple sets of their outfits, but that makes it no less irritating. To be unable to ignore that stain, when he knows he should trust, does trust Gintoki without a doubt…
Irritating.
So after clearing his mind substantially, he slips back to his seat and reports that all he'd seen was just a bunch of needlessly tiny text for squinty eyes. There was nothing else to contribute. "It may have been a contract after all," he allows, as an afterthought.
Sakamoto beams. "Hai, hai! But damn, I was sure he was gay, but it turns out he's also lesbian. Can he count as lesbian? He's wearing a dress. It counts, right? Gintoki: Master of Yaoi and Yuri, hahaha. It has a nice ring to it."
During the restroom meditation, Katsura had also come to pinpoint what he'd felt earlier in his observation of the woman as vague recognition, though he can't think of how or when he might have come across her. Interesting.
"She looks familiar, doesn't she, Shinsuke?"
"Huh? I don't remember the faces of prostitutes."
The aura emanating from the Kiheitai governor at the table is a very fearsome one of green flame.
"…Right."
While Katsura ponders over the face some more, the face in question is already getting up to leave. The three of them lean in as close as they possibly can and concentrate all of their Nen in their ears to pick up the final bits of their conversation.
"I'm glad I got your assistance. I have to get going now, but please enjoy your gift."
Gintoki waves. "See you Sunday, O-chan."
"O-chan!" Katsura repeats, scandalized. "Her name is so vile it must be censored, even when it comes from Gintoki's mouth which has already said things like 'Return my dick' on broadcast!"
"Don't mind, Shin-chan! Hahahaha, somehow Shin-chan sounds natural already."
From their table, the stalkers watch Gintoki and O part outside the café. Gintoki ostensibly heads back the way he'd come from, but where was O going in that awfully gaudy piece of fabric that insulted dresses all over the nation?
"Enough. We're following her." Takasugi bites out the word 'following' like he'd meant 'roasting' and off they go!
Forget paying, the whole café lets out a breath of relief when they're gone.
Back on the streets outside, they make haste so as to catch up to O. Up ahead they see her turning a corner and hurriedly take pursuit. As they are now carnivorous creatures chasing after their prey (or at least Takasugi is sharpening his fangs), everyone in their warpath is scrambling out of it as fast as they can.
That is, everyone except the Demon Vice-Chief of the Shinsengumi, who was patrolling the area when some punks nearly knocked him over as they ran. Naturally, he'd grabbed hold of one of them to prevent their escape so he could beat them up a bit.
"Hahaha, this is weird, I'm moving my legs and all but it's like I'm not moving."
Of course he'd managed to grab on to the one with the stupid perm that was all fluff and no brain. Figures. Nothing good ever came from people with perms. They were troublesome people with troublesome hair. Hijikata's expression turns dreamy at the thought of silky, shampoo-commercial-worthy Zurako-chan and takes the moment to zone out a bit.
Sakamoto's partners-in-crime notice his holdup and stomp back for him.
"Bakamoto, what are you doing, we've lost her," Takasugi growls, and grabs hold of an arm to pull him along. Whether or not he's aware of Hijikata's presence doesn't matter; he wouldn't have bothered to acknowledge him either way. Instead, he engages in a short tug of war and pulls Sakamoto free (and, subsequently, Hijikata out of his stupor).
Katsura is not so laissez-faire about this. He hovers behind Takasugi and watches as the light in Hijikata's eyes regain some semblance of normality. Well.
There was no need to run away, he reasons to himself. He was, after all, still in his masterful disguise as a middle school tennis team member. The very best one, even. The others clad in their usual clothes were beyond saving; well, Katsura at least could stage a prison break later.
His palms still get clammy when Hijikata's stare focuses on him, completely bypassing the other two altogether. Katsura could tell a look of recognition when he saw one, and he sees one now. But how could his disguise fail? Surely Takasugi would stand out more with his signature purple yukata? Alas, he will have to reflect on it while on the run.
He takes a step back only to halt when an unexpected name falls out of the vice-chief's lips. "YAMAZAKI!"
Hmm, it was true that the Prince of Tennis parodies usually fall under Yamazaki-kun's jurisdiction. But was that all the vice-chief looked for in recognizing the features of his own men? Evidently so, for Katsura is now treated to an earful—
"Playing badminton during work hours again, are ya? And here I thought you'd given up the badminton obsession for the anpan obsession. Look, never thought I'd say this, but you should keep the badminton. Anpan has too many calories and we Shinsengumi have to be fit in order to protect Zurako-cha—ahem, I mean, Kondo-san. Yeah, don't forget Kondo-san is the soul of the Shinsengumi and we are the swords that protect him 'n stuff."
