![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rainsometimesHere is the first part of my fic for the Ginzura 2023 exchange, also posted to Archive Of Our Own. Written for Infinite In Mystery. I had a lot of fun with this story!
Title: Give The Wolf At Your Door An Onigiri Or Two
Rating: PG for chapter 1, NC-17 for chapter 2
Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Chapter: 1/2
Word count: Around 3450 in this part; around 9300 words in total
(Chapter 2 is a lot longer than Chapter 1)
Spoilers/setting: Set at some point after the Renho arc and before the Shogun Assassination arc
Summary: Gintoki has become afflicted by a new ailment - a type of werewolflike sickness from space. Katsura is both disturbed and allured.
Disclaimer: Gintama is owned by Hideaki Sorachi. His characters are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fanfic is not to be used for profit in any way and may not be uploaded elsewhere without its writer's approval.
Feedback is very welcome including constructive criticism.
There had been a police spy at the grocery shop that day, so Katsura took a circuitous way around the neighbourhood on his way home. While the man in question had seemed lost in thought, staring at different types of apples in the fruits and vegetables section, it was worth a few extra minutes of carefulness to reduce the risk of getting woken up in the small hours by a bazooka attack and having to run for your life.
Especially since Katsura was fairly happy with his current hidey-hole and in no hurry to give it up. The flat wasn’t large or new, but it was clean and orderly, the neighbours were quiet, and the back yard already had pretty white and yellow flowers growing as the grey Edo winter was giving way to a tentative spring. Noticing a piece of trash that someone had dropped right by some of those young flowers, Katsura bent down to pick it up, frowning a little. It was a pink candy wrapper for a popular brand of chocolate.
That was the only warning he got, and it wasn’t a very clear one.
Today was Monday, and so Elizabeth was off doing whatever it was that Elizabeth did on Mondays – Katsura had found it better not to pry – so he did not anticipate anyone else in his flat as he unlocked the door and entered. Mouthing “I’m home” silently instead of out loud -- from ingrained careful habit, by now -- he stepped out of his sandals and put down his grocery bags, then paused. There was something strange about the air.
Someone is here. He didn’t hear any breathing or other sound, he didn’t see anyone, nor smell them, nor could he even say he truly sensed a presence. But the air was simply different from when you were alone. He also has a definite feeling that it was someone he knew personally, but he had no time to reflect further on what that might mean. Very, very carefully, he put one hand on his sword, ready to draw. Whoever was here would already have heard Katsura enter, so it was useless to try to be completely quiet, but still… He took a deep breath, gathered himself, and stepped into the living room.
And there he was. Katsura blinked, then took a deep breath, shifting from one kind of tension to a different one, less immediate but very alert and cautious. Gintoki was sitting crouched on the top of the bureau by the window. He had his shoes on and his clothes were torn and muddy, eyes glowing a dull red. He didn’t turn his head to look at Katsura, he seemed to stare at nothing. There was mud on the windowsill and floor underneath, and the window was just slightly ajar. That part was fine. Katsura had left that window ajar when he left home earlier precisely because of this eventuality.
Gintoki’s otherwise very still frame was heaving with deep, slow breaths that could be seen more than heard; he was unnaturally still in the gloom of the unlit apartment. His face had tufts of fur-like white hair of it. More white furlike hair grew on his neck, chest, arms and hands. His nails had turn into stubby claws. Underneath his shaggy perm two white ears were peeking through, pink on the inside, dog-luke in shape. Or rather, wolf-like. There was no hint of recognition or even awareness of his surroundings in his red eyes.
“Oh, you’re hairy again, Gintoki.” Katsura kept his voice calm and even. “Just stay there if you like, I’ll make you something to eat.” He turned and walked into the kitchen with measured steps. He put rice into the rice cooker and got it started, then went and unpacked his groceries while preparing two cups of tea, leaving two stalks of leeks on the counter. Gintoki normally wasn’t much for tea, but tea was warm, and strawberry milk wasn’t, and Katsura judged that Gintoki needed to get some warm food and drink inside him as soon as possible. Besides, he had spat out strawberry milk before when he was in this state.
It was strange that Gintoki hadn’t helped himself to the contents of the fridge. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Or perhaps it took every last ounce of self-control the man had to simply stay in place, so that he couldn’t spare enough for other things like response or open recognition. A shiver ran down Katsura’s spine.
