Chapter Text
After several minutes of calling for order, Katsura finally took attendance and sat down on the tatami floor, arms crossed and ready to start the meeting. “Status report, if you please.”
A Joui soldier, Endo, began laying out the details for their current mission to infiltrate a newly-built Amanto fast food corporate chain and disrupt any plans to steal profits from the neighbouring and independent fast food businesses. All men appeared to be listening unusually well this time, their eyes focused on the standing speaker. Meetings well-organized like this one made Katsura especially proud to be fighting alongside his comrades, but he was also relieved in that there was no discussion about the latest model of an airship with extra firepower or of a TV drama that he was weeks behind on. Often their weekly meetings dragged on because Katsura kept getting distracted with off-topic conversations, and by the end, he found himself involved in sudden shopping excursions that he had no memory of agreeing to for impractical products that he had no need or desire to own.
“...and according to my sources, they are allergic to bad singers.” Endo snorted. “Apparently, their five ears are so sensitive to pleasant melodies that anything off-tune or distorted generates mass amounts of ear wax and disrupts their health for at least a week.”
“Katsura-san should sing opera for them,” one of the men joked, followed by a burst of laughter from the rest.
Katsura shook his head. “No, I specialize in rap.”
“Uh, I wasn’t being serious—”
“Fortunately, I am acquainted with a vocalist of questionable skill,” Katsura continued, a pair of glasses flashing in his mind, “So we may be able to carry out an offensive with his voice recordings. I will procure one when I visit the Yorozuya later on today.”
“But Katsura-san—!”
Beside him, Elizabeth whipped out a sign: There’s no use in trying to change his mind.
“Next on the agenda is…” Katsura scanned the paper for item number four. “Media.”
A bespectacled solider, Yasuda, stood up and cleared his throat. “Tomorrow, we will be passing out leaflets in Ginza, and we need two more people to help. Come see me after the meeting if you want to sign up for that."
Katsura nodded. "Very good."
"Secondly, many of our web sites are taken down within the hour, but we have different domains and ISPs at our disposal. We’ve received a positive response to our anti-government stance from a variety of people, based on our demographics." Yasuda eyed Katsura over the top of his glasses. "There was a problem when one cowardly anonymous commenter claimed we were sell-outs and that the Kiheitai have the truest cause.”
Katsura frowned at this, disagreeing with Takasugi’s extreme tactics and overall viewpoint. They were more concerned about taking chaotic routes than relatively peaceful ones.
“We banned that IP address from accessing any of our forums, but not before pinpointing their approximate location in case we decide action is needed for their attempts to disparage us.”
“Thank you, but that will not be necessary,” Katsura said, “Now then, we must discuss the budget.”
Their treasurer, Mukai, slowly rose to his feet, opening up a binder. “Well, to be honest, it’s not looking good. We overspent last month because of that full-scale attack on the Shinsengumi headquarters not to mention Fujita’s birthday catering. Plus, we also had to pay for damaging the Yorozuya’s office, and that’s the third time we’ve done that this year.”
Katsura huffed, thinking that it wasn’t his fault that the Shinsengumi and the regular police force were constantly hunting him down and giving no thought to the explosions and damage they caused wherever they found him, sometimes hiding out at Gintoki's apartment, whether he was there or not. Okita Sougo and his bazooka were specially to blame.
Elizabeth’s sign read: So are you.
“To cover those expenses, we had to borrow from this month’s budget and now we’re under by…”
Katsura’s eyes widened at the high amount. “Is this true?”
“Unfortunately true, Katsura-san. I was up all night rechecking the figures,” Mukai answered, blinking bloodshot eyes, “We can make it if we borrow from next month, but in order to balance out at year-end, it means pulling out of our own pockets if donations and fundraising don’t meet our expectations.”
The men groaned and complained about how they could barely afford to have any semblance of a social life with what little money they had to begin with. Fighting against the current government was an important cause, but the bills didn’t pay themselves.
“Well, this presents an unexpected problem,” Katsura murmured, brow wrinkling deep in thought. They would proceed as planned with the upcoming operation and continue with their fundraising methods – usually food stands and rallies – but those required time and planning.
They needed something now, something fast.
His eyes fell on a member in the back of the room, nose buried in a comic book. Instead of berating the man for not paying attention, an idea formed in Katsura’s brain, and he smiled.
The solution was simple: he would publish a book on the Jouishishi’s journey to modern times. It was sure to be a bestseller. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
“Not to worry, men,” Katsura said, and the chatter around him drew to a stop. “I have thought of a way to supplement the budget.”
“You have?” nearly everyone and Elizabeth’s sign gasped.
“I am going to write a book about my experiences.”
“Ehhhh??"
“As a matter of fact, I should start right away.” Katsura climbed to his feet and dusted off his kimono, mind aflutter with ideas for chapter set-ups and how to best end the book when his life was still in progress. “Meeting adjourned.”