"Haha! As expected of Bakufu dogs, they are all hypocrites. Look at you and your nicotine and mayonnaise addiction. And this is a tennis racquet, you imbecile." Katsura is feeling rather affronted at having been mistaken for somebody else entirely and so doesn't mince any of his words. It was like being in kindergarten and having your brilliant painting of the sky mistaken for a pond and the elegant musculature of birds in motion for kelp, or something.
Needless to say, Hijikata is taken aback. Did Yamazaki just… grow a backbone? His mouth opens and closes while he tries to decide on a course of action: to fry Yamazaki on a skewer or not to?
He finally exhales and, to the surprise of Katsurazaki, pats him firmly on the back. "I won't barbeque you this time. You could do with having some backbone once in a while."
At this point he does take notice of the two guys watching their exchange, being the same guys that had knocked into him earlier. It'd be a crime to not notice when they're snickering obnoxiously at the disarmed look on It's-Not-Katsurazaki-It's-Katsura's face.
Pushing Yamazakizura aside, he demands, "Who're these guys? They look awfully familiar. Especially the one with the bandages, I'm sure I just printed off more copies of his wanted poster this morning. Which bastard keeps ripping off the ones I put around Kabuki-chou? Zaki, investigate. And this guy's coming with me."
He tries to haul the black-and-gold haori sleeve to move. Takasugi has a particular grimace on his face that spells Ew, you have, like, two seconds to let go of me, and ought to have been cast for Mean Girls instead. The tension in the air crackles audibly; so much that even Sakamoto stops laughing and starts stepping away from the epicentre.
There was one thing left to do. Fight fire with fire, they say. Disarm a bomb with another bomb, they (should) say. Katsura has plenty of those. "Shinsengumi…" he calls for the man's attention just as he tosses one up into the air.
On second thought, the title was maybe a bit too broad. Hijikata doesn't spare him a glance. Jeez, doesn't he get that he's trying to save his life here? A little more cooperation would be nice, Katsura sniffs. You don't touch Takasugi Shinsuke and live unless your name happened to be Sakata Gintoki. Hijikata as his foil is close, but no cigar.
"...Hello? Mayonnaise inhaler? Chain smoker! Constantly-dilated-pupils-dono!" Okay, he was running out of names, and the bomb was well on its way down. If the last one didn't work he'd have to sport an afro again. He shouldn't even have all these seconds to spare, but you know how it goes in sports anime; you can fit a whole monologue in the three seconds before the buzzer sounds. So he takes a deep breath, readies his aim, and cries, "The world's biggest Zurako fan!"
Hijikata whirls around so fast that Katsura is almost touched. The strings in his racquet make sure to convey his feelings in the ultimate "SPARKING!" serve to the vice-chief's face.
It is very effective.
When Hijikata comes to again, he knows they've already long left the scene. The soreness on his chest notes that one of them also felt like stepping on him on their way out. Bastard…
And, more importantly—
"YAAMAAAZAAAKIIIIIIIII!"
(Poor guy had a lot of explaining to do, later. And still ends up banned from playing badminton again with his alibi. So much for staying fit in order to protect Zurako-chan, huh.)
.
.
.
"Ah. I just remembered, Gintoki seemed to have made other plans on Sunday. Whatever he does, he better not show up late."
Katsura says this between mouthfuls of ramen, and in the middle of discussing Ikumatsu's plans for the weekend.
Ikumatsu slowly shakes her head. She will never understand how Katsura's mind works, but she could try. "So, you wanted me to record a music awards ceremony on Sunday night? I suppose I could do it for three deliveries."
"Right away, Ikumatsu-dono!" Katsura downs the rest of his soup. "Although, ah, I'd like it if you were to watch it, too."
Katsura was weird, but he wouldn't make such a request out of the blue when he was aware that she had no particular interest in music. Surely, humouring him a bit wouldn't hurt.
"Fine. I won't guarantee not turning off the TV if it gets too boring, though." She is a bit curious as to what he's been up to lately, but for now she won't question it. "I'd like it if you were to do the rest of the deliveries today as well."
"Yes, ma'am!"
Katsura remains in a visibly good mood for the rest of the day. It was naturally contagious, and Ikumatsu can't deny the smiles tugging at the corners of her lips.
Somehow, she finds herself looking forward to Sunday evening.
.
.
.
Sunday comes.
