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Tsukuyo knelt in her room, slowly taking the hairpins out. It had been a long night, a rough night… it wouldn’t be long until the sun would start to rise and peak into Yoshiwara who awaited the emerging light with her eyes opened wide every day. Tsukuyo would close her eyes soon though, she was tired. With her hair freed of its usual style, she moved on to her kimono. It was a ritual she engaged in every morning before she went to bed. It helped her calm down and drop the events of the night so that she could sleep. She did it in front of a mirror where she could watch her body, watch her scarred face, to remind herself that she was not a woman.
There was a soft knock on her balcony door… that usually didn’t happen. The Hyakka knew not to disturb her after she retired for the night. But maybe something had happened? Maybe it was an emergency. “Come in!”
The door was pushed open and someone she hadn’t expected at all stumbled in. “Gintoki!” The man was leaning heavily against the open door, hardly able to keep himself upright. He breathed heavily and the smell of cheap booze he exuded was so strong that it made Tsukuyo dizzy. Her state of undress became pressingly obvious to her… but Gintoki wasn’t even looking. He stared at the floor and breathed deeply. So, she turned back to the mirror, hoped that her blush wasn’t visible in the dim light and continued her ritual as if nothing had happened. There was Gintoki in her doorframe. It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before. Sure, usually he wasn’t as drunk and mostly in the company of his kids, but it wasn’t something particularly special. Or exciting. At least that was what she tried to tell herself. “Did ya win pachinko or sum’n?” she asked.
“No?” Gintoki looked up, finally. She could see it in the mirror. “Why?” His tongue was heavy his eyes were drooped. Dead fish eyes.
“Because otherwise I doubt ya will be able to pay for my services.” Her voice was even and didn’t account for the pounding of her heart. What did Gintoki want? He would see her as a prostitute, surely. She wasn’t one, not really. Of course, she had been trained to be one, but Gintoki knew that she had given up on being a woman long ago. And yet, it was him who still reminded her of what she had once been. What might have become of her if it hadn’t been for Jiraia. Gintoki knew. He had been there. So, what did he see in her? Gintoki hadn’t moved. He was still leaning in the door frame and staring at her with his dead fish eyes. “Why did ya come here, then?” No one could ever guess the thoughts of Sakata Gintoki, least of all people her.
After a long moment of what was probably consideration – Tsukuyo wasn’t sure how much of this perm head was actually able to think, especially in this state – Gintoki moved. He stumbled into the room, eased himself down on her futon and closed his eyes. A moment later, he started to snore. Tsukuyo sighed. She felt strangely relieved but mostly irritated. Feeling the twitch underneath her eye and in her eyebrow, she got up and closed the door. Then, she finally changed into her sleeping yukata. In the bathroom. Who knew what this intoxicated man would be up to next…
When she came back into the room, Gintoki was still fast asleep and snoring loudly. Tsukuyo took in his strong, lean muscular form. There was no stronger samurai in the whole of Edo than Sakata Gintoki. No man more respected in Kabukicho – even though no one would admit it if asked. There was no one more pathetic than the person on her futon cradling her pillow and drooling all over it. And he was still wearing his shoes.
After a short moment of consideration, she crouched down behind him and pulled on one of his big, black boots. It took a bit of strength, then it slid off easily and Tsukuyo was assaulted with a very different kind of aroma. She supressed a cough, wiped the tear from the side of her eye and breathed through her mouth. It was bad enough to nearly taste it in the air. Quickly, she removed the second boot and put them on the balcony so that they could air out. That didn’t solve the problem though. What kind of madman wore boots like this without socks?!? This called for a different level of counteraction.
Warm water and strongly scented soap. Tsukuyo couldn’t believe she was actually doing it. She, the leader of the Hyakka, a ninja infamous and feared in the whole of Yoshiwara, was washing the stinky feet of a stray drunk who had fallen asleep on her bed. If anyone ever found out about this… but it was purely self-preservation, she told herself. She didn’t want to die in her sleep because of gas poisoning. And she needed to sleep. As much as her heart was pounding, her cheeks were blushing - and she was sweating, wasn’t she? - she was tired. So, she washed Gintoki’s feet and aired out the room until she could finally breathe again.
Back to problem number one: there was still a drunk man sleeping on her futon. He was laying on his side, his arms slung around her pillow… there was still space… No. She might not have been much of a woman, but she did have dignity. Slowly, she untangled the blanket on top of which Gintoki had fallen asleep… he didn’t wake. Just how much booze had this man had? He mumbled something and turned around, freeing the rest of the blanket. Tsukuyo softly draped it over him, covering the white kimono with a floral pattern. Then she opened her wardrobe and got out her spare futon and a second blanket. With another sigh, this one soft and calm, she unrolled it leaving not as much space to the sleeping Gintoki as she could have.
If she couldn’t sleep because of his loud snoring, there would still be time to beat him up in the morning. She already had her kunai ready and within reach.