It felt it had been years since he felt alive. It showed on his face and in his dark eyes, but not in the way he continued to work and not in the way took care of his appearance otherwise. Katsura had finished his grieving, which was a painful few weeks as a shut-in, spending time meditating. The only time he left the hotel room he was staying in was to visit Gintoki's grave— embracing it— speaking to him, sometimes laughing, as if he were still there and paying all of his respect.
Respect. That is what he had for Gintoki, more than anything else.
Katsura knew he couldn't continue to go on like this, and once he felt like his heart and soul was at peace— the most as it was ever going to get at this point— he went back to the other passions that drove him: saving the country and redeeming all of the samurai that had been out of commission.
He went back to the okama club to try and get the most money he could. Somehow in the midst of all of those cross-dressing men, he found some sort of comfort within them. His shift was over, and for some reason, he decided to go a bar near the club. Maybe he would drink. Just this night. Katsura hadn't dared touch alcohol to empty his head; instead, praying and taking long walks along the countryside was his way of escape.. however that worked.
Zura wasn't the waitress, but he certainly looked like one in his attire, dolled-up like a prized item for somebody important.
That voice that carried such a jovial sound catches his attention and he looks over his shoulder in passing at Sakamoto. For a moment, Katsura looks almost offended to see him. He remembers how Sakamoto wasn't there to pay his condolences to what fragments remained of the Yorozuya family and how he wasn't there to properly say goodbye to Gintoki.
In fact, a part of Katsura wants to drive his fist right across his stupid face; a part of him wants his polished nails to twist into that brown mop and pull him up to his face to lecture him with so many colorful words that Katsura himself wasn't sure have ever passed his glossy lips.
He was furious. But it didn't show, besides a coarse wrinkle in his brow. For whatever reason, Katsura bows his head meekly like a lady should: ]
[What Zura doesn’t know is that Sakamoto would gladly take the hit.
He deserves to be punished for his carelessness, he’d take every colorful slur the other would have for him, willingly, smiling only with misery while absorbing every hateful curse like a sponge. Sakamoto is no stranger to the idea of bathing in his own blood as recompense, Mutsu teachers her lessons that way, the hard way…
But even she has lightened up as of recent.
This is how optimism can be toxic- You think too highly of people, you think they can live through anything. Sakamoto had never mentioned it outright, but he had always thought he’d be the first to go. Before self-preservation kicked in during the war, he had been feeling the dregs of sadness gobble him up. With no will to fight, no matter how monstrous his strength was, he’d be gone if it wasn’t for his purpose.
His purpose and his tenacity.
He’s lost his fire and it shows. There’s no real joy in his voice, only a hollow imitation of it. Something that can fool anyone who isn’t paying enough attention.
Sakamoto rests his chin on one hand.]
So, so! What’s good around here?
[It seems he hasn’t recognized his friend- Or perhaps, he doesn’t want to.]
To drink, to drink! I don’t come here often.
[Never at all, this isn’t his kind of joint.
But today his legs couldn’t take him very far, so here he is. And, because he’s the lowest he could possibly get tonight, he wastes no time in asking:]
[ 'You got a boyfriend?' The only person he had ever remotely considered somebody who could be a boyfriend isn't here anymore. So .. no, Sakamoto. He doesn't.
Sakamoto is so stupid. Katsura cannot even believe how stupid he is right now— and you know it's bad when Katsura thinks you're really stupid. Though, Sakamoto's voice and eyes are so hollow and empty right now— Zura wonders if he looks the same too. He thinks that Sakamoto probably realized how much he has fucked up by missing their friend's final farewell— by probably not being in town as much to see him during his last few days on this corrupted Earth. In fact, if he told him who he as right now, it might even make Sakamoto feel worse that he wasn't there for Gintoki. Did they really want to talk about that right now?
The way he looks, the way he sounds. Katsura knows this isn't Sakamoto at all. As much as his blood is boiling beneath his skin, he can't. He can't lash out at him, tell him who he is, and let him know just how angry he is at him.
With a sharp inhale, Sakamoto probably notices that he has hit a sore spot. Zura's thick lashes fan shut before he shakes his head and then looks down, veils of inky hair obscuring his face. He can smell alcohol already on Sakamoto's breath, which isn't uncommon, but it's a concern when Sakamoto is looking so glum and has been drinking.
He should scold him for his behavior, but tonight, Katsura just doesn't care. He was considering drinking himself so why should he prevent somebody else. Tonight, Katsura really doesn't care about anything at all, that empty feeling during his time of grieving coming back to haunt him.