He took out a chopping board and rinsed the new leeks. “I just got back from doing the shopping,” he remarked. “Went to the All-Sunday Supermarket today, they had a sale on leeks, detergent, and pickled radish. There was a suspicious person in the produce section but I cleverly evaded him.” No response from the living room, but he kept going. Katsura didn’t mind quiet moments usually, but the eerily still air in the atmosphere felt far too thick with tension to be born. “Will you believe it, then later on the cashier started to argue with me about the coupons I’d brought?” He was chopping up the leeks by now, their crisp smell making the kitchen feel a little more kitchen-y. “Claimed they were too mussed up to be valid or something silly like that. I said to her, I’d like to see you keeping these things pristine while evading armed pursuit over the rooftops in the pouring rain. She gave in eventually…” He kept up an even chatter, moving on to stir-fry the leeks and boil water for the tea.
Hesitating for a moment, he finally took out two wrapped onigiri from the refrigerator and walked over to Gintoki. He would rather serve him all the food at once, but it would take a while before the rice was done, and Katsura planned to fry a chicken wing from the freezer compartment as well. He worried that the smell of meat would provoke the poor man if he didn’t have anything in his stomach yet.
Gintoki snatched the ricecakes out of Katsura’s hands and gulped them down right away. He shifted his seat, stomach growling, showing off fangs as he ate. As Katsura moved to get back to the kitchen, Gintoki grabbed him by the arm, holding him in place.
Katsura looked at him carefully. There still wasn’t any change in his expression. But his breathing was heavier still. His hairy hand had claws, now, pricking Katsura through his sleeves. Katsura slowly reached up with his other hand and patted Gintoki carefully on the head, aiming for the perm and avoiding the sensitive ears (even if it took a lot of his own self-control to do so).
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with more food. You can come sit down in the kitchen if you want,” he said reassuringly, trying to make his tone sound calm and inviting.
Long seconds passed, then finally a light of response in Gintoki’s eyes. He swallowed and shook his head. But he let go of Katsura’s arm and let his hand fall down. Katsura resisted the urge to wipe away a couple of stray rice grains on Gintoki’s cheeks. He returned to the kitchen, took out the frozen piece of chicken and added it to the pan where the leeks were frying, hands not as steady as usual.
He’d gingerly suggested to Gintoki once before that he, Katsura, could start to keep raw meat around in the fridge more often. Something that could be devoured right away without thawing. But Gintoki had shaken his head with bloodshot eyes. “I don’t want give the wolf too much of what he wants,” he had said, voice held low. “And I might throw up once I’m back to normal. Any cooked meat is just fine.”
Gintoki would call the symptoms of his condition like that, “the wolf”. Katsura had pointed out to him that real wolves didn’t actually act much like that. They weren’t particularly bloodthirsty, they kept their wits as much as any wild animal could, and were often rather prudent when it came to deciding to pursue their prety or not. “And they have adorable paws,” he added, smiling at the mental picture.
Gintoki had just shrugged at that. “I have to call it something,” was all he said.
The homey smells and sounds were filling up the kitchen and spreading out into the rest of the flat. Now there were new sounds of shuffling movement from the living room, then a thump as Gintoki’s feet hit the floor, and then the man padded into the kitchen. He went over to the stove, staring down into the pan over Katsura’s shoulder. He had left his shoes on the bureau, Katsura noted.
“It will be done in a few minutes, Gintoki,” said Katsura calmly, keeing a much, much gentler tone than he would on any normal day. “You can stay here in the kitchen and wait, but I’ll bring it out to the living room table later.”
Gintoki took a deep breath, a glint of higher understanding returning to his eyes. Katsura felt a clawed hand on his shoulder for a moment. Again, he made himself keep still. Gintoki let go, this time to lean against a doorframe and wait. It’s heartbreaking how much he forces himself to be good. Even like this.
Katsura had no idea what had happened to Gintoki today before coming here. Was that his blood or not? Why were his clothes torn? Unlike the typical werewolf in Western stories, he didn’t seem any more muscular than usual. Katsura didn’t intend to pry. Probably Gintoki hadn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Probably he hadn’t eaten anything that could speak. Honestly he figured both of them were better off not knowing.
