Chapter 15: Gintama (Era of Expulsion)

Night had fallen, and the order to extinguish the lights and sleep had been given. Yet, a group of grown men remained restless, their excitement palpable. As Okakura Take prepared her bedding, she paid no heed to the twitch at Gintoki Sakata’s mouth, and without a second thought, moved her blanket to his cot. The cold was biting; it was best to huddle together for warmth.

At that moment, Sakata Gintoki was gathered with a cluster of soldiers, discussing matters that only men would—those topics laced with bravado and longing.

“If we’re talking about figures, Aoi is the best,” one uncle said lewdly, tracing an S in the air with his hand.

“Ozawa’s not bad either. That face of hers has real appeal,” another young man mused, lost in his fantasies.

“I fancy the younger, cuter ones. Lola is just adorable, and her voice is lovely too,” declared a bearded veteran.

“No! Meatball is the cutest!” Suddenly, a long-haired silhouette popped up in their midst.

“Whoa!” The entire group jumped in fright.

“Kawigata, where did you come from?!” Gintoki cried out, still shaken as he stared at Katsura.

“It’s not Kawigata—it's Katsura!” Katsura replied earnestly. “I sensed the scent of meatball here.”

“All I can smell is your idiocy!” Gintoki snapped, exasperated.

Okakura Take yawned, watching the noisy group. Every night before bed, they would gather to discuss such topics, always with that lewd expression, conjuring up daydreams in their minds, longing for a girl, yet in the morning, they’d be content to let off steam with their fellow men. It was clear their restlessness stemmed from the Armstrong cannons beneath them.

“Hahaha! Gintoki, you think your silver curls make you popular with women? Give it up! Even if you straightened your hair, that face wouldn’t help.” Katsura, on the other side, laughed, launching his attack. Gintoki was livid.

“What’s wrong with curls? Curly hair can be cute too! Kawigata, you should worry about your brain—your stupidity shows right on your face!”

“It’s not Kawigata, it’s Katsura! Gintoki, back in the academy, I got chocolates from girls on Valentine’s Day. You? Did you? Did you?!” Katsura crossed his arms, head thrown back in laughter.

“Honestly, the most popular among us is the Governor…” Someone murmured.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Those who had been laughing moments before fell silent. Everyone bowed their heads, the dim candlelight casting sorrowful shadows across their faces.

Witnessing this, Okakura Take stifled her laughter. The Governor truly was the trump card. But it was undeniable—Governor Takasugi was indeed popular, a fact everyone acknowledged.

Take recalled that just a few days prior, on Christmas, all sorts of women from ages thirteen to forty had flocked to their camp to throw chocolates, most of them inscribed: “To dear Shinsuke Takasugi.” The bright, heart-shaped chocolates only served to inflame the eyes of the single men who received none. The recipient himself shrugged, saying, “Ah, there’s too many. I can’t finish them all. You guys can have some.”

A nemesis to all men! Such popularity was infuriating!

Everyone secretly wished to throw themselves at him in a fit of rage, but none dared. The Governor’s prowess was unmatched, and his cunning even more so. They could only gnash their teeth, biting into chocolate and pretending it was the Governor’s bones.

Sakata—he was happy, yet sad. Happy to have plenty of free sweets; sad that not a single one was meant for him. Every piece was for Takasugi and Katsura…

Yes, Katsura’s appearance was deceiving. Many women, upon seeing him for the first time, were immediately drawn to his handsome face. So he did receive some chocolates, but he tossed them to Gintoki with the excuse, “Samurai do not eat things that corrode the will.”

Gin was frustrated—deeply frustrated. Why had no one given Gin-san chocolates? What made Takasugi and foolish Katsura better than him?

To Okakura Take’s surprise, she too received a piece of chocolate, simply wrapped, marked “For Okakura Take.” It lacked the exquisite packaging of those given to the Governor and his companions, but even so, she became the object of envy and resentment among the men left empty-handed. They joked that any woman who fancied Okakura must have peculiar taste and an unusual face.

She scoffed. The jealous faces of men were truly ugly. She remembered how Vice Captain Kumamoto had stood up for her, retorting to the sour-faced crowd, “Okakura has far more masculine charm than you lot.” While she found Kumamoto’s assertion of her masculine charm speechless, she was grateful for his support.

Kumamoto had received a few chocolates himself. Though not as handsome as the Governor or Katsura, he had a rugged, appealing face. There were those who liked him.

Take cherished her chocolate, unable to bring herself to eat it yet—it was the first time she’d received chocolate from anyone other than her parents. As for the possibility that her giver was a girl, she ignored it completely.

“Ah! Okakura, you’re secretly smiling, aren’t you? How dare you look down on your seniors!” Her reverie was interrupted. She looked up to see a veteran from the anti-foreign movement grinning at her.

“Yeah, Okakura, you got chocolate a couple of days ago, didn’t you? Be honest—did you buy it for yourself?” Another uncle stood up with a sly smile.

“Who would do such a pointless thing? Whether or not I get chocolate means nothing to me,” Take replied.

Her words made the group of singles recall their own disappointment at not receiving chocolates, and they began to tease and crowd around her.

Take sat up warily. “What are you planning?”

“What? Haha, we’ll show you our wrath!” They formed a circle and lunged at her, but when they formed a human wall, their target was nowhere to be seen. Turning around, they found Take waving at them from behind.

