Gintama Fan Fiction ❯ salarymen go to heaven ❯ part 2 ( Chapter 2 )

I don't own Gintama. Not at all, not even a bit.

 

 

* * Part Two: In Which Dango Comes into Play * *

 

 

On the other side of Kabuki town, Kagura was slave driving her three captured friends to play with her. Because she was early and it was Thursday and she needed the stretching, she made them do contact games. Of course, whatever Kagura decided to play with her victims would gradually degenerate into a game of `run for your lives'. And without fail, Kagura would win.

 

It is not that these kids hated playing with her. It is just that they didn't drink until early hours of the morning and so they kept track of the days of the week. All of these boys would love to play with Kagura, especially games that weren't her strong points, like anything that involved complicated rules or the use of cards. That way they got to regain some of their pride and manliness. But not on Thursdays.

 

Thursdays were Demon Days in the central park of the Kabuki district. And no place for good children who didn't drink until early hours of the morning and who kept track of the days.

 

Noon rang and like a flock of frightened doves, Kagura's friends ran to their houses. She let them leave, she had to get ready. With a final stretch of her muscles and an experimental high kick, Kagura sat on a bench near the dango stand that overlooked the park and started observing the pigeons.

 

Lesser creatures like pigeons or mice, rats, singing birds, lizards and even small dogs physically couldn't control themselves around him. They felt the menace for miles away and if it started moving in their general direction, they would run in circles, making elaborate patterns in the air on in the grass and then shuffle away with much ado. At first, it would be like watching people run from big monsters they didn't believe could be real; if these animals had faces, they would be twisted in an expression of stunned humour. In denial, like: “wait `til the guys at work hear about this one,” much as their human counterparts would be thinking while half-seriously running away from Godzilla or Pac-man gone wild or Oetker, the giant killer pudding. The next step, however, is the baffled horror as the impossible becomes material and then, finally, absolute, nerve-wrecking panic. That meant he was no more than ten yards away.

 

And what happens next, Kagura couldn't be sure because the animals were no longer anywhere within three hundred feet of the two of them. And Okita is standing above her.

 

“You again? Didn't you have enough last week, China?” he asked in his nasal, drawled voice, holding a plastic plate with three dango sticks lined up on them.

 

Kagura looked up with all her spite. “You again? Didn't they fire you after what you did last week?”

 

Okita looked away pursing his lips dismissively. “I also stopped a terrorist attack from happening that day when no body else was even aware of it, so they closed their eyes about that one line of benches.”

 

“And the bridge, right? And the paving, right?”

 

“The paving is coming out of my pay. The bridge, I managed to convince them, was old and needed renovation,” sighed Okita and dropped on the bench next to Kagura. He took a stick of skewered dango sweets with black sesame topping and started eating it very slowly and with incredible gusto. Kagura's stomach reminded her she ate nothing the whole morning and had no money to afford such a treat. One point for him, damn it.

 

Okita met her vacant expression of hunger with perfectly innocent surprise and, pulling a sticky rice ball off the stick first, apologised with disgustingly fake overtones: “It's my lunch break, sorry for eating like this. But if I don't do it now, I'll have to fight the terrorists on an empty stomach.”

 

“Yeah, you might die, that would be awful,” growled Kagura.

 

“Absolutely awful, China,” smirked Okita. “Who would you come to annoy on Thursdays, then? I don't think master Freelancer could be bothered unless you put in a completely different offer.”

 

“I don't know what you mean,” pretended Kagura daring him to elaborate.

 

“No, maybe you don't,” said Okita after seeming to give the possibility a bit of thought. “I don't think you have the skills for that, anyways.”

 

“Whatever. Sounds like you do. Does it take a lot of practice or just a good teacher?”

 

“Both. Would you like to learn?”

 

“You think you could give me practice? I had your balls on my neck, and there wasn't much there.” Her voice was loud enough for the middle-aged dango merchant to hear. He inclined his head towards the couple arguing on the bench in a lewd sort of way. Okita noticed and his half-lidded eyes sparkled red for just a moment. Point for her. She let a smile grow on her face. “You can still call yourself a man after that?”

 

“As I remember, you managed to fit your tits into sake cups on the same occasion. You can still call yourself a woman after that?” he said, making a show of just how small those sake cups were, well within view of the man on the dango stand.

 

“I can grow those,” said Kagura, slightly offended by the doubt cast on her femininity.

 

“Sure you can,” snickered Okita, heaving a short but heavy look to the dango merchant who immediately gazed off to the treetops. “So why are you here again?”

 

“I can't go to the park?”

 

“Every week at the same time? For four weeks straight? Even if it's not illegal, I'd say it's pretty suspicious. You planning any terrorist activities, China?” mumbled Okita licking clean the last dango stick.

 

“Yeah, I am bringing down your government by sitting in the park. How come they let you keep your job if your head serves only to hold your hair in place?” The man at the dango stand snickered and tried to pass it under coughing, failing dramatically.

