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rainsometimesReposting a fic I wrote as a treat for the Chocolate Box Exchange on Archive of Our Own, first posted here. Original recipient: Iserlohna on AO3.
Title: The Opposite of the Opposite of the Unexpected, Times Four
Character/Pairings: Gintoki/Katsura/Takasugi/Sakamoto
Rating: PG for language and mentions of sexual situations
Summary: Things each of the Joui Four are not terribly known for: the silence of Sakamoto, the languor of Katsura, the gentleness of Takasugi, and what of Gintoki...? Rare glimpses, given to precious few.
Settings/Spoiler: Vague spoiler for the final arc. Jumps around in time. When the fic mentions Takasugi, assume it's from the wartime days unless otherwise specifically noted. The time can be more ambiguous when it comes to the other three.
The silence of Sakamoto
Sakamoto always seem to be noisy somehow, his words and laughter ringing out louder than anybody else’s. Quiet in Sakamoto terms means talking in a soft voice, mumbling, humming; intimate and close, but still not silent. Like the times when he washes and combs Zura’s hair sometimes, showing greater facility with the task than the other two, who got oddly hostile the very first time, as if they were jealous. Zura was just delighted with it. Sakamoto was more quiet than usual, then, but he was still humming and sometimes erupted into small talk.
Gintoki and Takasugi might say crassly that he only ever shuts up when he’s either asleep or has someone’s cock in his mouth. But in the former case, he still snores half the time – as Zura will point out – and in the latter, he will suck and slurp and pant so enthusiastically that ‘silence’ still doesn’t seem the right word. A truly silent Sakamoto is an outlandish idea.
But it does still happen. There are times when Sakamoto watches the autumn leaves tumbling down, or the stars starting to light up on the night sky, and says nothing, eyes pensive, with a boundless faith in his smile. Gintoki thinks he looks very comely in those moments, but he is still always relieved the next moment, when Tatsuma starts talking. Whether he says something dumb and crass or thoughtful and yearning, just the sound of his voice is nice. Gintoki, for his part, does not much like it when Tatsuma is silent. Sometimes those deep blue eyes seem to see right through Gintoki all too clearly.
Most usually, though, a silent Sakamoto is only caught in the corners of their eyes, as he watches the others with warm eyes, perhaps stretched out on a futon waring nothing at all. That fleeting silence may end quickly. Gintoki tends to get self-conscious and embarrassed when he notices, making him go, “What? Why are you looking like that? What’s on your mind?” which just makes Sakamoto laugh. Zura on the other hand doesn’t seem to mind, but he does get more blushy and giggly than usual when Sakamoto is being silent. As for Takasugi, he just gives Sakamoto a long, unsmiling languid stare right back, then huffs and turns to his pipe or his shamisen.
The languor of Katsura
Katsura is all diligence and dutifulness, as a wartime leader, as a postwar revolutionary, even as an energetic boke full of strange radio waves. Even he can be tired sometimes, limbs heavy and eyes bleary; in fact, it is often only when he’s already worn down that he gets softened enough for a roll in the hay, persuaded in the small hours to indulge in such a luxury. He still tries to do his bit dutifully to please his partner or partners, and is the one most likely to direct the others when they are more than two. Gintoki seems to take it as a personal challenge to “get Zura to let go more”, which can awaken Takasugi’s competitiveness. Sakamoto just laughs about it, and that’s probably what makes Zura relax the most, in the end.
But in the morning, he is always the first one awake, futon neatly rolled away, already busy eating breakfast – or, in war days, giving his men the first orders of the day outside the tent – by the time anyone else is rubbing his eyes with morning-heavy head. He is not a man who believes in lingering in bed.
In his late twenties, Zura will start to discover laziness, usually while playing videogames or spending idle times on the internet, or even just watching TV with Elizabeth at his side. But even that is an ordinary kotatsu-esque kind of slouching, nothing sensual about it.
It is so rare to see him in the early morning light, stretching out in a happy yawn with rumpled bedclothes and unruly hair, bare arms beside his head, reddish-golden sunlight on his face, his expression not just sated with the nights’ activities, but fully content with that fact. At peace. It is so rare, in fact, that when Sakamoto first sees it he does a doubletake and even wonders for a moment if Zura is putting on a show, trying to impersonate one of the others. But when Sakamoto glances at Gintoki, he can see him watching Zura with an expression not of surprise or annoyance but wistful fondness.