He wasn't sure when he would completely get over Gintoki's death, but at least he was well enough to be out and about. There was so much rage building inside of him from having— not only his teacher taken from him— but Gintoki taken from him as well. What is to become next?
This Earth is cruel, but he wasn't going to destroy it, not after he realized that this wouldn't be what Shouyou wanted. If anything, he would directly destroy the people responsible for this— which was saying a lot.
Takasugi was his first friend. ]
Nabeshima for something sweet. Michisakari for something stronger. Ah, the way you smell, you should already know this. Are you already too out of your mind to think straight? [ Oh, there's a bit of the scolding tone we all know; but the way he looks— he could easily be mistaken for just a troubled lady with a lot on her mind.
[He can feel the heat of her scorn in the air around him, in fact, it almost seems to singe the hairs on the back of his neck. Pain equates to pleasure for a dirty rascal like him, whether it be physical or emotional, and a good dose of humiliation is something he thrives on especially when he's upset.
Her face barely registers in his mind, but a merchant remains perceptive, even in the dimmest of light. The way her body tenses up, the way she turns her nose at him... It all seems rather familiar-]
What's the matter? Have you had your heart broken by a man like me before?
[Playfully, he flips through the menu. Going by appearances is tricky, but he tries- Sakamoto isn't a food connoseiur by a long shot, it'd be easier to just buy her something. Still, he wants to see if he can get it right, if he can find something she likes on this damn thing that isn't a drink-]
[ He should tell him. He really should. This is ridiculous. Katsura knows he is a master of disguise, but Sakamoto is somebody that knows him so well— how is it going to take him to notice? Will he notice him at all?
Katsura's heart has been broken, but not in the same way that Sakamoto is thinking. His heart broke the most when he saw that familiar blade kiss the neck of his teacher and send him to his assumed grave. Katsura wasn't so easily open when it came to romance, though he often dreamed of being swept off of his feet by somebody.. it just never really happened. Not even with Ikumatsu, who is still immensely dear to him— it just wasn't what he exactly wanted.
Though, the sorrow in Sakamoto's face is almost unbearable. Maybe Katsura could do something to make him feel comforted without Sakamoto knowing it was him. Didn't Sakamoto prefer women? Maybe it wouldn't matter, but maybe he could do something to bring some kind of glint of joy into Sakamoto's eyes again. Zura concludes he will try to keep his identity hidden for as long as possible until Sakamoto finds out.
.. Oh. He wants to buy him something? Katsura will definitely take that. Though, he plays the role, voice sounding a bit more effeminate: ]
Green curry. [ Zura replies, then reaches over to the menu to press his finger against the menu. His hands looked so elegant and well done— Katsura used make up to cover up some stray scars there. He was that detailed with his disguises to be that convincing.
A woman of few words, it seems, Sakamoto. You know, shy and cute. That's the impression he gave off. Katsura recoils his hands, lifting his palms and sleeves towards his face in a reserved manner. ]
Her fingers really are lovely, though he can tell they’re caked with powder. There’s something oddly masculine about them, however, the knuckles are far too defined, the skin of her palms don’t seem smooth at all…
And so what? If her body lacks a few things that certain girls have. It doesn’t make her any less of a woman.]
You didn’t answer me the first time.
[Sakamoto’s eyes have strayed before, although he’d be ashamed to admit it.
Even as a boy, when he thought men could be nothing more than brothers, he knew better. Soldiers, despite their scarred bodies and sad faces, were built rather well, and he found himself staring many times.
He made excuses back then. He was a merchant, the soldiers were his merchandise, and this was a routine check. Was it really possible to market goods before taking a good look at them?
Even now, even at this age he has yet to go to bed with a man, but he wouldn’t be opposed to it.
All living things are worthy of love.]
I’m not gonna withdraw my offer! Whether yer spoken for or not. Seems like you could use a treat- I was jus’ wonderin’! Don’t want some scary guy to come knockin’ on my door for messin’ with his girl.
[ Katsura listens, watching Sakamoto closely when he isn't paying attention. Did Sakamoto always act this way with women? A part of Zura is.. charmed, really. He seemed persistent, and somebody who is worth being persistent over must be very beautiful or somebody important. Zura liked to think he was both— being the vain creature that he was. Sakamoto was brash enough to treat somebody who hasn't stated if they're taken or not; some sort of impression Katsura give him must have really struck some kind of chord with him.
Well, then. ]
You'll buy my meal— and any drinks I want. [ Katsura makes this sound non-negotiable; almost like he was talking some kind of business. His tone is a little sharper, even. ]
Afterwards, I would like a massage. [ Katsura is thinking a professional one that Sakamoto can pay for, but he fails to be specific. He knows Sakamoto is loaded. Take that as you will, Sakamoto. Katsura takes a sip of water that was sitting there and turns his gaze away from Sakamoto completely.