“You—stand still!” they shouted, rising again to chase her. Take dodged their attacks nimbly, with Gintoki and Katsura among the crowd—Gintoki venting his chocolate-less misery, while Katsura simply enjoyed the excitement.

The men charged around the room, chaos reigning, until it devolved into an all-out pillow fight.

“Speaking of which, Kawigata, you got chocolates too! Taste my divine wrath!” Gintoki leapt up, hurling a pillow at Katsura.

“It’s not Kawigata, it’s Katsura!” Katsura ducked, grabbed two pillows, and flung them at Gintoki. “Take my meatball attack!”

Elsewhere, Take dodged the incoming pillows, eyeing the crowd with mischievous smiles. An idea struck.

“Hey! Whose Muto Ran photo album just fell out over there?” she exclaimed, pointing at the distant floor.

“Where?!” everyone looked in the direction she indicated.

Take grinned wickedly, grabbing pillows and launching them at the distracted crowd.

“Haha, it’s all inside your perverted minds!” Take jumped up, tossing pillows at them.

One by one, they fell, but the pillow fight raged on. Eventually, it became a free-for-all, everyone battering everyone else, Take taking more hits than most…

“What are you lot doing, still up and making such a racket!” A deep male voice cut through the melee. They looked up toward the doorway.

Into the room walked Takasugi, his face dark, the cold wind trailing behind him. In that instant, everyone—whether they had received chocolate or not—felt a surge of anger toward this enemy of all men. Emotion triumphed over reason; every man raised his hand—

And hurled their pillows at Takasugi with all their might!

“Die, you bastard!”

The unlucky, unpopular men versus the handsome, wealthy short king—the short king was KO’d in one blow!

Take, who hadn’t joined the attack, stood by, twitching at the sight of Takasugi knocked out on the floor, thinking only: We’re doomed!

And sure enough, her instincts proved right. The next day, everyone who had participated in the pillow fight went without lunch and was punished with toilet duty…

Take’s heart wept, qaq, Governor, I didn’t throw anything at you! But seeing the Governor’s face, so dark it could drip tar, she obediently donned a mask and went to clean the toilets.

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During the afternoon break, Take, clutching her rumbling stomach, hurried to the backyard. She was starving, hoping to scrounge up something to eat. Someone had just tried to steal food from the kitchen, only to be caught by the Governor, and now all the thieves were being punished by carrying buckets. Take could only search the backyard, but all she saw was green—the trees everywhere.

She felt like crying. At that moment, she remembered the chocolate she carried in her pocket. She pulled it out, gazing at the glossy chocolate on the wrapper and gulping hungrily. After much hesitation, she carefully broke off a small piece and tucked the rest away.

With that tiny bit of chocolate, she scanned the yard again and spotted her target: clusters of foxtail grass at the base of the wall. She ran over, plucked them, stripped the fuzzy tips, and crouched there, licking chocolate and chewing grass. It tasted green—definitely not crunchy!

She wanted to cry—the Governor’s punishment was so cruel!

As Take chewed her fifth stalk of foxtail, a shadow fell over her. She looked up—it was Kumamoto, supporting himself against the wall and gazing down at her.

“Ku-Kumamoto Vice Captain…” Take mumbled, grass in her mouth.

“Pfft! Okakura, what are you doing?” Kumamoto laughed, pulling the half-chewed stalk from her mouth.

Take’s face flushed red. She hugged the remaining piece of chocolate and shrank back. So embarrassing! Eating grass with chocolate—mortifying!

Kumamoto chuckled at her curled-up form. He crouched down, gently ruffling her hair. “Are you hungry?”

Take nodded softly, her face still lowered.

Suddenly, a faint aroma drifted from in front of her. She looked up to see Kumamoto Vice Captain holding two roasted sweet potatoes and smiling.

“Gulp.” Take swallowed, looking up at Kumamoto. “Vice Captain? What’s this?”

“It's for you, Okakura. And I told you, just call me Kumamoto.” He slipped the two sweet potatoes into her arms.

“Huh, for—for me? Kumamoto, what about you?” Take hugged the potatoes, asking.

“Vice Captain-level rations are more generous than yours. Eat without worry.” Kumamoto said, sitting beside her.

“Um, Kumamoto, thank you.”

“No need for thanks. Just eat.” Before Kumamoto had even finished, Take was devouring the food, swallowing chocolate and sweet potatoes together. After finishing both, she patted her stomach, leaned back against the wall, and breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling of fullness was wonderful.

“Okakura, you received chocolate a few days ago, right? Was it tasty?”

Kumamoto’s sudden question startled Take, but she quickly answered. “The chocolate’s delicious, but it’s so good I can’t bear to eat too much. It’s the first time I’ve received chocolate from anyone besides my parents.” She scratched her face shyly.

Kumamoto paused, then smiled. “Is that so.”

Take nodded. “Yeah, honestly, I’m curious about who gave it to me. I’m so ugly, I wonder who could possibly have such peculiar taste to fancy me, haha.” No sooner had she finished than a hand covered her head. She turned, Kumamoto gazing into her eyes.

“No, Okakura. I told you—you have your own charm.”

Looking into those gentle eyes, Take felt her heart beat several times faster. She quickly turned away, unable to meet Kumamoto’s gaze. The sensation was so unfamiliar, it made her feel unsettled.