He remembered the very first time he had found Gintoki like this, coming across him by chance in an alley, his clothes in a much worse state than today, blood running down his face. There were the remains of a small animal cadavre next to him. It was hard to tell if it had been a large rat or a small rabbit, so much had been eaten of it. (Katsura refused to think it might have been a cat.) Gintoki had growled at first, apparently not recognizing him. But his hunger was sated for the moment, and Katsura moved in a non-threatening way, so he didn’t attack. Once Katsura had come closer, Gintoki’s gaze had softened, perhaps finding his scent familiar. Katsura had sat down and stayed with him in that alley, keeping him company until he came back fully to himself, then dragged him back to his place for a change and a shower. Gintoki had looked so ashamed of himself back then, not meeting Katsura’s gaze. It had been so awful to see.
It wasn’t like anything of it was his fault. Nor was it even the werewolf of folklore, a creature who likely didn’t exist. It was, as Katsura had learned later on, the rare outcome of a particular Amanto virus that gave most people nothing worse than temporary flu-like symptoms. In a small number of people on Earth and on just one other planet, they would develop chronic symptoms of overwhelming hunger, aggression, wolf-like hairiness, and sometimes memory gaps while a new, feral personality would take over the decision-making. It was hard to find out if there was an effecitve treatment or not, as the condition was so rare. Katsura was still searching.
The effects were periodic but not always once a month, and didn’t seem to have a clear connection to the moon, although Gintoki claimed there was a stronger pull from “the wolf inside” when the moon was full or nearly so. The effects varied in strength as well - sometimes the person affected managed to not only sense the changes coming, but even suppress them or postpone them. Both binges of drinking alcohol and eating lots of sweet food helped holding back or at least weakening the effects, while insomnia would weaken your resistance and worsen the effects.
As if he isn’t carrying much too heavy a load already. Why did this needed to be added to the burden as well? Katsura sighed deeply as he stirred in the pan one last time, then put the rice into one big bowl, added the fried leeks and chicken, cracked a raw egg on top and put the whole thing onto a tray together with two cups of tea and a spare onigiri for himself. He carried the tray into the living room and sat down by the kotatsu.
Gintoki ambled after him, moving almost like himself by now, although there was something a little canine still in his seated position. By now, his wolf-ears had shrunk and starting to move downwards, only barely peeking out through the perm. His hands and arms were still much hairier than normal, but the claws were gone.
He started to gobble up the food at great speed, only pausing to grimace at the taste of the tea. Katsura ignored that bit.
“I guess it’s a good thing it’s a Monday today,” he remarked. Gintoki gave him a look of surprise, his mouth full, putting one head to the side questioningly.
Katsura reminded him that Elizabeth had Mondays of. He went on, “As you might recall, I have explained to Elizabeth what is going on, and on other days I always text him so he can stay away for a while when you’re being hairy, but he doesn’t like it much. He is very smart, of course, but he gets lonely.”
Gintok grunted at this.
“You know, Gintoki,” Katsura remarked, because now it started to feel safe to talk about this, “you could have gone to bother your landlady instead. You said you did that before and she was just fine. You felt safe by her, didn’t you?”
“That…” Gintoki finally spoke for real, then coughed, spitting food and tea in the process ( Katsura shieled himself with one sleeve). Gintoki wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cleared his throat before continuing. “That was by accident, I wasn’t thinking at all,” he said, voice more guttural than usual. “I wasn’t even able to think. It was the very first time. No idea what was going on. Suddenly I was sitting on the floor in the snacks bar, right by the back door, head in the old bat’s lap. Hella embarrassing. But no, I hadn’t hurt her.” He didn’t meet Katsura’s eyes as he was licking his fingers. “Somehow the wolf was fine with her.”
“She does have that monster-taming air…” mused Katsura. Otose-dono was indubitably one very admirable woman. She was the only other person who knew about Gintoki’s regrettable new condition apart from Katsura and Elizabeth. And Elizabeth hadn’t witnessed it firsthand.
“I can’t go there again anyway,” said Gintoki. “Catherine and Tama live there too and they’re usually around. The wolf would break my teeth if it tried to bite Tama but it could hurt some important stuff in the process. Catherine and me aren’t even on good terms at the best of days, who the fuck knows how the wolf would deal with her. Besides even if it wasn’t for those two, I still wouldn’t. Not to that house.” He finished the last of the tea with another grimace. Then he glanced down at his clothes. “Man, I look like hell.”