What Katsura really wants is something to take his mind off of everything. And then: ]
Nobody has me. [ After what has happened, Katsura isn't devoted to anyone. Not anymore. Elizabeth doesn't count because its in an entire category of itself. ]
[Sakamoto only smiles wider- He likes a woman in charge, but the woman in charge of his life won't have him.]
A massage?
[His tone is wry, mixed with something else. Nothing sinister of course, but lecherous? No doubt.]
Ohhh? What seems to be troublin' ya? Sore feet? Stiff neck? Aching back?
[He laughs, but not guffawing as usual; everything is contained within his throat.]
How do ya feel about rough hands? Don't worry, don't worry! I'll be gentle. ♥
I guess the professionals really know what they're doin' or whatever... But isn't it more personal? If a fella's givin' you a massage that's only meant for you.
[ He didn't mean you. Katsura's eyes narrow like something dangerous, gaze pinning deep into Sakamoto as he assumes such a thing. The nerve of him. To be honest, though, there are only a few people Katsura would so easily expose his neck and flesh to— and Sakamoto is one of them he trusts enough for something like that. He wants to retaliate for Sakamoto making such an assumption, but.. on contrary, Katsura doesn't think he would actually mind Sakamoto's hands on him.
Though, he isn't going to linger on that thought too long.. because he was already beginning to feel his cheeks flourish in color just ever so slightly. Katsura puts the glass down with a bit of force, agitated for one reason or another. Who knows.
His nose sticks in the air indignantly. Sakamoto can probably feel a tense vibe radiating from him. ]
My soul is troubled. [ His vague response. ] I don't want to talk about it. [ He doesn't. ]
[ What was Katsura even doing at this point? He could smear his make up off and reveal himself and make Sakamoto feel like the damn fool that everybody knows he is or he could ... ... let Sakamoto put his hands on his body ...
That would reveal his sex at least. Would Sakamoto even want to do something like that to another man? Like hell if Katsura really knew— he only ever really heard Sakamoto talk about women in this kind of way.
Though, if Sakamoto is willing to 'treat' him, he isn't going to forget that. In fact, he is going to milk it for all it is worth. Katsura is a very materialistic, self-centered individual.. but over some of the oddest things.
He's a gold digger.
Katsura doesn't dare look at Sakamoto as he speaks, rather, he keeps his lined eyes focused on the table. One thing Sakamoto failed to mention is just.. how much he would put his hands on Katsura's body. He was already going to take him up on the massage, but if he can get more out of this, well. ]
—If you take me shopping, and purchase what I desire. You take me to my favorite park and walk with me— —You tell me how wonderful I am, and how much I deserve more screen time. In fact, you emphasize how I should have my own spin off series. You purchase a puppy or a kitten for me, I don’t care which. You take me to the zoo. You’ll play UNO and let me win every time.
And you admit to me how awful J*ckie Ch*n’s nose is and how he should have it removed.
[ This is the same non-negotiable tone but holy shit, what are these requests. It’s a dead give away. ]
[Sakamoto knows that the inner workings of his mind are not all that mysterious- He never focused on the "woman's" face because he would've known who she was had he looked a little harder.
For a split second, it's as if every muscle in his face is frozen. His aching heart bleeds immediately- Why has Zura not cursed him out, struck him senseless where he sits? Surely, he's angry.
There's no way in hell the other has healed completely, nor will he ever- Gintoki was Zura's closest friend. But despite this, Sakamoto has never been bitter about the bond between the others. They let him in- That was more than enough.
They made him feel like family.]
Does a nose make a man?
[Faintly.]
While you really are pretty, m'aam-
To know just how wonderful ya are, I gotta get to know ya. A pretty face will wither and fade with time, but a heart of gold or a will of iron? Ahhhh, that stuff'll last a lifetime.
It's not m'aam, it's Zurako. [ Katsura hasn't cursed you out— because he sees that you are suffering too. Don't you see what he is trying to do? Katsura doesn't notice that Sakamoto has the gears turning in his head and has realized something familiar about his identity, so he continues to play it up. If he can provide some kind of comfort to Sakamoto, that's fine. He'll take it.
His voice seems low and soothing when he replies, willing to look at Sakamoto in the face. Katsura himself is pretty fond of Sakamoto's answer— it's enough to bring a very small curve of his lips on his face. ]
I couldn't agree more.
[ With that, his head tips to the side slightly. Katsura extends one of his hands and turns it over, rounded knuckles facing Sakamoto's cheek as he brushes against it slowly.