Takasugi’s gaze is more unreadable, but he joins Sakamoto in getting dressed and moving about with unusual quiet and caution, as if they’re trying to prolong this unusual sight as long as possible. It’s only when they leave the room to get something to eat that Zura blinks and shakes himself out of it, jumping to his feet and going to get washed. Gintoki groans and glares at the other two over breakfast. That image of a languid Zura will linger in Sakamoto’s head in years to come, and it is to a great delight when he finally gets to see it again, on a cold day in Edo, drinking hot chocolate together in the snow.
The gentleness of Takasugi
Takasugi is easily roused to anger when Gintoki is around, but he has a calmer side as well, for instance when planning for battle or directing his troops. He retreats, sometimes, into a solitary kind of quietude; strumming his shamisen, composing poems, reading reports, reading books, or just sitting and thinking.
He can be quiet, he can be careful, but you would usually not call him gentle. Even when they’re having sex, if he’s taking things slowly it comes across more like he’s teasing the other or others, rather than being considerate. As for times when somebody truly is sick or wounded and needs more careful handling. he acts short and grumpy about it. It is almost like he’s embarrassed, not just to be seen to show such care, but also embarrassed for the other person, too, and the weakness they’re showing.
But rarely, very rarely, on the eve of upcoming terrible battles, when the odds are against them and they all know that many will die, when life is thin and the four of them seek joy in each other’s bodies one more time; it’s only then, hovering so close to infinity that every small gesture between them is like poetry, that he can rest within tenderness without being bothered by it, without trying to hide it. When, in the gray light of the early dawn, his eyes as he looks on his brothers in arms are large and gentle and weary, the weight of impossible softness hanging on the small edge of his smile.
The others tuck those memories away and hide them deep in their heart. In years to come that moment will both warm and hurt.
Katsura will not see that look again; the trysts he and Takasugi sometimes keeps, before Benizakura, never even brush up at the edge of that kind of softness. Sakamoto will imagine he sees it, once, on Rakuyo, which might be a delusion. Gintoki truly will see it again, on a boat going down the river to Edo, Takasugi taking Gintoki’s head into his lap and smoke his pipe in quiet.
The ??? of Gintoki
1. Katsura thinks of Gintoki as a man of enormous strength and with a truly remarkable amount of different traits and qualities, some very open and blatant while others are a little more hidden. He might at first just seem like a lazy slacker, but he can summon a great deal of energy when he wants to, and not only for fighting either. If Katsura had to pick just one noun that doesn’t feel very Gintoki-like, he might pick ‘shyness’. Especially honest, quiet shyness that doesn’t hide behind a grumpy tsundere facade. The very first couple of times they kissed, unsure and clumsy, Katsura was able to see that unusual shy look on Gintoki’s face; it was still a treasured moment, a revelation in its own way. He saw it again the first time they slept together, the awkward, blushy fumbling as Gintoki took his own clothes and put his arms on Zura’s shoulder, neither of them having any clear idea what they were doing. It feels like a long time ago now.
It’s natural, Katsura thinks, that familiarity and comfortability would chase that momentary shyness away. Gintoki seems usually to be incredibly self-possessed, even in times when he’s weighed down by self-loathing. And usually he simply doesn’t talk about the things that would bare his inner self too awkwardly, nor does Katsura try to initiate anything romantic in public. But there are moments still, few and far between, when that old, odd timidity seems to return on Gintoki’s visage, and they seem as young again as they did back underneath a willow tree by a river, the taste of their first kiss lingering on their lips.
2. Takasugi would not deny that Gintoki is a man of many facets, but there is no question in his mind which trait he thinksfits him the least: ‘weakness’. The boy who kept defeating him in the dojo for such a long time, till Takasugi slowly began to catch up; the warrior who fought like a demon, seemingly invincible, with his unparalleled use of unpredictable movements and uncanny flow; even now, in his beaten-down peacetime persona, where his fighter skills are wasted on petty ordinary activities, it’s still the case that whenever he’s pushed to the brink, he will step up and summon forth his stupendous power and fighting skills that remain with him, indelible. His soul might be wounded now, deeply stricken and suffering; but his body can always fight.