“You’re worried you might hurt Leader and Shinpachi-kun,” said Katsura. It was as plain as the perm on his head. “But if the wolf can recognize Otose-done as someone not to harm, do you not think it would recognize those two as well? As… well, as your pups to be protected. Real male wolves are good fathers who shield their young.”
“You said it yourself, this damn virus isn’t a real wolf,” argued Gintoki. “I dunno if it would happen like that. I can’t take that risk.”
“Leader is remarkably strong, and she only seems to get stronger when she’s protecting someone weaker like Shinpachi-kun,” Katsura pointed out.
“But I’m stronger than my normal self when the virus takes over,” said Gintoki, and now his ears were human ears again, and he sounded almost exactly like usual. Katsura breathed out, a wave of relief passing through him. Even if a part of him did miss those adorable ears. “Or I get my limits removed or something,” Gintoki continued. “I might be too strong for her even then, especially if she gets taken by surprise. Stop it, Zura, you can’t bet on those kinds of odds.”
“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.”
“And they’d make way too much of a deal about it, too. Would run around like scared chickens looking for a cure that probably doesn’t even exist. Leave them alone.”
Katsura sighed. They’d had this conversation before. Gintoki was just so frustratingly stubborn. He did make decent arguments, Katsura had to admit, but he might just be underestimating the fortitude of his two young friends a little too much.
He stood up. “I shall have to make soup for myself since you ate up my portion of dinner, too. Go take a bath and borrown something decent to wear. But you can’t have my courtesan outfit.”
“As if I could fit into something like that, you skinny freak,” muttered Gintoki. But he would probably take Katsura out for dinner soon to make up for it, like he had before. Even if they might have to end up doing a dine-and-dash.
Katsura made the soup and ate it by himself while reading his newspaper from the grocery store. Meanwhile, Gintoki had his bath and got dressed, in the end simply borrowing Katsura’s greyish blue kimono, the one he wore less often than the dark-blue one.
“You can stay the night if you want,” Katsura suggested. It was a genuine gesture of hospitality but also a polite invitation for sex. There was just something particularly hot about Gintoki when he was like this, in the direct aftermath of one of his attacks. When he was at his most werewolfy, Katsura was mostly too worried to feel properly tempted, but in recovery… ah, well. He had this lingering sense of sensual feralness to him that was remarkably enticing.
Gintoki was quiet for a long moment, his face not giving anything away. “Nah,” he finally said, shrugging. “Feels like I’d better head back.”
That wasn’t too unexpected, and Katsura bit his lip, stopping himself from asking if Gintoki was sure. After all, it was likely the right thing to do, so Leader and Shinpachi-kun didn’t have to worry for much longer. “If you’re sure,” was all that he said. “Don’t stop in any pachinko place on the way home.”
“Can’t, I’m all out of money. See ya, Zura. Thanks.”
He waved without looking back and stepped away. His back looked as straight as usual, but something about his figure was less reassuring than normal. And more heart-twinging.
Gintoki was sexy this way, sure. He was the troubled furry werewolf with gleaming eyes. But he wasn’t that usual trashfire sun that Katsura would secretly draw warmth from, that well of contradictory strength to be leant on when needed. Katsura knew that for all that he genuinely worried about Gintoki for his own sake, and for the sake of the youngsters (who almost certainly suspected that something was going on, even if they had no idea what) -- for all that, he knew that he was also upset for completely selfish reasons.
He wanted to keep working to see the new dawn of Japan, he wanted his Sensei to feel proud of him, and for that he needed Gintoki to be Gintoki. So Katsura could remain strong.
Then he shook off the self-pity and self-disgust and that hollowness that came from not really being able to help. “Monday nights just make me feel way too melancholy,” he muttered to himself, then resolutely turned the TV on to get lost in a new historical drama featuring the sad abandoned wife of a cruel samurai.
He’d intended to clean the mud from the windowsill, floor and top of the bureau as soon as Gintoki was himself again, but then he forgot about it entirely as the rest of the evening wore on, and it lay there undisturbed until Elizabeth discovered the muddy patches the next day. Eyes narrowed, Elizabeth went for a mop and bucket, spending some time cleaning thoroughly while holding a signpost that said Hmm…. Katsura pretended not to see it, wiping away a few stray furry hairs from his sleeves surreptitiously.