If he could make Sakamoto at least smile genuinely, even if it meant being like this, he'll do it. Nonchalantly: ]
—Your nose isn't that great either anyway. [ His hand drops. ] [ SASS. THAT SASS. BACK IT UP. ]
[Sakamoto meets Zura's eyes- Whether the other is mad at him or not, he's trying his best to please. No matter how bizarre Zura may seem, he's always been a wonderful friend.
And so, Sakamoto reaches out to take that hand before it falls right at the warrior's side, clasping it gently. He rubs his thumb over all the knuckles, as if each and every one is a treasure. Ah, not just "as if," they are little treasures- Zura is precious to him. Even more so, now that the man is all Sakamoto has left.
Takasugi does not deserve his affections any longer, the Kaientai has cut off trade with the Kihetai for good.
Sakamoto presses his nose against Zura's wrist, laughing, letting the air brush over the pale skin.]
You don't like it?
[Sakamoto then turns Zura's hand over, opening it, spreading the fingers, before kissing the palm with every ounce of gentleness that he has.
Maybe it's all just self sabotage.
Maybe a part of Sakamoto wants to be hit in the face.]
[ Katsura should know better and expect Sakamoto to respond the way that he did.. but come to think of it, Katsura has only witnessed Sakamoto with his forward advances at the hostess club— he's a little surprised ( and maybe insulted ) that Sakamoto hasn't done anything more forward to him yet. Did it mean he wasn't pretty enough? Zura's mind was really an enigma and even the people closest to him couldn't figure him out sometimes.
He was such a fussy creature. Even now, the affection Sakamoto is giving him makes his face slowly change color to a reddish hue again and he looks appalled. How dare. How dare he do something like this that makes Katsura feel warm inside when he didn't give him permission to do that.
See? He is a fussy creature. He likes it, he's embarrassed he likes it, and he wants it to stop unless he says so.
So, maybe granting part of Sakamoto's wishes, Katsura's hand balls into a fist and he clocks one right in Sakamoto's apparently horrendous nose that doesn't meet Katsura's what-the-hell-ever standards before dropping his hand to his lap. It was a pretty.. masculine kind of response and it causes Katsura to cough and clear his throat in an over exaggerated, lady-like fashion. Nothing male to see here. ]
I said, don't put your hands on me yet. [ Yet, he says. There is hope. ]
[Sakamoto reels backwards, the motion dizzying enough in itself, nevermind the impact. This is but a small fraction of how badly he deserves to be hit, even though it fills his alcohol-addled brain with a hint of twisted euphoria.
As he rights himself, as his vision settles again, he can’t help but look upon the other fondly, despite his debatably broken nose. Eyes warm with a cooler fire, something hot but not quite ferocious, not as if he’s going to devour the object of his gaze with some merciless attempt at a sale.
His heart is beating faster and faster, and he makes no attempt to quell it. What right does he have, feeling foolish and petty and miserable, lonely… When a man who has spent his whole life running from just that is sitting right here in front of him ?
Sakamoto loves time spent with his loved ones- It’s the most precious thing in the universe, something he could never put a price on.]
Okay. I’m sorry.
[Sincerely.]
I like bein’ close ta people. Didn’t mean to spook ya.
But are ya really gonna be sittin’ so far away this whole time? I’m loud enough already! Ahaha.
It’ll be really annoying if I yell atcha from across the way.
[Zura is easy to spend time with, even if others may find him strange.
Sakamoto has never objected to the other’s oddities- He finds them wonderful.]
[ Katsura breathes a hot puff of air out of his nostrils, somehow feeling satisfied he was able to strike Sakamoto in the face. Maybe that is all he needed to do to feel better about his friend missing a very important funeral for somebody who was very important to Katsura. ...but I doubt it.