Of course, Gintoki could be soft, towards those who were sick or wounded; or even sometimes when they fucked. But the sinuous, resting strength in those marvellous muscles always remained. He was no mean some perfect lover, but even if he got too over-enthusiastic at times with a tendency to blow his load (which Takasugi always scathingly pointed out, enjoying Gintoki’s scarlet flush and “Shut up! I’m doing the best I can!” in response); but that was always due to lack of technique, not a lack in strength. As for the battlefield, even when he’s bleeding from many wounds, with broken bones, there almost always seems to be still a residue in strength in him.
But there have been a couple of times when that was not the case. Gintoki caught a bad Amanto virus, once, during the war, and had to be isolated in his tent riding the sickness out. Katsura who never gets sick was the one who mostly took care of him, but Takasugi sneaked in there a couple of times. That pitiful figure, the feverish sweat, the trembling; the lack of resolve in Gintoki’s stricken face… It had shaken Takasugi, who went out to fight the enemy with even more fury than usual. He wasn’t even sure if it had been the sight itself that shook him the most, or the unwanted surge of tenderness that it had provoked in him. He had no idea what to do about that. Gintoki wasn’t supposed to be weak.
3. Sakamoto thinks that by and large, what he wished was a more common trait for Gintoki is just plain open joy. Not just battlefield frenzy, not just manic, not-quite-honest cheerfulness; not even just a mellow contentedness with a small, fond smile at those that he loves. That last thing is very nice and all, and so is raucous drunk companionship, even if those bar nights always feature copious puking, especially on Sakamoto’s part… But that’s beside the point. It would just be even better, in Tatsuma’s opinion, if Gintoki felt secure enough in his happiness, and in his own right to be happy, to express it more fully and openly. Even when sober.
He wonders sometimes if he should talk to Zura about that, or maybe Shinpachi and Kagura, or even someone like Gintoki’s landlady, who seems to have a good head on her shoulders. But as stubborn as Tatsuma Sakamoto can be, he can recognize this objective as a longterm one that will require a patient and subtle campaign. So he will just laugh even louder and turn up when least expected and coax Gintoki into sharing a few drinks with him at least.
And in the privacy of a hotel room, he is sometimes -- rarely -- rewarded by unexpected happy giggles from Gintoki as Tatsuma nibbles his ear. Those are very, very good moments.
Title: The Opposite of the Opposite of the Unexpected, Times Four
Character/Pairings: Gintoki/Katsura/Takasugi/Sakamoto
Rating: PG for language and mentions of sexual situations
Summary: Things each of the Joui Four are not terribly known for: the silence of Sakamoto, the languor of Katsura, the gentleness of Takasugi, and what of Gintoki...? Rare glimpses, given to precious few.
Settings/Spoiler: Vague spoiler for the final arc. Jumps around in time. When the fic mentions Takasugi, assume it's from the wartime days unless otherwise specifically noted. The time can be more ambiguous when it comes to the other three.
The silence of Sakamoto
Sakamoto always seem to be noisy somehow, his words and laughter ringing out louder than anybody else’s. Quiet in Sakamoto terms means talking in a soft voice, mumbling, humming; intimate and close, but still not silent. Like the times when he washes and combs Zura’s hair sometimes, showing greater facility with the task than the other two, who got oddly hostile the very first time, as if they were jealous. Zura was just delighted with it. Sakamoto was more quiet than usual, then, but he was still humming and sometimes erupted into small talk.
Gintoki and Takasugi might say crassly that he only ever shuts up when he’s either asleep or has someone’s cock in his mouth. But in the former case, he still snores half the time – as Zura will point out – and in the latter, he will suck and slurp and pant so enthusiastically that ‘silence’ still doesn’t seem the right word. A truly silent Sakamoto is an outlandish idea.
But it does still happen. There are times when Sakamoto watches the autumn leaves tumbling down, or the stars starting to light up on the night sky, and says nothing, eyes pensive, with a boundless faith in his smile. Gintoki thinks he looks very comely in those moments, but he is still always relieved the next moment, when Tatsuma starts talking. Whether he says something dumb and crass or thoughtful and yearning, just the sound of his voice is nice. Gintoki, for his part, does not much like it when Tatsuma is silent. Sometimes those deep blue eyes seem to see right through Gintoki all too clearly.