Continued in Part Two (nsfw)
Title: Give The Wolf At Your Door An Onigiri Or Two
Rating: PG for chapter 1, NC-17 for chapter 2
Pairing: Gintoki/Katsura
Chapter: 1/2
Word count: Around 3450 in this part; around 9300 words in total
(Chapter 2 is a lot longer than Chapter 1)
Spoilers/setting: Set at some point after the Renho arc and before the Shogun Assassination arc
Summary: Gintoki has become afflicted by a new ailment - a type of werewolflike sickness from space. Katsura is both disturbed and allured.
Disclaimer: Gintama is owned by Hideaki Sorachi. His characters are used here without permission for entertainment purposes only. This fanfic is not to be used for profit in any way and may not be uploaded elsewhere without its writer's approval.
Feedback is very welcome including constructive criticism.
There had been a police spy at the grocery shop that day, so Katsura took a circuitous way around the neighbourhood on his way home. While the man in question had seemed lost in thought, staring at different types of apples in the fruits and vegetables section, it was worth a few extra minutes of carefulness to reduce the risk of getting woken up in the small hours by a bazooka attack and having to run for your life.
Especially since Katsura was fairly happy with his current hidey-hole and in no hurry to give it up. The flat wasn’t large or new, but it was clean and orderly, the neighbours were quiet, and the back yard already had pretty white and yellow flowers growing as the grey Edo winter was giving way to a tentative spring. Noticing a piece of trash that someone had dropped right by some of those young flowers, Katsura bent down to pick it up, frowning a little. It was a pink candy wrapper for a popular brand of chocolate.
That was the only warning he got, and it wasn’t a very clear one.
Today was Monday, and so Elizabeth was off doing whatever it was that Elizabeth did on Mondays – Katsura had found it better not to pry – so he did not anticipate anyone else in his flat as he unlocked the door and entered. Mouthing “I’m home” silently instead of out loud -- from ingrained careful habit, by now -- he stepped out of his sandals and put down his grocery bags, then paused. There was something strange about the air.
Someone is here. He didn’t hear any breathing or other sound, he didn’t see anyone, nor smell them, nor could he even say he truly sensed a presence. But the air was simply different from when you were alone. He also has a definite feeling that it was someone he knew personally, but he had no time to reflect further on what that might mean. Very, very carefully, he put one hand on his sword, ready to draw. Whoever was here would already have heard Katsura enter, so it was useless to try to be completely quiet, but still… He took a deep breath, gathered himself, and stepped into the living room.
And there he was. Katsura blinked, then took a deep breath, shifting from one kind of tension to a different one, less immediate but very alert and cautious. Gintoki was sitting crouched on the top of the bureau by the window. He had his shoes on and his clothes were torn and muddy, eyes glowing a dull red. He didn’t turn his head to look at Katsura, he seemed to stare at nothing. There was mud on the windowsill and floor underneath, and the window was just slightly ajar. That part was fine. Katsura had left that window ajar when he left home earlier precisely because of this eventuality.
Gintoki’s otherwise very still frame was heaving with deep, slow breaths that could be seen more than heard; he was unnaturally still in the gloom of the unlit apartment. His face had tufts of fur-like white hair of it. More white furlike hair grew on his neck, chest, arms and hands. His nails had turn into stubby claws. Underneath his shaggy perm two white ears were peeking through, pink on the inside, dog-luke in shape. Or rather, wolf-like. There was no hint of recognition or even awareness of his surroundings in his red eyes.
“Oh, you’re hairy again, Gintoki.” Katsura kept his voice calm and even. “Just stay there if you like, I’ll make you something to eat.” He turned and walked into the kitchen with measured steps. He put rice into the rice cooker and got it started, then went and unpacked his groceries while preparing two cups of tea, leaving two stalks of leeks on the counter. Gintoki normally wasn’t much for tea, but tea was warm, and strawberry milk wasn’t, and Katsura judged that Gintoki needed to get some warm food and drink inside him as soon as possible. Besides, he had spat out strawberry milk before when he was in this state.
It was strange that Gintoki hadn’t helped himself to the contents of the fridge. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Or perhaps it took every last ounce of self-control the man had to simply stay in place, so that he couldn’t spare enough for other things like response or open recognition. A shiver ran down Katsura’s spine.