He takes the invitation— why wouldn't he? Sakamoto is already close to him and maybe this will give him a chance to provide more comfort to him. More fussy comfort that he is willing to give instead of something that Sakamoto wants to take. Katsura shifts and sits down next to Sakamoto without any kind of hesitation. ]
I'm positive. [ GOD, DON'T MAKE HIM THINK TWICE... don't make him remember how delicious soba is. Sakamoto can probably see him biting his lower lip like he wants to say something else.. but he doesn't. ]
[ Soba is so obvious. If he orders soba, it's so obvious. Ugh, but it tastes so good. Katsura quickly swipes his tongue across his lower lip and pushes it into his cheek. He turns his gaze away from Sakamoto. ]
..Soba does sound good. Ah, it is not because it is the favorite food of the infamous political hero, Katsura Kotarou, or anything like that. Don't get any ideas. [ Then, he puts his gaze back on Sakamoto, faking a meek little cough into his fist. ]
[ That sounds a bit more like the Sakamoto he is used to hearing. Hmm. Has he still not found out? Maybe his disguise really is that good. I mean, of course it's that good! Nevermind the fact his name is Zurako right now and he coincidentally ordered soba! Katsura takes in a steady breath, cheeks turning pink again. ]
.. I see his face everywhere on [ wanted signs ] posters. I think he is just a misunderstood, upstanding citizen who is just concerned about the city he cares about. Ah, and he needs more screen time. His hair is nice too; I envy it. He's very smart too and the best at the game UNO. [ then, he looks at Sakamoto. ]
Don't you think so? [ I hope you answer this correctly if you want any tonight. ]
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no subject
It felt it had been years since he felt alive. It showed on his face and in his dark eyes, but not in the way he continued to work and not in the way took care of his appearance otherwise. Katsura had finished his grieving, which was a painful few weeks as a shut-in, spending time meditating. The only time he left the hotel room he was staying in was to visit Gintoki's grave— embracing it— speaking to him, sometimes laughing, as if he were still there and paying all of his respect.
Respect. That is what he had for Gintoki, more than anything else.
Katsura knew he couldn't continue to go on like this, and once he felt like his heart and soul was at peace— the most as it was ever going to get at this point— he went back to the other passions that drove him: saving the country and redeeming all of the samurai that had been out of commission.
He went back to the okama club to try and get the most money he could. Somehow in the midst of all of those cross-dressing men, he found some sort of comfort within them. His shift was over, and for some reason, he decided to go a bar near the club. Maybe he would drink. Just this night. Katsura hadn't dared touch alcohol to empty his head; instead, praying and taking long walks along the countryside was his way of escape.. however that worked.
Zura wasn't the waitress, but he certainly looked like one in his attire, dolled-up like a prized item for somebody important.
That voice that carried such a jovial sound catches his attention and he looks over his shoulder in passing at Sakamoto. For a moment, Katsura looks almost offended to see him. He remembers how Sakamoto wasn't there to pay his condolences to what fragments remained of the Yorozuya family and how he wasn't there to properly say goodbye to Gintoki.
In fact, a part of Katsura wants to drive his fist right across his stupid face; a part of him wants his polished nails to twist into that brown mop and pull him up to his face to lecture him with so many colorful words that Katsura himself wasn't sure have ever passed his glossy lips.
He was furious. But it didn't show, besides a coarse wrinkle in his brow.
For whatever reason, Katsura bows his head meekly like a lady should: ]
—Thank you.
no subject
He deserves to be punished for his carelessness, he’d take every colorful slur the other would have for him, willingly, smiling only with misery while absorbing every hateful curse like a sponge. Sakamoto is no stranger to the idea of bathing in his own blood as recompense, Mutsu teachers her lessons that way, the hard way…
But even she has lightened up as of recent.
This is how optimism can be toxic- You think too highly of people, you think they can live through anything. Sakamoto had never mentioned it outright, but he had always thought he’d be the first to go. Before self-preservation kicked in during the war, he had been feeling the dregs of sadness gobble him up. With no will to fight, no matter how monstrous his strength was, he’d be gone if it wasn’t for his purpose.
His purpose and his tenacity.
He’s lost his fire and it shows. There’s no real joy in his voice, only a hollow imitation of it. Something that can fool anyone who isn’t paying enough attention.
Sakamoto rests his chin on one hand.]
So, so! What’s good around here?
[It seems he hasn’t recognized his friend- Or perhaps, he doesn’t want to.]
To drink, to drink! I don’t come here often.
[Never at all, this isn’t his kind of joint.
But today his legs couldn’t take him very far, so here he is. And, because he’s the lowest he could possibly get tonight, he wastes no time in asking:]
You got a boyfriend?
[Disgusting.]
no subject
The only person he had ever remotely considered somebody who could be a boyfriend isn't here anymore. So .. no, Sakamoto. He doesn't.
Sakamoto is so stupid. Katsura cannot even believe how stupid he is right now— and you know it's bad when Katsura thinks you're really stupid. Though, Sakamoto's voice and eyes are so hollow and empty right now— Zura wonders if he looks the same too. He thinks that Sakamoto probably realized how much he has fucked up by missing their friend's final farewell— by probably not being in town as much to see him during his last few days on this corrupted Earth. In fact, if he told him who he as right now, it might even make Sakamoto feel worse that he wasn't there for Gintoki. Did they really want to talk about that right now?