Things happen too fast. Even this narration turns abrupt, are you feeling it? The ceremony of the 1st Annual No Music No Life Awards kicks off to great applause and overwhelming atmosphere, some musical acts perform, blah blah but we're not interested in them.
Terakado Tsuu probably performed sometime and Shinpachi was definitely there with his one-man fanclub (all other members having converted to the HHH fanclub led by the pseudo Tosshi persona). Let's not focus on such a pitiable scene either.
This time the stage lights up with a different feel to the air. Everyone watching can tell at once that the big acts are finally coming.
The most anticipated of the night: Edo's hottest sensation, Houkago Happy Hour, and…
The galaxy's most renowned super-idol NAKURA, whose face has yet to be revealed to the public of Edo though stories of her success have travelled to Andromeda and beyond.
Tonight would be their clash. When Nakura steps onto the stage, everyone is silent, ready.
The cloak of spotlight casts an ethereal aura around her, and by the time their eyes adjust enough to see her face, the microphone is already at her lips.
"Singer of the Heavens, Nakura desu. Thank you for having me."
She bows ninety degrees and clears the poison from her eyes. She knows they are watching the live feed backstage. She has prepared everything for them.
"I have a lot of people to thank today. I have of course prepared a thank you speech for when I sweep the awards later, but I fear it may be too late by then to thank these people. I would not be here without them, so I will say it here. Thank you, students of Shou—hold on—"
Too used to saying some other lines from some other arcs quite some time ago, perhaps, she makes a sentimental mistake. It was no matter. She pretends to fix her microphone, and continues with, "Idols of Houkago Happy Hour. It makes me very joyous to stand on the same stage as them, to watch history unfold again."
"I dedicate my next song to you. Please enjoy my newest song, Borororo! ! x2 Shou."
The instrumental track that starts blaring through the speakers is too familiar; the melody leading into the verse is the same one they spent hours perfecting only a week ago.
Only instead of the words that should be coming out of Takasugi's mouth, Nakura is singing reworked lines that sound completely wrong.
to the tune of Wonderland (FLiP) TV size. You know the drill.
.
Demon can you hear me?
Better listen to me
This is how you write lyrics to a song
(…)
Yes I reign as unrivaled superstar
Admit my skill, unlike your feeble screams
That won't reach... that won't reach him...!
.
Fade to black.
On the other side of the stage, a cacophony of raised voices.
Nakura hears it all through her earpiece.
Checkmate
- if this were a chessboard, if there was a king.
But facing scattered pawns that have lost everything else and only continue to move in hopeless positions, desperately—
It's no victory. It's the natural conclusion to a part of history that should have concluded long ago.
.
.-.-.
/end part six, kind of
= and it's time for 3-Z LET'S ASK GINPACHI SENSEI! =
Ginpachi: Hai. A question from our classmate 'I-am-95%-glasses-kun' for our other classmate—
I-am-95%-glasses-kun: Hold on, I signed that question with 'Shimura Shinpachi'! Please read it properly!
Ginpachi: Don't interrupt me, 'I-am-2%-garbage-kun'. We have limited space here, yenno? Now I have to read the question all over again and we might not have enough room to answer your question. Do you want to be responsible for a cliffhanger? Hah?!
I-am-95%-glasses-and-2%-garbage-kun: Okay, sorry. Just keep going.
Ginpachi: Hai. A question from our classmate 'I-am-3%-spit-kun' for our other classmate Tosshi. Tosshi, come up here and answer this: didn't you once advocate a unified otaku society that supports all idols equally during their promotions? Why are you leading a fanclub only for Houkago Happy Hour, and can you keep your answer less than ten words long because we're running out of room?
Tosshi: All idols combined cannot measure to One True Zurako-chan.
Ginpachi: Oi, I don't think you're running a Houkago Happy Hour fanclub. That's just a Zura fanclub, isn't it. I say we swap out the leader for someone less biased. Next time, on Be Careful When Shopping Online, we'll scurry through Edo to find a worthier leader for the fanclub. Don't miss it!
I-am-95%-glasses-3%-spit-and-2%-garbage-kun: Don't change the preview script! And weren't we running out of room? Then don't waste the character count on my nam—
A/N: Amidst a turbulent period in the Gintama manga, here is a turbulent update. So hard to write happy things now ;a; The lack of and sudden (finally!) reappearance of Zura has led to a disproportionate amount of Zura in the chapter. But you can never have too much Zura. I may have gone overboard with anime references this chapter. Also, holy shit, I've been writing this for a full year now. So, for the real preview text: next time, the much overdue conclusion is coming! Don't miss it!
-02/05/15