He took out a chopping board and rinsed the new leeks. “I just got back from doing the shopping,” he remarked. “Went to the All-Sunday Supermarket today, they had a sale on leeks, detergent, and pickled radish. There was a suspicious person in the produce section but I cleverly evaded him.” No response from the living room, but he kept going. Katsura didn’t mind quiet moments usually, but the eerily still air in the atmosphere felt far too thick with tension to be born. “Will you believe it, then later on the cashier started to argue with me about the coupons I’d brought?” He was chopping up the leeks by now, their crisp smell making the kitchen feel a little more kitchen-y. “Claimed they were too mussed up to be valid or something silly like that. I said to her, I’d like to see you keeping these things pristine while evading armed pursuit over the rooftops in the pouring rain. She gave in eventually…” He kept up an even chatter, moving on to stir-fry the leeks and boil water for the tea.
Hesitating for a moment, he finally took out two wrapped onigiri from the refrigerator and walked over to Gintoki. He would rather serve him all the food at once, but it would take a while before the rice was done, and Katsura planned to fry a chicken wing from the freezer compartment as well. He worried that the smell of meat would provoke the poor man if he didn’t have anything in his stomach yet.
Gintoki snatched the ricecakes out of Katsura’s hands and gulped them down right away. He shifted his seat, stomach growling, showing off fangs as he ate. As Katsura moved to get back to the kitchen, Gintoki grabbed him by the arm, holding him in place.
Katsura looked at him carefully. There still wasn’t any change in his expression. But his breathing was heavier still. His hairy hand had claws, now, pricking Katsura through his sleeves. Katsura slowly reached up with his other hand and patted Gintoki carefully on the head, aiming for the perm and avoiding the sensitive ears (even if it took a lot of his own self-control to do so).
“I’ll be back in a few minutes with more food. You can come sit down in the kitchen if you want,” he said reassuringly, trying to make his tone sound calm and inviting.
Long seconds passed, then finally a light of response in Gintoki’s eyes. He swallowed and shook his head. But he let go of Katsura’s arm and let his hand fall down. Katsura resisted the urge to wipe away a couple of stray rice grains on Gintoki’s cheeks. He returned to the kitchen, took out the frozen piece of chicken and added it to the pan where the leeks were frying, hands not as steady as usual.
He’d gingerly suggested to Gintoki once before that he, Katsura, could start to keep raw meat around in the fridge more often. Something that could be devoured right away without thawing. But Gintoki had shaken his head with bloodshot eyes. “I don’t want give the wolf too much of what he wants,” he had said, voice held low. “And I might throw up once I’m back to normal. Any cooked meat is just fine.”
Gintoki would call the symptoms of his condition like that, “the wolf”. Katsura had pointed out to him that real wolves didn’t actually act much like that. They weren’t particularly bloodthirsty, they kept their wits as much as any wild animal could, and were often rather prudent when it came to deciding to pursue their prety or not. “And they have adorable paws,” he added, smiling at the mental picture.
Gintoki had just shrugged at that. “I have to call it something,” was all he said.
The homey smells and sounds were filling up the kitchen and spreading out into the rest of the flat. Now there were new sounds of shuffling movement from the living room, then a thump as Gintoki’s feet hit the floor, and then the man padded into the kitchen. He went over to the stove, staring down into the pan over Katsura’s shoulder. He had left his shoes on the bureau, Katsura noted.
“It will be done in a few minutes, Gintoki,” said Katsura calmly, keeing a much, much gentler tone than he would on any normal day. “You can stay here in the kitchen and wait, but I’ll bring it out to the living room table later.”
Gintoki took a deep breath, a glint of higher understanding returning to his eyes. Katsura felt a clawed hand on his shoulder for a moment. Again, he made himself keep still. Gintoki let go, this time to lean against a doorframe and wait. It’s heartbreaking how much he forces himself to be good. Even like this.
Katsura had no idea what had happened to Gintoki today before coming here. Was that his blood or not? Why were his clothes torn? Unlike the typical werewolf in Western stories, he didn’t seem any more muscular than usual. Katsura didn’t intend to pry. Probably Gintoki hadn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. Probably he hadn’t eaten anything that could speak. Honestly he figured both of them were better off not knowing.