The way he looks, the way he sounds. Katsura knows this isn't Sakamoto at all. As much as his blood is boiling beneath his skin, he can't. He can't lash out at him, tell him who he is, and let him know just how angry he is at him.
With a sharp inhale, Sakamoto probably notices that he has hit a sore spot. Zura's thick lashes fan shut before he shakes his head and then looks down, veils of inky hair obscuring his face. He can smell alcohol already on Sakamoto's breath, which isn't uncommon, but it's a concern when Sakamoto is looking so glum and has been drinking.
He should scold him for his behavior, but tonight, Katsura just doesn't care. He was considering drinking himself so why should he prevent somebody else. Tonight, Katsura really doesn't care about anything at all, that empty feeling during his time of grieving coming back to haunt him.
He wasn't sure when he would completely get over Gintoki's death, but at least he was well enough to be out and about. There was so much rage building inside of him from having— not only his teacher taken from him— but Gintoki taken from him as well. What is to become next?
This Earth is cruel, but he wasn't going to destroy it, not after he realized that this wouldn't be what Shouyou wanted.
If anything, he would directly destroy the people responsible for this— which was saying a lot.
Takasugi was his first friend. ]
Nabeshima for something sweet. Michisakari for something stronger. Ah, the way you smell, you should already know this. Are you already too out of your mind to think straight?
[ Oh, there's a bit of the scolding tone we all know; but the way he looks— he could easily be mistaken for just a troubled lady with a lot on her mind.
Don't make him worry about you right now. ]
no subject
Her face barely registers in his mind, but a merchant remains perceptive, even in the dimmest of light. The way her body tenses up, the way she turns her nose at him... It all seems rather familiar-]
What's the matter? Have you had your heart broken by a man like me before?
[Playfully, he flips through the menu. Going by appearances is tricky, but he tries- Sakamoto isn't a food connoseiur by a long shot, it'd be easier to just buy her something. Still, he wants to see if he can get it right, if he can find something she likes on this damn thing that isn't a drink-]
Which do you prefer?
no subject
Katsura's heart has been broken, but not in the same way that Sakamoto is thinking. His heart broke the most when he saw that familiar blade kiss the neck of his teacher and send him to his assumed grave. Katsura wasn't so easily open when it came to romance, though he often dreamed of being swept off of his feet by somebody.. it just never really happened. Not even with Ikumatsu, who is still immensely dear to him— it just wasn't what he exactly wanted.
Though, the sorrow in Sakamoto's face is almost unbearable. Maybe Katsura could do something to make him feel comforted without Sakamoto knowing it was him. Didn't Sakamoto prefer women? Maybe it wouldn't matter, but maybe he could do something to bring some kind of glint of joy into Sakamoto's eyes again. Zura concludes he will try to keep his identity hidden for as long as possible until Sakamoto finds out.
.. Oh. He wants to buy him something? Katsura will definitely take that. Though, he plays the role, voice sounding a bit more effeminate: ]
Green curry.
[ Zura replies, then reaches over to the menu to press his finger against the menu. His hands looked so elegant and well done— Katsura used make up to cover up some stray scars there. He was that detailed with his disguises to be that convincing.
A woman of few words, it seems, Sakamoto. You know, shy and cute. That's the impression he gave off.
Katsura recoils his hands, lifting his palms and sleeves towards his face in a reserved manner. ]
no subject
Her fingers really are lovely, though he can tell they’re caked with powder. There’s something oddly masculine about them, however, the knuckles are far too defined, the skin of her palms don’t seem smooth at all…
And so what? If her body lacks a few things that certain girls have. It doesn’t make her any less of a woman.]
You didn’t answer me the first time.
[Sakamoto’s eyes have strayed before, although he’d be ashamed to admit it.
Even as a boy, when he thought men could be nothing more than brothers, he knew better. Soldiers, despite their scarred bodies and sad faces, were built rather well, and he found himself staring many times.
He made excuses back then. He was a merchant, the soldiers were his merchandise, and this was a routine check. Was it really possible to market goods before taking a good look at them?
Even now, even at this age he has yet to go to bed with a man, but he wouldn’t be opposed to it.
All living things are worthy of love.]
I’m not gonna withdraw my offer! Whether yer spoken for or not. Seems like you could use a treat- I was jus’ wonderin’! Don’t want some scary guy to come knockin’ on my door for messin’ with his girl.
no subject
Well, then. ]
You'll buy my meal— and any drinks I want.
[ Katsura makes this sound non-negotiable; almost like he was talking some kind of business. His tone is a little sharper, even. ]
Afterwards, I would like a massage.
[ Katsura is thinking a professional one that Sakamoto can pay for, but he fails to be specific. He knows Sakamoto is loaded. Take that as you will, Sakamoto.