Most usually, though, a silent Sakamoto is only caught in the corners of their eyes, as he watches the others with warm eyes, perhaps stretched out on a futon waring nothing at all. That fleeting silence may end quickly. Gintoki tends to get self-conscious and embarrassed when he notices, making him go, “What? Why are you looking like that? What’s on your mind?” which just makes Sakamoto laugh. Zura on the other hand doesn’t seem to mind, but he does get more blushy and giggly than usual when Sakamoto is being silent. As for Takasugi, he just gives Sakamoto a long, unsmiling languid stare right back, then huffs and turns to his pipe or his shamisen.
The languor of Katsura
Katsura is all diligence and dutifulness, as a wartime leader, as a postwar revolutionary, even as an energetic boke full of strange radio waves. Even he can be tired sometimes, limbs heavy and eyes bleary; in fact, it is often only when he’s already worn down that he gets softened enough for a roll in the hay, persuaded in the small hours to indulge in such a luxury. He still tries to do his bit dutifully to please his partner or partners, and is the one most likely to direct the others when they are more than two. Gintoki seems to take it as a personal challenge to “get Zura to let go more”, which can awaken Takasugi’s competitiveness. Sakamoto just laughs about it, and that’s probably what makes Zura relax the most, in the end.
But in the morning, he is always the first one awake, futon neatly rolled away, already busy eating breakfast – or, in war days, giving his men the first orders of the day outside the tent – by the time anyone else is rubbing his eyes with morning-heavy head. He is not a man who believes in lingering in bed.
In his late twenties, Zura will start to discover laziness, usually while playing videogames or spending idle times on the internet, or even just watching TV with Elizabeth at his side. But even that is an ordinary kotatsu-esque kind of slouching, nothing sensual about it.
It is so rare to see him in the early morning light, stretching out in a happy yawn with rumpled bedclothes and unruly hair, bare arms beside his head, reddish-golden sunlight on his face, his expression not just sated with the nights’ activities, but fully content with that fact. At peace. It is so rare, in fact, that when Sakamoto first sees it he does a doubletake and even wonders for a moment if Zura is putting on a show, trying to impersonate one of the others. But when Sakamoto glances at Gintoki, he can see him watching Zura with an expression not of surprise or annoyance but wistful fondness.
Takasugi’s gaze is more unreadable, but he joins Sakamoto in getting dressed and moving about with unusual quiet and caution, as if they’re trying to prolong this unusual sight as long as possible. It’s only when they leave the room to get something to eat that Zura blinks and shakes himself out of it, jumping to his feet and going to get washed. Gintoki groans and glares at the other two over breakfast. That image of a languid Zura will linger in Sakamoto’s head in years to come, and it is to a great delight when he finally gets to see it again, on a cold day in Edo, drinking hot chocolate together in the snow.
The gentleness of Takasugi
Takasugi is easily roused to anger when Gintoki is around, but he has a calmer side as well, for instance when planning for battle or directing his troops. He retreats, sometimes, into a solitary kind of quietude; strumming his shamisen, composing poems, reading reports, reading books, or just sitting and thinking.
He can be quiet, he can be careful, but you would usually not call him gentle. Even when they’re having sex, if he’s taking things slowly it comes across more like he’s teasing the other or others, rather than being considerate. As for times when somebody truly is sick or wounded and needs more careful handling. he acts short and grumpy about it. It is almost like he’s embarrassed, not just to be seen to show such care, but also embarrassed for the other person, too, and the weakness they’re showing.
But rarely, very rarely, on the eve of upcoming terrible battles, when the odds are against them and they all know that many will die, when life is thin and the four of them seek joy in each other’s bodies one more time; it’s only then, hovering so close to infinity that every small gesture between them is like poetry, that he can rest within tenderness without being bothered by it, without trying to hide it. When, in the gray light of the early dawn, his eyes as he looks on his brothers in arms are large and gentle and weary, the weight of impossible softness hanging on the small edge of his smile.
The others tuck those memories away and hide them deep in their heart. In years to come that moment will both warm and hurt.
Katsura will not see that look again; the trysts he and Takasugi sometimes keeps, before Benizakura, never even brush up at the edge of that kind of softness. Sakamoto will imagine he sees it, once, on Rakuyo, which might be a delusion. Gintoki truly will see it again, on a boat going down the river to Edo, Takasugi taking Gintoki’s head into his lap and smoke his pipe in quiet.