He remembered the very first time he had found Gintoki like this, coming across him by chance in an alley, his clothes in a much worse state than today, blood running down his face. There were the remains of a small animal cadavre next to him. It was hard to tell if it had been a large rat or a small rabbit, so much had been eaten of it. (Katsura refused to think it might have been a cat.) Gintoki had growled at first, apparently not recognizing him. But his hunger was sated for the moment, and Katsura moved in a non-threatening way, so he didn’t attack. Once Katsura had come closer, Gintoki’s gaze had softened, perhaps finding his scent familiar. Katsura had sat down and stayed with him in that alley, keeping him company until he came back fully to himself, then dragged him back to his place for a change and a shower. Gintoki had looked so ashamed of himself back then, not meeting Katsura’s gaze. It had been so awful to see.
It wasn’t like anything of it was his fault. Nor was it even the werewolf of folklore, a creature who likely didn’t exist. It was, as Katsura had learned later on, the rare outcome of a particular Amanto virus that gave most people nothing worse than temporary flu-like symptoms. In a small number of people on Earth and on just one other planet, they would develop chronic symptoms of overwhelming hunger, aggression, wolf-like hairiness, and sometimes memory gaps while a new, feral personality would take over the decision-making. It was hard to find out if there was an effecitve treatment or not, as the condition was so rare. Katsura was still searching.
The effects were periodic but not always once a month, and didn’t seem to have a clear connection to the moon, although Gintoki claimed there was a stronger pull from “the wolf inside” when the moon was full or nearly so. The effects varied in strength as well - sometimes the person affected managed to not only sense the changes coming, but even suppress them or postpone them. Both binges of drinking alcohol and eating lots of sweet food helped holding back or at least weakening the effects, while insomnia would weaken your resistance and worsen the effects.
As if he isn’t carrying much too heavy a load already. Why did this needed to be added to the burden as well? Katsura sighed deeply as he stirred in the pan one last time, then put the rice into one big bowl, added the fried leeks and chicken, cracked a raw egg on top and put the whole thing onto a tray together with two cups of tea and a spare onigiri for himself. He carried the tray into the living room and sat down by the kotatsu.
Gintoki ambled after him, moving almost like himself by now, although there was something a little canine still in his seated position. By now, his wolf-ears had shrunk and starting to move downwards, only barely peeking out through the perm. His hands and arms were still much hairier than normal, but the claws were gone.
He started to gobble up the food at great speed, only pausing to grimace at the taste of the tea. Katsura ignored that bit.
“I guess it’s a good thing it’s a Monday today,” he remarked. Gintoki gave him a look of surprise, his mouth full, putting one head to the side questioningly.
Katsura reminded him that Elizabeth had Mondays of. He went on, “As you might recall, I have explained to Elizabeth what is going on, and on other days I always text him so he can stay away for a while when you’re being hairy, but he doesn’t like it much. He is very smart, of course, but he gets lonely.”
Gintok grunted at this.
“You know, Gintoki,” Katsura remarked, because now it started to feel safe to talk about this, “you could have gone to bother your landlady instead. You said you did that before and she was just fine. You felt safe by her, didn’t you?”
“That…” Gintoki finally spoke for real, then coughed, spitting food and tea in the process ( Katsura shieled himself with one sleeve). Gintoki wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cleared his throat before continuing. “That was by accident, I wasn’t thinking at all,” he said, voice more guttural than usual. “I wasn’t even able to think. It was the very first time. No idea what was going on. Suddenly I was sitting on the floor in the snacks bar, right by the back door, head in the old bat’s lap. Hella embarrassing. But no, I hadn’t hurt her.” He didn’t meet Katsura’s eyes as he was licking his fingers. “Somehow the wolf was fine with her.”
“She does have that monster-taming air…” mused Katsura. Otose-dono was indubitably one very admirable woman. She was the only other person who knew about Gintoki’s regrettable new condition apart from Katsura and Elizabeth. And Elizabeth hadn’t witnessed it firsthand.
“I can’t go there again anyway,” said Gintoki. “Catherine and Tama live there too and they’re usually around. The wolf would break my teeth if it tried to bite Tama but it could hurt some important stuff in the process. Catherine and me aren’t even on good terms at the best of days, who the fuck knows how the wolf would deal with her. Besides even if it wasn’t for those two, I still wouldn’t. Not to that house.” He finished the last of the tea with another grimace. Then he glanced down at his clothes. “Man, I look like hell.”