 

“For your information, I am good at what I do,” said Okita, looking at the blue autumn sky.

 

“Gin-chan still kicked your ass, right.”

 

“I never faced off with the master Freelancer, China. Don't go making accusations based on nothing,” said Okita, a bit more menacingly. Attacks on his manhood were one thing, but his sword arm was off limits.

 

Kagura made a wide Cheshire cat grin that showed many rows of white teeth. “I still kicked your ass, right.”

 

Okita raised his thin eyebrows. “Funny, because I seem to remember I won last week,” he mumbled as if he was tasting the words.

 

“Bull shit!” protested Kagura, her face slightly more flustered than she would've liked it. “I just fell into the pond and knocked my head on the stone! I was out for like two seconds! You didn't manage to touch me!”

 

“I seem to remember forcing you to retreat into that pond before that. It's not my fault you are a clumsy ass, but in terms of warriorsmanship, you died and I got to laugh my insides out.”

 

“I could have kept it up! Your break ended so you stopped the fight. That means that you retreated! See, my victory,” huffed Kagura, offended.

 

“It's not my fault I actually have a job that gives us a time frame,” shrugged Okita inwardly thinking it was a god-send this was so because without a limitation, they would keep on at it until one of them falls dead or they are blown to bits by Hijikata for destroying public property. Going at it with China for hours… It was slightly concerning that these words had such a good flavour to them. Okita shook it off.

 

“Anyway, my victory,” concluded Kagura folding her arms and crossing her legs, challenging him to disapprove.

 

Okita seemed to take a few seconds for inward thought. If Kagura didn't know him well enough by now, she might have thought he was hesitating to provoke her. But she knew that whatever else he was, Okita was not a coward. Nor was he a particularly careful man. Truth be told, he was a reckless, sadistic prick whose idea of an adequate bed time story was a literary concoction of Justine meets The Silence of the Lambs, edited by the Spanish Inquisition. Foreword by Tomas de Torquemada.

 

She could, thus, be fairly certain that what Okita was pondering in these few short seconds was the cost of what they might destroy today as opposed to the money he will be able to earn in the next twenty years if he didn't start prostituting. Finally, very slowly, he straightened up and looked at her. “I will take you up on that,” he said.

 

Kagura jumped to her feet, trying to wipe off the smile of excitement on her face. “I say my win, you say your win, right?” The man at the dango stand started to pack up his products, silently but very quickly.

 

“Yes, but this time, keep in mind the time limit.”

 

“Whatever, you'll be on your ass before your lunch break runs out.”

”We'll see about that, China,” snarled Okita with a gilette-thin line of pearly white teeth which was threatening to break into a bloodthirsty grin, much like Kagura's own. All of his features seemed to sharpen and he spread his legs slightly, making himself more stabile without losing his `not my problem, I don't give a flying fuck so go stick your head into a sand dune' pose. As a matter of fact, if the man in the dango stand bothered to look up at them, chances are he wouldn't even notice a difference in their posture. It looked as if they were having a conversation about the weather over the polite distance of two people who didn't know each other very well. While really, in terms of fighting, this was the intimate embrace of foreplay.

 

As the merchant wheeled all his earthly possessions away from the place of immediate destruction with the panicked air of a man who had learned his lesson before, Okita spit out the leftover thin wood stick he kept rolling in his mouth. No need to tempt fate with sharp objects. Part from it immediately or keep it in there and have it rammed into your oesophagus at a future time.

 

“Wait, China? Let's make it interesting,” he called without really meaning to.

 

Kagura lifted her eyebrows in expectation.

 

“Let's have a bet, whoever wins gets to think of a punishment.”

 

“Good. Drop dead,” giggled Kagura.

 

“How mean. You do have to win first, though,” snickered Okita.

 

Kagura chewed on her thoughts for a second. “OK, but no death and no sexual things!”

 

“I wouldn't dream of it,” stated Okita blatantly. It wasn't even remotely cynical; he said it as if he really never would dream of `sexual things' with Kagura, and Kagura felt her anger tickled by the implied insult.

 

“And I reserve the right to break you knees later if I don't like the punishment!” she added.

 

“Fine.”

 

And just like that, everything went to hell.

 

 

* *

 

 

For those who might be interested:

 

Demons Days are an album by Gorillaz. Wonderful stuff, that. Also, considering plentiful gorilla references in Gintama and the general humorous tone of their music, an adequate soundtrack.

 

Doctor Oetker is a European food brand. Something like Mister Ben's of pudding.

I am assuming most of you are familiar with Godzilla and Pac-man.

 

Justine refers to Donatien Alphonse-Francois de Sade. Marquis de Sade, for those playing the home game, is a philosopher-pornographer. His name is the base for the word sadism. “Justine or Good Conduct Well Chastised” is one of his most famous novels.

 

Tomas de Torquemada, the inquisitor, was one of the authors of Malleus Maleficarum. Enough said.

 

History lesson ends here.