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rainsometimesCurrently, from March 20 - 26, there's a Shoka Sonjuku Week going on in Gintama fandom, set in motion by this account on Tumblr and this account on Twitter. There's a set of three prompts for each days which can be seen in this pinned tweet on the Twitter account - except for the last day, the 26th, which only has the prompt "Big Brother", as that day is also Oboro's birthday.
There's been some wonderful stuff written and drawn already, and the organizing accounts do their best to reblog/retweet it, so please check out those accounts if you like to read such content!
I've taken part so far by drawing for Day 1, choosing the prompt "Chores", and for Day 2, choosing the prompt "Magic".
I'm afraid I haven't had any ideas for the prompts for Day 3, so I skipped that one and went directly to Day 4. I picked the prompt "Dream" from Competition/Sacrifice/Dream and this time went for text instead of image.
This is a ficlet from Nobume's POV from some point in time before the Farewell Shinsengumi arc, but after the canon starts and maybe after the Courtesan of a Nation arc. There are some things in it that are informed by Shôyô's and Oboro's backstory, even though it doesn't seem like Nobume fully knew all of those things -- but she certainly knew more than the readers/viewers did before that arc started. I'm assuming her she guessed at some of it, at least.
Working title: Another Way Is Possible
Word count: 463 as I post this (I won't do a recount if I polish it)
Characters: Nobume POV (1st person), Shôyô and Shôyô's other students mentioned/alluded to
Spoilers/setting: you should at least have watched Farewell Shinsengumi before reading this, and probably Battle at Rakuyo as well
flavour: pensive
I think they all dream of it. Even Oboro does. No, maybe Oboro most of all. A world in which things happen differently, in which the sun in their lives was never taken from them, where the government felt secure enough that it didn’t see dangerous subversion in the unorthodox words of a random school teacher, and where the Tenshôin Naraku also eventually gave up on tracking down its erstwhile leader. A world where he kept living, kept teaching, bringing them happiness. And kept being himself, being that self only.
It would be strange if they didn’t. It’s not like I haven’t had daydreams myself of ways for things to play out differently. I can’t recall clearly if I ever dared to dream about breaking him out of his prison cell and escaping with him – such a foolish dream it would have been – but even for the child I was, back then, it would not have been so strange to dream that way.
If he’d never been taken, I would not have met him. I would not have become his last student. I wouldn’t even have tried to save that woman and her child in the moonlight that night, I would not have remained there with the proof of my failure waiting to be struck down, and Isaburo would not have taken me on. I would be all Naraku’s, and I would most likely be dead by now. It would be an existence without heart, without hope, only taking and taking and taking.
But I couldn’t begrudge them for those dreams they must have. I think the teacher dreamed of it, too. More wistfully and with more sadness than anyone.
And perhaps all of Shôyô Yoshida, all of Shôka Sonjuku, was nothing more than a dream that immortal being let himself have. He drew us all into it, that ephemeral dream of his. And it shook us up and tore us up and let the light in.
I am someone who was raised to cut down others, tear their dreams up as I tore their bodies. The man I follow now has a secret dream of tearing it all down, to let the mayhem match the grief in his heart. It’s all dirty and ragged, this country. Who am I to say he’s wrong? I have promised to stand by him till it’s time to end it all. There’s only so much a person like me is able to do.
But that man in the prison cell made me part of his dream, he dreamed the person I am now into being. And maybe it wasn’t that ephemeral still. It keeps going as long as we are alive. Perhaps we can never truly make ourselves wake up from it.
There's been some wonderful stuff written and drawn already, and the organizing accounts do their best to reblog/retweet it, so please check out those accounts if you like to read such content!
I've taken part so far by drawing for Day 1, choosing the prompt "Chores", and for Day 2, choosing the prompt "Magic".
I'm afraid I haven't had any ideas for the prompts for Day 3, so I skipped that one and went directly to Day 4. I picked the prompt "Dream" from Competition/Sacrifice/Dream and this time went for text instead of image.
This is a ficlet from Nobume's POV from some point in time before the Farewell Shinsengumi arc, but after the canon starts and maybe after the Courtesan of a Nation arc. There are some things in it that are informed by Shôyô's and Oboro's backstory, even though it doesn't seem like Nobume fully knew all of those things -- but she certainly knew more than the readers/viewers did before that arc started. I'm assuming her she guessed at some of it, at least.
Working title: Another Way Is Possible
Word count: 463 as I post this (I won't do a recount if I polish it)
Characters: Nobume POV (1st person), Shôyô and Shôyô's other students mentioned/alluded to
Spoilers/setting: you should at least have watched Farewell Shinsengumi before reading this, and probably Battle at Rakuyo as well
flavour: pensive
I think they all dream of it. Even Oboro does. No, maybe Oboro most of all. A world in which things happen differently, in which the sun in their lives was never taken from them, where the government felt secure enough that it didn’t see dangerous subversion in the unorthodox words of a random school teacher, and where the Tenshôin Naraku also eventually gave up on tracking down its erstwhile leader. A world where he kept living, kept teaching, bringing them happiness. And kept being himself, being that self only.
It would be strange if they didn’t. It’s not like I haven’t had daydreams myself of ways for things to play out differently. I can’t recall clearly if I ever dared to dream about breaking him out of his prison cell and escaping with him – such a foolish dream it would have been – but even for the child I was, back then, it would not have been so strange to dream that way.
If he’d never been taken, I would not have met him. I would not have become his last student. I wouldn’t even have tried to save that woman and her child in the moonlight that night, I would not have remained there with the proof of my failure waiting to be struck down, and Isaburo would not have taken me on. I would be all Naraku’s, and I would most likely be dead by now. It would be an existence without heart, without hope, only taking and taking and taking.
But I couldn’t begrudge them for those dreams they must have. I think the teacher dreamed of it, too. More wistfully and with more sadness than anyone.
And perhaps all of Shôyô Yoshida, all of Shôka Sonjuku, was nothing more than a dream that immortal being let himself have. He drew us all into it, that ephemeral dream of his. And it shook us up and tore us up and let the light in.
I am someone who was raised to cut down others, tear their dreams up as I tore their bodies. The man I follow now has a secret dream of tearing it all down, to let the mayhem match the grief in his heart. It’s all dirty and ragged, this country. Who am I to say he’s wrong? I have promised to stand by him till it’s time to end it all. There’s only so much a person like me is able to do.
But that man in the prison cell made me part of his dream, he dreamed the person I am now into being. And maybe it wasn’t that ephemeral still. It keeps going as long as we are alive. Perhaps we can never truly make ourselves wake up from it.