“You’re worried you might hurt Leader and Shinpachi-kun,” said Katsura. It was as plain as the perm on his head. “But if the wolf can recognize Otose-done as someone not to harm, do you not think it would recognize those two as well? As… well, as your pups to be protected. Real male wolves are good fathers who shield their young.”
“You said it yourself, this damn virus isn’t a real wolf,” argued Gintoki. “I dunno if it would happen like that. I can’t take that risk.”
“Leader is remarkably strong, and she only seems to get stronger when she’s protecting someone weaker like Shinpachi-kun,” Katsura pointed out.
“But I’m stronger than my normal self when the virus takes over,” said Gintoki, and now his ears were human ears again, and he sounded almost exactly like usual. Katsura breathed out, a wave of relief passing through him. Even if a part of him did miss those adorable ears. “Or I get my limits removed or something,” Gintoki continued. “I might be too strong for her even then, especially if she gets taken by surprise. Stop it, Zura, you can’t bet on those kinds of odds.”
“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.”
“And they’d make way too much of a deal about it, too. Would run around like scared chickens looking for a cure that probably doesn’t even exist. Leave them alone.”
Katsura sighed. They’d had this conversation before. Gintoki was just so frustratingly stubborn. He did make decent arguments, Katsura had to admit, but he might just be underestimating the fortitude of his two young friends a little too much.
He stood up. “I shall have to make soup for myself since you ate up my portion of dinner, too. Go take a bath and borrown something decent to wear. But you can’t have my courtesan outfit.”
“As if I could fit into something like that, you skinny freak,” muttered Gintoki. But he would probably take Katsura out for dinner soon to make up for it, like he had before. Even if they might have to end up doing a dine-and-dash.
Katsura made the soup and ate it by himself while reading his newspaper from the grocery store. Meanwhile, Gintoki had his bath and got dressed, in the end simply borrowing Katsura’s greyish blue kimono, the one he wore less often than the dark-blue one.
“You can stay the night if you want,” Katsura suggested. It was a genuine gesture of hospitality but also a polite invitation for sex. There was just something particularly hot about Gintoki when he was like this, in the direct aftermath of one of his attacks. When he was at his most werewolfy, Katsura was mostly too worried to feel properly tempted, but in recovery… ah, well. He had this lingering sense of sensual feralness to him that was remarkably enticing.
Gintoki was quiet for a long moment, his face not giving anything away. “Nah,” he finally said, shrugging. “Feels like I’d better head back.”
That wasn’t too unexpected, and Katsura bit his lip, stopping himself from asking if Gintoki was sure. After all, it was likely the right thing to do, so Leader and Shinpachi-kun didn’t have to worry for much longer. “If you’re sure,” was all that he said. “Don’t stop in any pachinko place on the way home.”
“Can’t, I’m all out of money. See ya, Zura. Thanks.”
He waved without looking back and stepped away. His back looked as straight as usual, but something about his figure was less reassuring than normal. And more heart-twinging.
Gintoki was sexy this way, sure. He was the troubled furry werewolf with gleaming eyes. But he wasn’t that usual trashfire sun that Katsura would secretly draw warmth from, that well of contradictory strength to be leant on when needed. Katsura knew that for all that he genuinely worried about Gintoki for his own sake, and for the sake of the youngsters (who almost certainly suspected that something was going on, even if they had no idea what) -- for all that, he knew that he was also upset for completely selfish reasons.
He wanted to keep working to see the new dawn of Japan, he wanted his Sensei to feel proud of him, and for that he needed Gintoki to be Gintoki. So Katsura could remain strong.
Then he shook off the self-pity and self-disgust and that hollowness that came from not really being able to help. “Monday nights just make me feel way too melancholy,” he muttered to himself, then resolutely turned the TV on to get lost in a new historical drama featuring the sad abandoned wife of a cruel samurai.
He’d intended to clean the mud from the windowsill, floor and top of the bureau as soon as Gintoki was himself again, but then he forgot about it entirely as the rest of the evening wore on, and it lay there undisturbed until Elizabeth discovered the muddy patches the next day. Eyes narrowed, Elizabeth went for a mop and bucket, spending some time cleaning thoroughly while holding a signpost that said Hmm…. Katsura pretended not to see it, wiping away a few stray furry hairs from his sleeves surreptitiously.
Continued in Part Two (nsfw)