Katsura takes a sip of water that was sitting there and turns his gaze away from Sakamoto completely.
What Katsura really wants is something to take his mind off of everything.
And then: ]
Nobody has me.
[ After what has happened, Katsura isn't devoted to anyone. Not anymore.
Elizabeth doesn't count because its in an entire category of itself.]no subject
but the woman in charge of his life won't have him.]A massage?
[His tone is wry, mixed with something else. Nothing sinister of course, but lecherous? No doubt.]
Ohhh? What seems to be troublin' ya? Sore feet? Stiff neck? Aching back?
[He laughs, but not guffawing as usual; everything is contained within his throat.]
How do ya feel about rough hands? Don't worry, don't worry! I'll be gentle. ♥
I guess the professionals really know what they're doin' or whatever... But isn't it more personal? If a fella's givin' you a massage that's only meant for you.
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To be honest, though, there are only a few people Katsura would so easily expose his neck and flesh to— and Sakamoto is one of them he trusts enough for something like that. He wants to retaliate for Sakamoto making such an assumption, but.. on contrary, Katsura doesn't think he would actually mind Sakamoto's hands on him.
Though, he isn't going to linger on that thought too long.. because he was already beginning to feel his cheeks flourish in color just ever so slightly. Katsura puts the glass down with a bit of force, agitated for one reason or another. Who knows.
His nose sticks in the air indignantly. Sakamoto can probably feel a tense vibe radiating from him. ]
My soul is troubled.
[ His vague response. ]
I don't want to talk about it.
[ He doesn't. ]
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Hm?
[Oh, a blush.
Checkmate.]
Your soul is troubled? Well, well! My soul-
[That smile of his is so damn smug.]
Is troublesome. Can't really put yer hands on a soul, can ya?
But I can put my hands on your body.
1.2
... let Sakamoto put his hands on his body ...
That would reveal his sex at least. Would Sakamoto even want to do something like that to another man? Like hell if Katsura really knew— he only ever really heard Sakamoto talk about women in this kind of way.
Though, if Sakamoto is willing to 'treat' him, he isn't going to forget that. In fact, he is going to milk it for all it is worth. Katsura is a very materialistic, self-centered individual.. but over some of the oddest things.
He's a gold digger.
Katsura doesn't dare look at Sakamoto as he speaks, rather, he keeps his lined eyes focused on the table. One thing Sakamoto failed to mention is just.. how much he would put his hands on Katsura's body. He was already going to take him up on the massage, but if he can get more out of this, well. ]
I'll let you put your hands on my body, if—
2.2
—You tell me how wonderful I am, and how much I deserve more screen time. In fact, you emphasize how I should have my own spin off series.
You purchase a puppy or a kitten for me, I don’t care which.
You take me to the zoo.
You’ll play UNO and let me win every time.
And you admit to me how awful J*ckie Ch*n’s nose is and how he should have it removed.
[ This is the same non-negotiable tone but holy shit, what are these requests. It’s a dead give away. ]
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For a split second, it's as if every muscle in his face is frozen. His aching heart bleeds immediately- Why has Zura not cursed him out, struck him senseless where he sits? Surely, he's angry.
There's no way in hell the other has healed completely, nor will he ever- Gintoki was Zura's closest friend. But despite this, Sakamoto has never been bitter about the bond between the others. They let him in- That was more than enough.
They made him feel like family.]
Does a nose make a man?
[Faintly.]
While you really are pretty, m'aam-
To know just how wonderful ya are, I gotta get to know ya. A pretty face will wither and fade with time, but a heart of gold or a will of iron? Ahhhh, that stuff'll last a lifetime.
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[ Katsura hasn't cursed you out— because he sees that you are suffering too. Don't you see what he is trying to do?
Katsura doesn't notice that Sakamoto has the gears turning in his head and has realized something familiar about his identity, so he continues to play it up. If he can provide some kind of comfort to Sakamoto, that's fine. He'll take it.
His voice seems low and soothing when he replies, willing to look at Sakamoto in the face. Katsura himself is pretty fond of Sakamoto's answer— it's enough to bring a very small curve of his lips on his face. ]
I couldn't agree more.
[ With that, his head tips to the side slightly. Katsura extends one of his hands and turns it over, rounded knuckles facing Sakamoto's cheek as he brushes against it slowly.
If he could make Sakamoto at least smile genuinely, even if it meant being like this, he'll do it.
Nonchalantly: ]
—Your nose isn't that great either anyway.