“But we haven’t talked about the Akatsuki faction yet!” protested Tsuchiya, who would've been next on the agenda, “They’re starting up again, and members have been sighted in Akihabara. Their leader is rumored to have broken out of prison last week.”
Katsura gasped. “Impossible! I thought Naruto-kun and Sasuke-kun defeated them?”
What about Kakashi, Shikamaru, and Chiyo, Elizabeth’s sign read.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Tsuchiya replied, “I’m talking about the extremist faction led by Tanaka Kouhei!”
Katsura scowled at the realization that he was being left behind again in current events and entertainment. Tanaka Kouhei was probably a new villain in Naruto’s path to becoming Hokage – or maybe he was in the sequel. Where did any of them find the time to consume so much manga when they had a government to dismantle? “I have not started Boruto-kun’s story yet, as I am not finished Naruto-kun’s, so I cannot discuss it with you. I am going now.” Ultimately, it didn’t matter, because he would soon provide adequate, educational literature for them in place of juvenile stories full of magical power-ups and giant snakes and silver-permed samurai.
“We’re not talking about Naruto!!”
That night, after purchasing supplies and eating dinner at Ikumatsu’s shop, Katsura sealed himself off in his apartment and prepared to write. He sent Elizabeth out on errands in order to have the place to himself and his thoughts. Writing a book seemed easy, especially since he had read a great deal in his youth, but he knew not to approach a new task with frivolity.
Katsura usually held off on reminiscing about his school days because of all the painful memories associated with the abrupt ending of his formal education. Dwelling on a tragic past with hardships only wasted time when he desired to look toward a hopeful future. Besides, he had already come to terms with what had happened, what was still happening, and the only way to deal with it all was to walk forward, even if he walked alone. There was no pointing in asking why when he had spent much of war and the following months afterward doing just that.
So, before starting his book, he needed to recall what Shouyou had specified about the written word. Katsura was confident in his ability to compose professional letters and ideologies. Calligraphy had also been simpler for him than it was for Gintoki and Takasugi—both of who had gotten into trouble once for inking each other’s faces and hair. In spite of his attitude to the past and relationship with Takasugi now, Katsura couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed at the memory of that day.
That gave him an idea for the first several chapters, putting memories of his youth into vivid detail on paper. He wrote and wrote until the early hours of the morning, creating enough material for what would become Heroes on the Run: Volume One.
By dawn, thoroughly satisfied with what he had written, Katsura took his finished manuscript to a Joui supporter, who owned a printing press factory, which was often utilized for mass production of Joui propaganda leaflets and posters when they required large supplies of material. Without bothering to edit or clarify the accuracy of certain details with his old friends, Katsura gave his final approval, and the book’s printing was set in motion.
On calm and early mornings aboard the Kiheitai flagship, which currently drifted on the seas along Chiba’s eastern coastline, Bansai preferred not to disturb Takasugi, who often went to the upper deck for his first smoke of the day on the bow. According to Takasugi himself, he craved the solitude and peace to be found in greeting the sun before he plunged back into the depths of his inner hell.
However, it was necessary to interrupt the poet today.
Outside on the deck, Bansai walked to where Takasugi stood, tendrils of smoke flying away on the invigorating – or sinus-clearing, as the deceased Nizou had once stated – sea breeze. Clutching a copy of a small book, one that could trigger a disaster, Bansai stopped just a few feet away from Takasugi and addressed him, explaining that he had gotten his hands on an autobiography by Katsura Kotarou.
“What makes you think I would be interested in some inane thing written by that egghead?” Takasugi exhaled smoke. “He can do what he wants. I do not care either way.”
“It is quite interesting, but potentially damaging to your reputation, I daresay,” Bansai replied, leafing through a few of the pages. “You may want to peruse its contents before we dismiss it entirely. Take this chapter, for instance…”
After a long minute, Takasugi held out his hand and Bansai gave him the book. Bansai waited patiently, enjoying the sound of the waves lapping at the vessel’s side and the distant singing of sea birds while Takasugi read the chapter in question. Then, he closed the book and handed it back to Bansai, whose fingertips barely touched the spine before Takasugi drew his sword and slashed the book in half with one swift strike. The loose pages fluttered to the deck with Bansai still holding the spine, blinking in slight surprise behind his sunglasses, even though he had been expecting this sort of reaction.
“Damn him,” Takasugi hissed, a dark shadow around his lone right eye and an equally dark aura radiating around him like a storm cloud. “Damn that Zura…”
“Looking at the positive side of things, it does make you more relatable to the crew, I daresay,” Bansai remarked, finding that the revelation did not change his opinion of Takasugi whatsoever. In fact, if Bansai delved deeper into his own childhood memories, he could recall his own embarrassing incidents, too.
“Turn the ship around,” Takasugi ordered sharply, green eye ablaze with thoughts of vengeance. “We’re going back to Edo immediately.”