The ??? of Gintoki
1. Katsura thinks of Gintoki as a man of enormous strength and with a truly remarkable amount of different traits and qualities, some very open and blatant while others are a little more hidden. He might at first just seem like a lazy slacker, but he can summon a great deal of energy when he wants to, and not only for fighting either. If Katsura had to pick just one noun that doesn’t feel very Gintoki-like, he might pick ‘shyness’. Especially honest, quiet shyness that doesn’t hide behind a grumpy tsundere facade. The very first couple of times they kissed, unsure and clumsy, Katsura was able to see that unusual shy look on Gintoki’s face; it was still a treasured moment, a revelation in its own way. He saw it again the first time they slept together, the awkward, blushy fumbling as Gintoki took his own clothes and put his arms on Zura’s shoulder, neither of them having any clear idea what they were doing. It feels like a long time ago now.
It’s natural, Katsura thinks, that familiarity and comfortability would chase that momentary shyness away. Gintoki seems usually to be incredibly self-possessed, even in times when he’s weighed down by self-loathing. And usually he simply doesn’t talk about the things that would bare his inner self too awkwardly, nor does Katsura try to initiate anything romantic in public. But there are moments still, few and far between, when that old, odd timidity seems to return on Gintoki’s visage, and they seem as young again as they did back underneath a willow tree by a river, the taste of their first kiss lingering on their lips.
2. Takasugi would not deny that Gintoki is a man of many facets, but there is no question in his mind which trait he thinksfits him the least: ‘weakness’. The boy who kept defeating him in the dojo for such a long time, till Takasugi slowly began to catch up; the warrior who fought like a demon, seemingly invincible, with his unparalleled use of unpredictable movements and uncanny flow; even now, in his beaten-down peacetime persona, where his fighter skills are wasted on petty ordinary activities, it’s still the case that whenever he’s pushed to the brink, he will step up and summon forth his stupendous power and fighting skills that remain with him, indelible. His soul might be wounded now, deeply stricken and suffering; but his body can always fight.
Of course, Gintoki could be soft, towards those who were sick or wounded; or even sometimes when they fucked. But the sinuous, resting strength in those marvellous muscles always remained. He was no mean some perfect lover, but even if he got too over-enthusiastic at times with a tendency to blow his load (which Takasugi always scathingly pointed out, enjoying Gintoki’s scarlet flush and “Shut up! I’m doing the best I can!” in response); but that was always due to lack of technique, not a lack in strength. As for the battlefield, even when he’s bleeding from many wounds, with broken bones, there almost always seems to be still a residue in strength in him.
But there have been a couple of times when that was not the case. Gintoki caught a bad Amanto virus, once, during the war, and had to be isolated in his tent riding the sickness out. Katsura who never gets sick was the one who mostly took care of him, but Takasugi sneaked in there a couple of times. That pitiful figure, the feverish sweat, the trembling; the lack of resolve in Gintoki’s stricken face… It had shaken Takasugi, who went out to fight the enemy with even more fury than usual. He wasn’t even sure if it had been the sight itself that shook him the most, or the unwanted surge of tenderness that it had provoked in him. He had no idea what to do about that. Gintoki wasn’t supposed to be weak.
3. Sakamoto thinks that by and large, what he wished was a more common trait for Gintoki is just plain open joy. Not just battlefield frenzy, not just manic, not-quite-honest cheerfulness; not even just a mellow contentedness with a small, fond smile at those that he loves. That last thing is very nice and all, and so is raucous drunk companionship, even if those bar nights always feature copious puking, especially on Sakamoto’s part… But that’s beside the point. It would just be even better, in Tatsuma’s opinion, if Gintoki felt secure enough in his happiness, and in his own right to be happy, to express it more fully and openly. Even when sober.
He wonders sometimes if he should talk to Zura about that, or maybe Shinpachi and Kagura, or even someone like Gintoki’s landlady, who seems to have a good head on her shoulders. But as stubborn as Tatsuma Sakamoto can be, he can recognize this objective as a longterm one that will require a patient and subtle campaign. So he will just laugh even louder and turn up when least expected and coax Gintoki into sharing a few drinks with him at least.
And in the privacy of a hotel room, he is sometimes -- rarely -- rewarded by unexpected happy giggles from Gintoki as Tatsuma nibbles his ear. Those are very, very good moments.