[ His hand drops. ]
[ SASS. THAT SASS. BACK IT UP. ]
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And so, Sakamoto reaches out to take that hand before it falls right at the warrior's side, clasping it gently. He rubs his thumb over all the knuckles, as if each and every one is a treasure. Ah, not just "as if," they are little treasures- Zura is precious to him. Even more so, now that the man is all Sakamoto has left.
Takasugi does not deserve his affections any longer, the Kaientai has cut off trade with the Kihetai for good.
Sakamoto presses his nose against Zura's wrist, laughing, letting the air brush over the pale skin.]
You don't like it?
[Sakamoto then turns Zura's hand over, opening it, spreading the fingers, before kissing the palm with every ounce of gentleness that he has.
Maybe it's all just self sabotage.
Maybe a part of Sakamoto wants to be hit in the face.]
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He was such a fussy creature. Even now, the affection Sakamoto is giving him makes his face slowly change color to a reddish hue again and he looks appalled. How dare. How dare he do something like this that makes Katsura feel warm inside when he didn't give him permission to do that.
See? He is a fussy creature. He likes it, he's embarrassed he likes it, and he wants it to stop unless he says so.
So, maybe granting part of Sakamoto's wishes, Katsura's hand balls into a fist and he clocks one right in Sakamoto's apparently horrendous nose that doesn't meet Katsura's what-the-hell-ever standards before dropping his hand to his lap. It was a pretty.. masculine kind of response and it causes Katsura to cough and clear his throat in an over exaggerated, lady-like fashion. Nothing male to see here. ]
I said, don't put your hands on me yet.
[ Yet, he says. There is hope. ]
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As he rights himself, as his vision settles again, he can’t help but look upon the other fondly, despite his debatably broken nose. Eyes warm with a cooler fire, something hot but not quite ferocious, not as if he’s going to devour the object of his gaze with some merciless attempt at a sale.
His heart is beating faster and faster, and he makes no attempt to quell it. What right does he have, feeling foolish and petty and miserable, lonely… When a man who has spent his whole life running from just that is sitting right here in front of him ?
Sakamoto loves time spent with his loved ones- It’s the most precious thing in the universe, something he could never put a price on.]
Okay. I’m sorry.
[Sincerely.]
I like bein’ close ta people. Didn’t mean to spook ya.
But are ya really gonna be sittin’ so far away this whole time? I’m loud enough already! Ahaha.
It’ll be really annoying if I yell atcha from across the way.
[Zura is easy to spend time with, even if others may find him strange.
Sakamoto has never objected to the other’s oddities- He finds them wonderful.]
Why don’t you come over here?
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...but I doubt it.
He takes the invitation— why wouldn't he? Sakamoto is already close to him and maybe this will give him a chance to provide more comfort to him. More fussy comfort that he is willing to give instead of something that Sakamoto wants to take. Katsura shifts and sits down next to Sakamoto without any kind of hesitation. ]
You still haven't ordered my green curry.
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Are you sure ya don't want soba?
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I'm positive.
[ GOD, DON'T MAKE HIM THINK TWICE... don't make him remember how delicious soba is. Sakamoto can probably see him biting his lower lip like he wants to say something else.. but he doesn't. ]
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[Zura is cute when he does that- Actually, Zura is pretty cute in general.]
Have I gotcha thinkin'?
You should be kind to your heart. Honor it! People are most beautiful at their happiest.
Order whatever you like.
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Katsura quickly swipes his tongue across his lower lip and pushes it into his cheek. He turns his gaze away from Sakamoto. ]
..Soba does sound good. Ah, it is not because it is the favorite food of the infamous political hero, Katsura Kotarou, or anything like that. Don't get any ideas.
[ Then, he puts his gaze back on Sakamoto, faking a meek little cough into his fist. ]
..I have made my decision to that.
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[Sakamoto thrusts his head back, laughing.]
Even if people don't like ya all that much, if everybody knows yer name~! You're still a celebrity. A star!
[He whistles softly.]
And I dunno. I think stars are some of the finest things in this universe.
[luk at dis ho]
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.. I see his face everywhere on [ wanted signs ] posters. I think he is just a misunderstood, upstanding citizen who is just concerned about the city he cares about. Ah, and he needs more screen time. His hair is nice too; I envy it. He's very smart too and the best at the game UNO.
[ then, he looks at Sakamoto. ]
Don't you think so?
[ I hope you answer this correctly if you want any tonight. ]
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[Does Zura really think Sakamoto doesn't know who he is? Ah, well. He'll keep playing the game.]
I mean, yeah! All that other stuff about him, it's true, true! But-
[Except the Uno thing, Zura is shit at Uno.]
He's a very giving man. Even if at first glance, he seems to only talk about himself.
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